"Hiding in plain sight is the move, trust me"
The cold morning air smacked Katya in the face as they walked out of the math building to the now abandoned football field. It had been her idea to relocate (something about relapsing in the college bathrooms depressed her) but now she wasn't so sure she had made the right call.
Her stomach turned nauseatingly. It’s not that she didn't want to do drugs (god did she want to), it was more the kind of exhilaration you feel before doing something you shouldn’t. Like a little kid opening their christmas presents early, but better. For as long as she could remember her life had felt monotone. Kind of empty and just shit. Drugs had been her reprieve from the never-ending heart-wrenching abyss of real life since she was 14, granted it had started out as skipping home room to smoke a joint with the kids in the grade above her and gradually progressed to the life ruining dependency as shown today, all thanks to her asshole mother up and leaving when she was 16. When she was high she could forget about the fucked up shit going on in her life and focus on the pure sense of euphoria, free of responsibility. She loved it, craved it. The escape was worth the aftermath.
She watched as Naomi quickly snorted up a mysterious blue powder from her keys, pressing her finger against her other nostril and then wiping away the excess with the back of her hand. The familiarity of the action struck Katya and excitement crept up deep in the back of her being. God she had missed this.
‘What is it?’ she asked, she had been so caught up in the promise of an escape from her anxieties that she hadn't had time to ask what they were actually taking.
‘MDMA. You tried it before?’
Katya chuckled. If only she knew.
‘Once or twice,’ she lied.
Naomi offered her the baggie and her keys to Katya which she accepted without hesitation.
‘God I wish I had more self control.’
‘Me too Zamolochikova,’ Trixie’s voice rang out like a bell in the chaos of her mind.
‘Jesus Mattel. I don’t think I can cope with you as my internal monologue.’
‘Tough shit. You know I wouldn’t approve that’s why I’m in your head.’
‘You don’t dictate my life. You’ve got an Australian bimbo for that, remember?’
‘God you’re insufferable. Maybe I don’t want to dictate her life. Maybe I want to dictate yours.’
‘I must be going insane.’
‘You can’t relapse Katya. You just can’t. You know how much it hurts.’
‘Fuck off. It’s not even you speaking and I don’t need the third degree. Just lea-’
Naomi’s gentle nudge interrupted Katya’s apparent descent into insanity.
‘Hey, do you want it or not?’
Katya looked at her. The blue of her dress complimented her eyes. She looked down at the drugs in her hand. If Miss Del Rio knew what she was doing she would have a few choice words that’s for sure. And what would Max and Adore say? A familiar knot of anxiety tugged at her heart. She loved them both. Could she put them through it again?
One key of this and the anxiety would be gone, replaced by the carefree Katya she missed. She took a breath and nodded. She loved it. Craved it.
‘Absolutely.’
***
Max’s Pov -
‘How many times have you called her?’ Max knitted her hands together in front of her on the table. ‘This place is repulsive Adore, why is everything sticky?’
‘Don’t speak ill of Five Guys whore. Consider this your first warning… Oh and, like 12?’ Adore muttered to herself, counting on her hands.
‘That's...weird. She always calls back.’
Adore shrugged nonchalantly as if it was no big deal, although her wide eyes betrayed a subtle panic. As much as she tried to hide it, Max could always see through her carefully crafted cool girl façade, Adore was just as worried as she was.
Max thought back to the night before. Could Katya be avoiding them? Was it her fault? She had finally figured out Max’s crush last night and obviously didn’t reciprocate. When Katya walked away from her, making up some shitty excuse about needing to use the bathroom before practically bolting, her and Adore had to try backpedaling to avoid this becoming a topic of gossip within the group. Katya always ran away from stressful confrontation, she was infamous for it. But this time she was so harsh it made her want to laugh. It confirmed everything she already knew in the most brutal way imaginable, and yet still she continued to obsessively think about the blonde’s flirtatious teasing last night, the way her eyes had widened as if she had finally noticed Max blushing as her finger touched to her lips.
‘God. I’m pathetic.’
Her unrequited love for Katya had stretched over almost the entire span of their friendship, stubbornly refusing to fade despite the complete lack of interest from Katya. Her most recent infatuation with real-life-barbie Trixie had been a series of one twist of the dagger already plunged into her heart after the other. The never ending, Trixie this, Trixie that actually made her heart ache. And maybe if Trixie was a bitch it would be easier, but unfortunately for Max, she was impossible to hate. If only she was the object of Katya’s affection, it would make their friendship a lot easier, especially as it was now effectively ruined and beyond repair. Even if the embarrassment of a crush unrequited didn’t do it, the awkward tension certainly would. How could she possibly be expected to function without Katya in her life? God everything was just going to absolute shi-
The loud brassy introduction to the Soviet Anthem interrupted her self-wallowing session.
‘Shit it’s her!!’ Max almost dropped Adore’s phone in her hurry to snatch it up off the table. ‘Hello??’
‘Oh. Hi.. is Adore there?’
‘Uh yeah but…’
‘Can I talk to her?’
‘What’s going on, why haven't you been returning our calls?!’
‘I can’t even think right now, can you just pass me on or stop calling me? I’m fine.’
Max could hear the faint giggle of someone else down the phone. Feeling the spike of emotion build up in her throat she thrust the phone towards Adore. ‘Whatever,’ she muttered, already getting up out of the filthy booth on the way to the even filthier bathroom. Maybe she would be fine without Katya after all.
***
Trixie’s POV-
Trixie’s head span. Her doctors could pump her system full of all kinds of painkillers, but nothing could stop the headache she got talking to her Mother. Her nasally voice, dripping with her thick milwaukee accent practically forced its way down the phone into her eardrums.
‘-and that’s why you should always be so careful in bars on your own sweetheart! You need a nice strong boyfriend to look after you, that’s what I think!’
‘Mom I’m fine on my own. I was with friends, I wouldn’t even be here if my roommate hadn't saved me.’
‘But it never would’ve happened if you had an intimidating man by your side!’
Trixie smiled. She was pretty sure Katya could intimidate people just as well as any man. Plus the way she’d heard the story, that creep had been pretty rattled by Katya’s intervention. She cringed. Did she just imply that Katya was her ‘man’? God she really was in over her head.
‘Okay Mom, I’ll get right on that,’ she teased, although her tone probably went straight over her Mother’s head.
‘Alright baby, I love you!’
‘Love you Mom, see you soon.’ She ended the call and chucked her phone down onto the duvet.
She had been pacing. Huh. This always happened once a month when her mom called. She would walk up and down biting her nails wherever she was, Kim called it the 'country child anxiety', (much alike to the asian child anxiety in terms of severity). Her relationship with her Mom had never been perfect but Trixie had really been feeling the strain of being closeted lately. Whatever she changed the subject to, her mom would figure out a way to bring it back to boys and ‘when are you going to get a boyfriend sweetie?’. As if her mother was the posterchild for successful heterosexual relationships anyway. She looked down at her nails to survey the damage done due to her nervous habits; a bit of chipped nail polish and a few nails shorter than the others but she’d done worse.
Trixie picked up her guitar, absently strumming as she racked her brain for a new chord progression. After her last forgotten assignment for music class (which she rushed but still crushed it in her opinion) she had decided to implement a new system - actually doing her work when it was set. So far it was saving her a lot of stress. This assignment however, had her pulling her hair out. At the end of every year the music department put on a showcase for the entire college, the music students had to come up with an original song to perform which counted for 25% of their final grade…and Trixie was pretty sure she would be missing 25% of her final grade at this rate. She had nothing upbeat to write about, and the idea of pouring her current traumas into a song that half the college population would hear didn't sound appealing.
"Ugh, fuck this" she mumbled, throwing the guitar down gently beside her. She’d do it later.
Her stomach rumbled and she became aware of a ravenous hunger building up inside of her, she hadn't eaten anything but hospital food in days and god knows that stuff hardly counted as food.
‘Time to attempt to cook I guess.’
Swinging her bedroom door open Trixie almost fell over Katya, who was curled up into a tiny ball, leaning up against her own bedroom door. Her usually flawless blonde bob was a mess of knots and tangles, her knuckles bone white as she gripped her knees. When did she even get home?
‘Um hey? What are you doing…?’
Katya looked up, eyes wide, puffy and bloodshot, eyeliner and mascara a mess of black on her cheeks and lipstick a smear of what used to be crimson red, now faint and messy. Her lip trembled as she caught Trixie’s eye and tears welled up. The emotion on her face was devastating, she looked so lost.
Trixie practically fell to her knees overwhelmed with the urge, no, the need, to comfort her roommate. As she scooped Katya’s body up into her arms, she resisted the instinct to gently kiss her face, her head, her shoulders. She had never felt so delicate to Trixie who was used to the punk, hard as nails Katya. She just wanted to protect her, to hold her forever on their dormitory floor. But it wasn't realistic.
‘What happened?’ she whispered with some trepidation, almost afraid to break the silence.
Katya shook her head. ‘I can’t say' she choked in frustration.
Trixie nodded and helped her to her feet. ‘Come with me.’
They traipsed into their communal living area where Trixie sat Katya down on the well-loved couch, wrapped her up in a bright pink knitted blanket that smelled like home and made hot chocolate with toasted marshmallows and whipped cream. It was the only thing she could think to do, the only thing she wanted to do. The whole time Katya shook silently, holding back sobs and sniffling quietly. Trixie thought back to the bar and Katya's adorable insistence on taking care of her; it felt right that it was now her turn to do the same. Their knees brushed as she sat down next to her and turned to look at the pretty blonde, placing a comforting hand on Katya’s own.
‘Whenever you’re ready.’