───
The only choice you gave to me
is one I took reluctantly
───
A/N (April 2020)
i'm thinking about doing a little Q&A since we're all vibin together in quarantine. you can ask some questions here or dm me! or not. i'm just lonely and bored and need human contact x
Dominic Carter, 25 years old
He taps his finger absently against the polished surface of his desk, staring intently at the screen in front of him as his fingers fly across the keys like spiders, the frantic keyboard clicking driving Caspar to divert his focus out the window. Caspar, whose nervous energy Dominic can sense from across the desk, even as he focuses his attention on the code in front of him. The only light filtering into the entire office is muted by the thin layer of ice which sheets the window at the sixty-fourth floor.
He runs his hands through the length of his dark hair, pulling tensely at the ends before his hand returns to the desk, typing quickly again until he is pushing aside the desktop, leaning over to navigate through his work from Caspar's Macbook.
"It looks fine," he says finally, his voice soft in the sense that he never raises it. Never needs to.
Caspar looks down at the Macbook, then back up at the dark-haired man in front of him.
"Are you serious?"
Dominic nods, turning back toward the desktop to his right, Caspar's left, his eyes scanning intently the length of the screen. "The database itself shouldn't crash again. But you need to create a folder on the web server and develop the code there, instead of on your desktop."
"And how do you suggest I do that."
"What's wrong with the software you're using now?"
Caspar raises his brows incredulously.
"Is it slow?" Dominic asks.
"It's like... sedated."
He watches as Dominic's eyes examine the activity on Caspar's work database through his own screen. He seems unaffected by the mockery in his tone, an attribute that Caspar always admired but would never speak aloud, Dominic's ability to keep his composure. Not many businessmen on Wall Street had that sort of temperament.
"Why don't you just write a new one, then. I can't keep overriding the code on this server, your Mac will implode."
"I can get a new computer, I can't code a new database."
At this, Dominic finally glances up at Caspar from beneath his unruly dark hair.
"The owner of a data management firm can't code a software to manage his own data?"
Caspar grabs an invisible arrow from his chest and pretends to stick it into Dominic's desk. He leans back in his chair.
"The system's too dated."
"So you've monetized a software that's too slow for you to use."
"Yes, and sold it for thirty million. What have you done today?"
Dominic's eyes burn holes into his, the desktop screen goes to sleep from inactivity as he watches him.
"I bought an airline."
"Yeah? What does Ronan think of that."
"Ronan isn't the business head of this company," Dominic bites back, his voice maintaining the same volume. "You should be more concerned of what Ronan thinks of me coding for you when I have a meeting with Scott Tiel at eleven."
"Why do you have a meeting with Scott Tiel at eleven."
"Because we need a new web developer."
"I'm a web developer."
"You're a software developer."
Caspar lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I dabble."
Dominic shakes his head. "I'll get back to you," he says with finality, closing his Macbook screen and grabbing his briefcase and keys.
Caspar follows him through the office building toward the private elevator. The short chime sounds and the doors ease open, prompting the two men out from the cubicle and into the main lobby. Dominic nods at a few colleagues as he passes through the ground floor exit toward the private parking garage, ignoring the stares they accumulate together. Caspar follows closely behind.
When they reach his car, Caspar is back to his normal, smirking self, staring intently at Dominic the way he has since they were sixteen. As if he could see all the way through his head. And maybe he could. He was, after all, his only friend.
"Your problem, Dominic," says Caspar, "is that you set your things aside and expect them still to be there once you come back."
Dominic's shoulders clench almost undetectably before he is shaking his head, setting his briefcase down in the passenger seat of the Audi without so much as a sidelong glance.
"And your problem, Caspar, is that you went to college to learn code, and you left a better coke dealer than software engineer."
"That's rich, coming from you."
A piercing glare, the kind that could silence a boardroom.
"Yeah, well some of us weren't privileged enough to have a choice."
And Caspar is content to drop it for once. He knew better than anyone the stress he was under. It wasn't just the new job, it was the loose ends from the old one too. The ones that crept up to him from behind and from under until he was drowning in them. It was investments that would never turn over and a reputation that he could never entirely clean up. It was payments on seven different homes, and doubling security on three of them. It was packing, always, whenever he left his apartment, and never keeping the same mobile number for longer than three months.
It was a certain dark-haired girl who happened to be turning eighteen today.
"You know it's Aurora's birthday," Caspar breaks the silence.
Dominic averts his eyes, nodding his head softly. "You seriously want to be the information head of this company?"
"You're diverting."
"Answer the question."
Caspar sighs, glancing thoughtfully at the framework of Dominic's Audi.
"Possibly."
"Then I need you to get me some information."
Caspar turns to face him, his green eyes lighting up almost undetectably.
"What do you know about Walter Moretti?"
His jaws tenses.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"Why? Does it make you nervous?"
He shakes his head, he can't think when Dominic looks at him that way. "You think I'm affiliated somehow?"
"I didn't say that. Why are you nervous?"
"I'm not, I'm just thrown off."
"Why."
"It's just one minute it's coke, and the next you're asking me what I know about the inner workings of the mafia-"
"So you know that Walter Moretti was in the mafia."
His brows knit together as he tries not to. "Am I allowed to answer that?"
"Are you?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know whether you have ties to cosa nostra?"
"No, I don't know whether I'm allowed to answer your question."
Walter Moretti, in the years before his death, was one of Wall Street's most prominent businessmen, a private banking group started in his hometown in Italy which in ten years expanded globally. And though it was never officially confirmed throughout his lifetime, he was widely considered an asset to the Italian mafia. Because of his ties to cosa nostra, the details of his will forced his company to stagnate, should his child be too young to take up the business following his death.
But Walter Moretti died young. He was killed in a jet crash before having children.
Dominic stares intently at him from where he leans against his car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his Armani slacks. "Of course I know it's her birthday today."
Caspar's eyes roam nervously the length of the private parking garage while he rubs the back of his neck. "We shouldn't be talking about this."
"About Aurora's birthday?"
"No, about Moretti."
"My sources tell me that his account might be live again," Dominic continues, ignoring him entirely, but opting not to speak the name aloud again, "Or that the company is taking steps to unfreeze it." He slides into the drivers seat of his car, keying the ignition before turning to face Caspar again, speaking more quietly so that he has to struggle to hear him over the engine.
"Find out whether it's the truth, who the inheritor is, and get me a contact, and I'll make sure Scott Tiel's merger falls through and that your name is next on the list," he leans back in the leather seat. "Ronan will want to secure a share in Moretti's account before the assets are diverted."
"And you want to be the one to secure it?"
"Do you want the job," Dominic cuts him off, "or not?"
A pause. Caspar smiles cheekily before stepping back. He nods, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
"Anything for you, love," he says, offering a cheeky smile. His brows raise incredulously. "And if you're interested, I know where Aurora's friends are celebrating her birthday tonight."
His shoulders tense at the mention of her name, at the way his control can so quickly slip from between his hands at the thought of the girl.
"Where?"
Caspar smirks, sliding his phone from the confines of his back pocket and typing out a text. And it infuriates him, the way Caspar can so easily divert his attention while discussing the one thing that matters most to him, and that no matter how hard he tries to keep his shoulders level and his tone even, Caspar can tell just how much just her name affects him.
"The flat at Avalon Exeter," he responds finally, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "The one with the view of the observatory. I was thinking about stopping by-"
"Your flat?"
Caspar nods, that same shit-eating grin on his lips.
"I gave Olivia the key yesterday."
"Why the fuck would you do that?"
He shrugs, turning on his heel back toward his own car further down the lot. He turns over his shoulder.
"She asked me nicely."
Aurora Davis, 18 years old
Aurora stares tiredly out the third floor window of her dorm. She watches as delicate flakes of ice cling to the glass, reflecting the early morning sunrise off of their surface. Hardly any students walk past this early, but the ones that do tread carefully, their conversations dulled by the falling snow as they pace quickly across the frozen lawn. The entire school seems to ride out the lull of January with inactivity, as if everything seeks to establish a certain grounding as the new year settles in along with the winter quarter.
The air is so cold that, when she exhales, her breath fogs up nearly the whole side of the window. She tightens her grip around the blankets, turning over onto her other side to rest her eyes, reveling just a few moments longer in the peace of the winter morning and the warmth of the quilt Miss Amy made her which is so much softer than the one that the school provided them with.
She breathes it in, these few minutes of peace before the door is creaking open, the light from the hallway filtering in through the thin opening.
"Aurora?" Olivia knocks softly on the door, stepping inside quietly when she doesn't answer. She steps closer, her bare feet making almost no sound at all against the wooden floor as she paces slowly toward Aurora's bed.
"I know you're awake," she says, reaching out and tickling her sides from over the blanket.
Aurora's eyes open suddenly as she squirms uncontrollably
"Come on, Rory, it's your birthday!"
"It's Monday," Aurora hums in protest. Olivia slides into her bed, tugging the covers from her hold before slipping under the covers.
"But the vibes, Aurora!" Olivia says, pointing out the window beside her bed where the white flakes pour from the sky. "It's snowing and so it looks kinda like Hogwarts. You can just pretend we're gonna learn about spells and... play quidditch or some shit."
Aurora doesn't answer, just laughing and shaking her head. Olivia watches her with a sneaky smile before speaking again. "You're about to be so spoiled today."
"What do you mean," Aurora asks, sitting up with her blanket tucked tightly around her shoulders and neck as she stares out the window at the campus grounds and the wooded area that encircles it. Olivia follows suit.
"You'll see," she smiles mischievously, pulling her up and out of bed with her just in time for a set of feet pounding down the hallway, the door to her room to practically flying off from its hinges.
"Birthday!" the words tumbles from Junie's mouth excitedly, a blur of pajamas and bright blonde hair flying across the room as she grabs Aurora by the waist, sending them both tumbling back into her bed.
"Birthday! Birthday! Birthday!"
Junie leans back, staring down at Aurora from underneath her as she smiles excitedly.
"Happy birthday!"
"Thanks!" Aurora says back, her eyes wide at Junie's proximity to her face.
Olivia grabs her by the forearm and tugs her away from her bed, pushing her toward their shared bathroom by her back.
"You have to get ready so we can have pancakes!"
"But what about-"
"Right now! Go, go, go."
Aurora turns around, giggling as Junie shoves the pieces of her uniform into her arms, Olivia grabbing her shoes and stockings and throwing them down on the tile.
"Ten minutes!" Junie shouts before Olivia all but slams the bathroom door behind her. She can hear their laughter through the door as the two girls return to their own rooms to get dressed for class.
A chill tickles her spine as her bare feet pace across the cold tile, turning the shower dial all the way to hot and waiting for it to warm up. When she is done showering, she dries off with one of the towels in the cabinet before pulling on her uniform: stockings, skirt, sweater, before brushing her teeth and then hair, which is still slightly cool to the touch even after blowing it dry. After pinning back a lock of the long, wavy strands, she shuts off the light, walking back to her dresser and reaching for the locket which lies on top. Clipping it in place around her neck, the pendant falls to rest in the center of her chest. The weight of his locket against her heart is comforting in a way in which his absence isn't.
She turns it over in her hand, rubbing her thumb mindlessly against the surface.
"Aurora, c'mon!" she hears Junie call from the stairway down the second floor hallway.
"Coming," she responds, likely too soft for them to hear. She grabs her backpack from beside the door and shoving her pencil case inside before running down the hallway.
The three girls run through the residence halls, the early morning sun casting moving shadows against the walls as the windows pass them in a blur toward the dining commons at Concord Prep, which cover almost the entire second floor of the east wing. Long, hardwood tables span the entire length of the polished floor, all the way to the kitchen at the other end, which is partially visible through the window where the kitchen staff serves lunch. The large room is enveloped in soft lighting from where the early morning sunrise leaks through the stained windows near the skylight and from the light fixtures which hang from the apex of ceiling, the ones which Aurora always thought looked like falling stars.
The three girls, from across the crowded dining hall, can make out the frantic waving of Christian from where he stands on top of their usual table in the far right corner of the room.
"There they are!" Olivia exclaims in excitement, gripping Aurora's wrist tightly in her own and dragging her through the rows of tables, Junie following close behind.
Soon as the three of them arrive, Christian is hopping up off of the bench and down to the ground to engulf Aurora into a tight hug, the sleeves of his uniform sweater warm against her neck. He swings her back and forth in excitement before squeezing her so tightly between her arms she can hardly breathe.
"Happy birthday!"
"Thank you," she squeaks out, and Christian sets her back down to her feet, smiling sheepishly before clearing to the other side of the table. Everett scoots further to his right to make space for Aurora to sit beside him, and Olivia beside her, while Junie and Christian sit with Leo on the other side.
The six of them had all known each other for varying amounts of time, Everett having moved there just three years ago from Maryland with his mother when his father became state senator in New York. Olivia, whose mother was one of the most successful neurosurgeons on the east coast, Aurora had known since they boarded together in primary school at Concord Prep. And Leo she had known for the shortest amount of time, just a year. He lived with his uncle, who he said owned a successful airline, but they all were thoroughly convinced he was actually a mob boss.
And Christian and Junie she had met at the children's home all those years ago. They attended Concord Prep thanks to a mysterious sum of money they received each month for school, which Miss Amy insisted was from the state.
Everett drapes his arm across Aurora's shoulders once she sits down, squeezing her shoulders affectionately.
"Happy birthday," he says, a boyish smile splitting his cheeks and showcasing the dimple which adorns the left one. She smiles down at the table, while Christian's eyes burn holes into his arm.
Christian, who slides a plate of pancakes across the table and toward Aurora, with a generous helping of whipped cream at the top and raspberries all around the perimeter. Her eyes light up excitedly and she bounces up and down in her seat while the rest of them help themselves to the large plate of pancakes between them.
Once they've all been served, Olivia glances carefully around the general area for any figure of authority before whipping out a packet of candles from her backpack and pulling one out from inside and sticking it atop Aurora's stack of pancakes. She sits back, nudging Leo repeatedly with her elbow until he looks around them, pulling a small lighter from his pocket and lighting the candle, pocketing it again just as quickly.
The group all leans closer in an attempt to hide the flickering of the candle which is most certainly a conduct violation.
"One, two, three," Junie whispers loudly, and the group breaks out into a whispered rendition of the happy birthday song, Aurora covering her mouth to stifle her laughter when they all start swaying in unison.
She blows out the candle at the end, smiling happily when they all start cheering and clapping, momentarily drawing the attention of a few students around them before they all continue about their business. The next moment, they are all digging into their breakfast, Aurora drizzling the syrup all over her pancakes until the golden liquid is oozing down the sides and onto the raspberries.
When they've all eaten enough of the sugary goodness to take a breath, Everett reaches into his backpack at Olivia's cue, holding out a small, rectangular shaped box wrapped in silver paper, tied off with a thin red ribbon.
Her eyes snap to the box where he sets it in front of her, and then back to him.
"It's from all of us."
"It was my idea though," Olivia insists.
"Like you'd allow anyone else a say."
Aurora lifts her hands gently, effectively silencing them all as she hesitantly takes the gift between her fingers.
"You didn't have to do that," her voice rings out between them. "I like it when we all are together, that's all I want."
Junie shakes her head. "It's your birthday, Rora."
"Yeah, you'll never have another eighteenth birthday," Christian reasons.
She nods, pulling the red ribbon loose nervously and lifting the lid while the rest of them wait in anticipation.
In the center of the box lies a dainty gold chain, one which she lifts into her hands, letting it dangle from her fingers to see six tiny, gold-plated stars wire wrapped onto the delicate bracelet.
Her soft brown eyes focus intently on the glimmering stars, before she smiles.
"My favorite constellation."
Everett nods affirmatively. "Pleiades. Has six major stars-"
"One for you, me, June, Christian, Ev and Leo," Olivia explains.
The entire table all starts speaking at the same time, asking to see it on, or for her to hold it up. Aurora holds the thin golden chain in the center of her hand before Leo is reaching out from across the table.
"Which wrist," he asks quietly as he focuses on her hands.
She raises her left hand. He nods, grabbing her wrist gently in his own hand, resting it against the table while he fiddles with the small clasp until it clips into place and rests against her tan skin. She glances up to him before moving her hand left and right, admiring the way the stars move and swivel to catch the light before smiling up at Leo.
He almost smiles.
"It's so beautiful," she says, looking up at all of them in turn. "Thank you, I love it."
They all nod, Junie shifting back and forth in her seat excitedly before glancing knowingly at Christian. Olivia types something into her phone while Everett watches her intently, and immediately she can tell that they all know something she doesn't.
"Hey Aurora," Olivia smiles excitedly, turning off her phone and setting it face down beside her. "Do you have any homework tonight?"
Aurora glances thoughtfully at the table in front of her, fiddling mindlessly with the bracelet on her left wrist as she considers this.
"A revision."
"On what?"
Aurora makes a face. "The Alchemist."
Olivia mirrors her disdain. "Have you started it?"
"The essay?" she asks, "Or the book."
"Either."
Aurora smiles before giggling. "Neither."
"You're kidding."
"I'll get it done," she waves her off, her bracelet catching the light from the morning sun.
"Well, make sure it's done before nine tonight," Olivia says, before smiling mischievously. "And Everett can help you with the essay after practice, right Everett?"
He nods, nudging Aurora's shoulder affectionately as she turns to face him.
"Right."
⋯ ⋯ ⋯
It is a little past one in the afternoon when Aurora is pacing up the spiral stairway, the one Caspar shared with her all those years ago. She pushes open the heavy wooden door when reaches the top, pacing quickly toward Mr. Conners' room among the dozens of other students who all rush to class in the humanities wing.
When she pushes open the door to the art classroom, she peaks in from behind it. Despite it being open, the classroom is empty when looks inside.
"Back here, Aurora," Mr. Conners calls from the back room, the one with all the easels and work benches.
Aurora didn't technically have an art class with Mr. Conners this year, but she was lucky enough that her tutorial period coincided with his free period, which meant she could spend the time working on her portfolio submissions for the different schools she had applied to.
She paces across the classroom toward the open door by his desk, stepping inside and looking up at him where he reaches up to the top shelf for a box of pressed watercolors. She drops her portfolio folder by the door, rushing over to him and helping him set the box carefully to the ground so the paint doesn't go shattering everywhere. He smiles appreciatively, and she is so focused on setting the material down without breaking them that she doesn't notice the small boy beside her until he is tugging on the end of her skirt.
"Hi Gabriel," she says, leaning down to lift the boy into her arms. She smiles, giggling softly as he tilts his head back while bounces him around in her arms.
"I'm stealing your son," she tells Mr. Conners over her shoulder, carrying him with her as she crosses the room toward her covered canvas which lies atop the easel in the back left corner. She sets the young boy down so she can remove her backpack, opening the drawer beneath her station for the supplies she was using last.
"Actually, would you mind watching him for a bit, Aurora?" Mr. Conners asks from the doorway. "I have to run over to the humanities office to make a few copies."
She nods, smiling assuringly. "Not at all."
He smiles gratefully, closing the door behind him as he paces toward the hallway.
"Would you like to help me mix paint, Gabriel?" she asks, and he nods excitedly, making grabby hands at the paint brush which she holds in her other hand. She hands it to him, squeezing out a small amount of the brown and white onto a small metal palette for him to mix together.
Rather than run the paintbrush carelessly around the surface, Gabriel mixes the two together with intense focus, a gentle precision not typical for a boy as young as him.
She runs a gentle hand through the disheveled strands of his soft hair while pinning down the canvas to the easel. Gabriel shuts his eyes. His mother used to do this.
"My little Picasso... has your Daddy taught you about him yet?"
Gabriel nods, his soft hair falling in front of his eyes. It is too light to be blonde, white enough to be the absence of color itself. The soft strands soak up the light which pours in from the circular window above them.
Like an angel, Aurora thinks, the way he hardly speaks but just radiates light.
When he is done with this he hands her the palette with the tan color, before stepping in front of her to watch her prep her work in progress, reaching up to fiddle with the bracelet on her left wrist.
"One, two, three, four, five, six," he mumbles softly to himself, counting each golden star with his little fingers. He turns to face her, to make sure she'd heard him count that far.
"That's right," she says, patting the side of his head affectionately with the same hand.
"Why do you have a star bracelet today?"
Her eyes remain focused on the easel in front of her while she answers his question. "It was a birthday present, from my friends."
"It's your birthday?" he asks.
She nods lightly, pressing down one of the pins into the wood.
"Happy birthday, Aurora," he pronounces her name carefully, the two r's in succession always giving him trouble.
"Thank you, Gabriel."
He nods, turning back to watch her pin the canvas to the easel. When he tires of this, he turns to face her between her arms, reaching up to play mindlessly with her heart-shaped locket, pulling the clasp open and shut, until suddenly, he pauses his actions, inspecting the open pendant in his palm.
"Aurora?"
Her eyes don't leave the canvas. "Hmm?"
He lifts the locket directly in front of her face. "Is this your prince?"
Her eyes widen in surprise, red tinting her cheeks. After a moment's pause, she gently grasps the pendant between her fingers, rubbing her thumb softly over the picture of her and Dominic. He has just graduated high school; he is lifting her up above him, her hands braced against his shoulders as she laughs carelessly.
She shakes her head, smiling, though it doesn't quite reach her soft brown eyes. "What do you mean, Gabriel?"
He blinks at her confusedly, as though it's the simplest thing in the world. "Margot and Aspen told me that Princess Aurora meets her prince on her birthday."
She stares at the photo for few moments.
She stands beside the boarding train, people rushing madly around them as Dominic kneels down in front of her. He wipes a traitor tear away from her cheek.
'Can you feel it? Beating right along side your heart?'
She presses her fingers gently against the golden locket.
'Yes, I can feel it.'
He smiles, holding the pendant between his fingers.
'I want you to keep it there, always. Every time you breathe I want you to feel it there. I don't want you to forget, promise me you won't forget, little-bit.'
'I won't forget, Dom. I promise.'
She clasps it shut gently, clutching the pendant tightly in her palm.
"Margot and Aspen have been watching too many princess movies." She smiles down at him, handing him two more colors, a deep green and gold. "Will you mix these for me?"
He nods, dropping the subject almost immediately, something Aurora finds so relieving about young children. He takes the metal palette, holding it carefully between his little hands as he paces over to his easel next to hers.
Aurora sits up straight, staring aimlessly at the half-finished painting in front of her, the one of a man running his hands down the length of his face, where his fingers scratch at his cheeks, the oil paint runs together in streaks that look like indentions in his skin. She rubs her thumb and forefinger over the metal locket.
Leave you?
Never.
⋯ ⋯ ⋯
Dominic
"You're not serious."
"Dead serious."
Caspar rests his hands on the frame of Dominic's Audi.
"She's going to kill me for telling you."
"Who? Aurora?"
Caspar scoffs, shaking his head incredulously. "You wish." He dodges the blow which aims for his stomach, holding his waist in defense. "I meant Olivia."
Dominic lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
"I would've found out either way. Always do." He slides the brown paper-wrapped gift into the passenger seat before turning to face him. "And I don't really care if she kills you."
Aurora
She had seen Caspar's apartment in Cambridge before, but never like this.
"One, two, three!" Junie shouts from on top of the living room table where she stands over the sea of people, and the room erupts into a chorus of happy birthday to you.
Her hands up to cover her face from all the attention, and all the phones recording her reaction to the surprise, videos she'll likely see on their stories tomorrow and cringe. Once the song is finally over, everyone is cheering and clapping loudly as the music starts blasting through the speakers again. Christian pushes gently against her back to guide her through the crowded apartment.
"Aurora!" Olivia is shouting when they reach her where she stands around a small group of people. "You look hot!"
Her skin flushes a bright red, before she is falling into Olivia's arms as she hugs her tightly, before pulling away to pour a shot of vodka into a glass on the kitchen counter, then another one next to it before grabbing both of them and handing one to her.
"Count of three, okay?"
Aurora shakes her head, smiling widely. "Not a chance-"
"Christian and Ev crossed their heart they both wouldn't drink, you're fine, I promise."
"No, Liv," she laughs.
"It's your birthday, Rory!" she pleads, evidently a little drunk already. She can tell from the way her eyes don't blink as much, and she speaks little louder than she needs to, even over the heavy bass music.
Aurora glances at the people around them, all holding their drinks in anticipation. Reluctantly, she takes the shot glass in her hand, much to Olivia's excitement. She hands her a bottle of sprite to chase with.
"To Aurora!" Olivia shouts, echoed by the other teenagers surrounding them.
They all throw their drinks back, Aurora's face scrunching up in distaste as she takes a sip of the soda Olivia handed her. She shakes her head, handing the glass back to Olivia who already is pouring her another before she can protest.
"No more."
"Two more."
"I'm small!"
"Two more, Rora, and then you're free, alright?"
A pause as she glances at the clear liquid. It looks just like water. And if you hold your breath it almost tastes the same. She caves again.
"To Caspar West!" and they all cheer, downing the first one.
They take one more all together before she hears a familiar voice resonating from across the kitchen, turning over her shoulder to see one of her favorite people ever to walk the Earth.
"I heard my name," Caspar shouts from behind them. Aurora looks behind her, sprinting toward him before stepping into his warm, familiar embrace. Olivia's friends all cheer drunkenly at the reunion before focusing again on their conversations.
"I missed you, Cas," she murmurs into his chest. He holds her tighter.
"I missed you too," he speaks over the music. "Happy birthday."
He steps back, looking around his apartment, filled with teenagers from her school and the neighboring ones.
"Olivia said you were having a few friends over," he teases lightheartedly, "if this is a few, I'm afraid for what 'a lot' is."
Aurora shakes her head, falling back into his embrace again, the alcohol settling warmly in her chest and stomach. He is all neatly tailored suits and expensive cologne.
He is paler than the last time she saw him, his cheeks slightly more sunken in, the flickering lights around them casting shadows upon the dark circles which rest underneath his tired eyes. His seemingly carefree smile still manages to brighten his eyes slightly, though she can still see the exhaustion plaguing his expression.
"You've been working too much," she states, more to herself than to anyone. Caspar had done quite well for himself, far better than any orphaned boy would be expected to do. He probably has countless other things to be doing besides being here, but Caspar always made it a point to see her on her birthday. Along with he who shall not be named.
"You've been drinking."
Her brows knit together softly.
"Not even."
"I watched you."
"You..." she smiles, allowing her buzzing mind time to catch up with her words, "cannot prove that in a court of law."
"The only court of law that should matter to you is Dominic Carter's."
The sound of his name stings like a fresh bruise in her chest. If she shuts her eyes and listens close, she can almost hear his soft voice singing her to sleep. She can feel his hand envelop hers and guide her through the North station, before the urge becomes too great to lift her up into his arms. But when she opens her eyes again, she can only think of how he left her and never looked back.
"I don't care what Dominic thinks about me." The words are as cold as she can manage them. And if Caspar catches the lie, he doesn't show it, instead looking down at her with a pained expression.
"He loves you, Aurora."
Aurora takes a step back, tugging her hands gently, but firmly from Caspar's hold.
"He hates me."
Caspar's eyes soften slightly, that small part of him that remembers her as the same little dark-haired girl, the one with dried paint stuck to her hands and arms is the same one that wonders how things could change so quickly. "You really believe that?"
Before she can answer, someone tugs gently on Aurora's arm and she turns towards them. It's Everett.
She turns back to face Caspar, who's eyes focus on Everett's grip on her arm in what looks like concern. He lifts his eyes to hers.
"Go ahead, princess Aurora. We'll be seeing much more of each other soon enough."
Before she can dwell too much on his cryptic goodbye, Everett is tugging her towards Christian who speaks animatedly to Leo. "We were looking all over for you!" he practically yells over the noise.
"I need water," she says when they reach them, swaying slightly as she begins to feel a small buzz.
"No," Christian insists, handing her a small glass, "you need a birthday shot!"
She looks intently at the glass of amber liquid, thinking back to her previous conversation and the unwelcome sadness which had settled into her chest.
She grabs the shot glass from Christian, glancing nervously at him and Leo before taking it. It burns down her entire throat without a chase, and she can feel the effects almost immediately.
"Another?" he asks, already pouring the shot while Leo holds out his arm.
"Slow down, Christian," he says softly, but Everett is already grabbing the glass from Christian and forcing it into Aurora's hand.
"One more, Aurora," he says, and she downs it more easily this time.
She smiles excitedly, grabbing Everett's hand in hers and leading him toward what is typically the dining room but currently a makeshift dance floor. "Dance with me!" she says excitedly, and Everett is all but carrying her there.
She raises her arms up above her, her melodic laughter ringing out over the music from the way her hair tickles against the exposed skin of her back. Everett smiles down at her, wrapping his hands around her waist to make sure she doesn't wander away from in front of him. His hands are warm against her skin there, and she doesn't have the heart or the sobriety to tell him to move them so she says nothing, singing along with him to some Drake song she can't remember the name of, but thanks to Christian, knows every word to.
"Ev!" she shouts over the music, having lost track of how many songs they've shouted at the top of their lungs. He nods, leaning down to listen to her more closely.
"I need water."
"Lead the way, Angel," he insists, but the next moment she is slipping out from between his hands, her small form slipping between people's bodies at a much faster pace than he can keep up with.
Aurora brushes through the people crowding the living room, most of them parting easily for her. She responds to a dozen happy birthday's on the way to the kitchen, clutching tightly her phone in her hand as she smiles for a few pictures, not quite being able to distinguish one person from the next but not quite being able to stop smiling and laughing with them either. When she finally reaches the kitchen, Caspar is no longer standing there, probably off talking with some of her classmates, or getting stoned, or both. She shakes this thought away as she pries open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water.
She shuts the fridge behind her, twisting open the cap of the water bottle before turning around to take a sip.
"Birthday girl!" a girl with a blurry face grabs one of her hands, attempting to drag her toward the living room toward another group of people with even blurrier faces. "We're playing cheers to the governor, you have to play a round."
Aurora pauses, smiling nervously before shaking her head.
"Why not?"
"Because..." she glances around the crowded room before biting back the smile which inevitably bubbles over into a soft laugh. "I'm drunk already."
"Not nearly enough."
"Aurora!" she hears Everett shout from behind her.
She turns over her shoulder, but her eyes pass straight over Everett and toward the front door and she nearly chokes as her eyes catch on the tall, muscular figure of a man entering the apartment. From across the two rooms, she watches in disbelief as hangs his coat on the hook beside the door as though it belonged there, a neatly wrapped gift held tightly under his arm. He runs his free hand through his dark hair which in this light nearly looks black. He is devastatingly handsome, the ease in his dark expression infuriates her, how he acts as if he doesn't even notice the attention he attracts, both male and female.
She falters, taking a shaky step back, as though retracting from a dream that she desperately hopes is not real.
"That's Dominic Carter," is the conclusive murmur she hears among the crowd. Dominic must hear it too, as he turns his gaze towards the main room of the party, across the apartment. His gaze immediately focuses on her, his eyes seeking hers out so quickly, as though he knew she had been standing right there, waiting there for him.
His eyes scan her entire figure leisurely, as though he is committing every single inch of her to memory. His eyes meet hers again, a listless look in his dark eyes as the tiniest, almost hopeful smile dances on the edge of his lips.
The next moment, she is turning around, walking off in the other direction despite the blurry people calling her name and grabbing her forearms or shoulders or hair-
"Ow."
-or whatever else they can get a hold of. She isn't sure where to go exactly, but it doesn't matter as long as it is away from him because suddenly she is outside on Caspar's balcony, and her heart is beating way too fast and her hands are shaking and her eyes aren't keeping up with her head and her head isn't keeping up with her actions-
Maybe he didn't see you.
She shakes her head, shutting her eyes for a brief moment while she remembers her thirteenth birthday, the one after he left. For the first couple months, he had visited almost every other week. He helped her with homework, called her every night before bed. After November, the calls became less and less frequent, before stopping entirely. When he walked through the door on her birthday, she held him so tightly, clinging to him almost the whole day, worried he would disappear again.
Her fourteenth was easier. He had hardly visited them that year: once at Christmas and again on her junior high graduation. She knew not to expect him to stay. Her heart clenches at the memory of her fifteenth birthday, the same year her mother died. She remembers his pained expression when she smiled politely at him, thanking him for the Macbook Air that he somehow knew she wanted, before wrapping it back up and hiding it in his car later the same evening. He must have found it the next morning, because it arrived back at the house the following day, with a note demanding she never return one of his gifts again.
She remembers her sixteenth, and how he lifted her up in his arms, spinning her one, two, three times, as though he'd never even left. He called her baby, he called her love. She told him to call her Aurora.
On her seventeenth, he approached her by the lakeside at her school, a charming smile on his face and a diamond necklace in his hands. He told her that he missed her, that he wished he could make her understand.
She didn't say a word. She didn't cry until he left.
Aurora presses her hands into her cheeks, praying for the cold air to sober her up slightly before the confrontation which she knows she can't possibly avoid. She hates how he still has so much control over her, and how she has none over him. She hates being a burden to him, a living memory of the past he worked so hard to leave behind. She hates how easy it is for him to leave.
The freezing air soothes her burning skin, her jacket having long been left behind on a couch or a chair somewhere, but she can't remember as she watches as the snow falls heavily outside, so caught up in her memories that she doesn't hear the door creak open behind her. His soft, low voice, the same one that used to sing her to sleep, the one that would tell her he loved her, to the edge of the universe and back, calls out from behind her.
"Hiding from me?"
She turns to face him, his arms folded across his chest as he leans casually against the doorframe. His eyes still have that ability of seeing all the way through her.
"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that."
───
6.7.18
*7415 words
bambina- vampire weekend
did you have any finals this week? tomorrow's my last day of junior year. i'm gonna be a senior in high school, which is scary.
until next time xx