FINDING LIV'S APARTMENT turned out to be quite easy with Matilda behind the wheel and Freja staring at the navigation app on her phone, and sooner than later, the two were standing outside the Moore's front door, bickering about who was to knock — storming into her home no longer seemed like such a fireproof idea, but Freja supposed that if faced with annoyance and confusion, she could blame their unexpected arrival on Ravi, as he had been the one to grant them with her address, after all.
Luckily, once Matilda had delivered a sturdy knock on the door and Liv answered within seconds, they were greeted with a bright, lively smile and Freja could sigh out in the relief of not having to throw her new friend under the bus. Tupperware first, she stepped indoors, handing the leftovers over to Liv before glancing around the cozy apartment, neatly furnished but surprisingly, adorned with an easel and the means to paint in the middle of the living room. "I hope we're not bothering. We stopped by the morgue but you weren't there so Ravi told us where to go. I just...", Freja drew in a deep breath as she twirled around and met Liv with a smile of her own, "wanted to bring you some leftovers from last night."
"Not at all!" Liv breathed out happily, something in her mood shifted significantly compared to yesterday. "I am so sorry I couldn't make it. I helped a detective solve a case so I had to cancel but this is just the sweetest thing. Thank you so much", she spoke sincerely, filled to the brim with emotion as she placed a gentle hand on Freja's shoulder and then floated into the kitchen with feather-light steps. Unsure what had caused the strange, almost poetic air, Freja glanced at Matilda, who was far too preoccupied reviewing the apartment to pay attention to her.
"Detective Babineaux, right? Clive?" Matilda called out to Liv, her attention drifting from the decorated walls to the blonde as she sealed the Tupperware into her fridge. Freja guessed that working at the precinct had given Matilda the luxury of staying on top of things by simply keeping her eyes and ears open, and Liv more or less confirmed it when she nodded in response. "He's nice. He had just transferred from Vice when I got my first murder case so he gave me some good tips. Did you know that a lot of the times, the spouse did it?" the Dean elaborated with a tone that was both terrified and fascinated, and whilst Freja's features twisted into something along the lines of horror, Liv seemed unfazed in the eerily calm smile she directed at Matilda.
"So he says", Liv chuckled, clearly having heard Clive's theory, as well. The amusement on her face dissolved eventually, her keen eyes gaining something new as she strode across the room to make her way to Freja, successfully leaving the latter unable to move as she followed Liv observe her like artwork, lips parted when she cupped both sides of her face with gentle, delicate hands. "You are so beautiful!" she gasped, eyebrows furrowed while her fingertips trailed Freja's jawline and her gaze picked apart every detail, from the long eyelashes to the soft lips, leaving the Barrett uncomfortably aware of every flaw and imperfection and that morning's lack of skincare routine. Liv didn't seem to mind, though, if anything she was more enthralled by the bumps and tiny scars left from her active childhood. "I must paint you, Freja. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
Mouth falling open, Freja wasn't quite sure what to say to Liv's fervent gesturing between her and the easel she had set up in the living room, but the stains of color that she now noticed littering the woman's clothing suggested that she wasn't just teasing. Yet, she couldn't muster out a single word, only a confused huff when she looked back at Liv, but her unsure shrug was taken as a positive answer, earning a blissful smile from the unexpected artist. "Magnificent. I'll go find a stool for you to sit on", she insisted, her hand lingering across Freja's shoulder before she erupted into a hurried stroll to another room, leaving her new friend no choice but to give Matilda an apologetic look.
Snorting, the brunette shrugged off her coat, gesturing for Freja to do the same. "I mean, if she's not going to eat the leftovers, I will. Especially if you brought some of Willa's mashed potatoes", she fantasized with less frustration than expected, and Freja couldn't tell if she was making fun of her or actually on board with the kooky idea. Maybe she would happily claim the painting as her own.
"Yeah, that's the new normal", another voice spoke up from behind them, and visibly flinching, both Freja and Matilda twirled around to find Peyton Charles leaning against the wall with a soft smile on her flawlessly painted lips. A stunner, as always, and apparently still Liv's roommate — the recognition pulled a laugh from Freja who didn't hesitate to part her arms and step forward in the hopes that her hug wouldn't be shot down. Luckily, Peyton seemed to be just as delighted to reunite, and within seconds, they were enveloped in a tight embrace, even if they had never had the time to grow as close as they could have.
"Good to see you, Peyton", Freja exhaled in relief, her eyes falling shut for a second, but soon enough she was pulling away and giving her a persistent look to ensure she was really there, still the same, determined and strong-willed woman she had always been, just with a shorter haircut. She did the same for Freja, though not much had changed with her — on the outside, anyway.
"Right back at you", Peyton beamed up at her, before turning to Matilda with a suppressed smile and lifting her hand in a brief wave. "You too, Matilda." Nervously grinning, the detective returned the gesture, not knowing what more to do or say, so she settled for wandering towards the living room, encouraging Freja and Peyton to follow her lead. "So, anyway, yeah. Liv's been trying a lot of different things lately. Hobbies, interests, you know. It can be... a lot but it's some sort of coping mechanism, I guess. Uh, one time I found her chanting something in the kitchen in the middle of the night but everyone takes their time, nothing I can do but support her through it", the Charles recounted, a sigh escaping her lips as she straightened out her pencil skirt and sat down on the couch, sympathy and allegiance coloring her words.
Knitting her eyebrows together, Freja peeked at Matilda, but when she seemed just as confused by the way Peyton was describing Liv as the survivor of something, she returned to the lawyer-to-be with a careful gaze. "Coping mechanism? Did something happen?" she questioned with a heavy heart, not only worried for Liv but silently cursing that Matilda had been somewhat right to wonder if the woman had gone through something terrible — no doubt, Freja was going to have that rubbed in her face sooner than later.
With a laugh that was anything but amused, Peyton leaned back in the couch and nodded. "Yeah, you didn't... read about the boat party? Or hear about it, anything? The one that happened a few months ago?" she queried, glancing between both women and receiving only unsure shrugs in return. "Oh, well, not much is known about it but people went out of their minds. Started attacking each other, murdering each other. It was a bloodbath. There were a ton of casualties. Drugs were involved, I think. Liv was there", she dropped her voice down to a mere whisper, possibly to avoid Liv hearing, but Freja didn't wonder why she wouldn't want to discuss the topic a whole lot. Suddenly, calling off her engagement with Major and dying her hair didn't seem like such wild decisions anymore — not that she had judged them beforehand, but her heart was certainly beating with sympathy now, if ever.
Matilda had the familiar look of being about to ask more questions on her face, but she didn't get a chance when Liv entered the room with a carefree smile and the promised stool in her hands, and all three of them flinched on the couch, as if caught sharing a grave secret. Trying her best to not look at Liv any differently, Freja forced a smile and at the Moore's request, she climbed off of the couch to join her at the easel, but she definitely didn't feel like rejecting her request now — if she wanted to paint her, then that was exactly what she was going to get to do. Much like Matilda, seated right next to Peyton, she was unable to stop thinking about the story, however; her mind riddled with questions and theories. She didn't know how she had managed to avoid news of the boat party, but right there and then, she was making the definite decision to be an expert on the matter by the end of the week.
"Okay, now look like you're deep in thought. Like something excessive is burdening your soul, begging to break free in any way it can", Liv instructed once she had seated Freja on the stool and then escaped to the other side of the canvas with a brush in hand.
Needless to say, she didn't have to try too hard.
—————
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN MAKING it home after a prolonged lunch and setting up camp on her couch with the company of her laptop and reruns of The Simpsons serving as background noise on the old TV Freja had gotten from Elliot, day turned into evening and evening turned into night. The set of the sun went utterly unnoticed by Freja while she gnawed on the strings of her hoodie and clogged her laptop up with a dozen tabs on the mysterious boat party gone horribly wrong, her outdated reading glasses teaming up with the second cup of tea as she read up on the nightmarish incident. For someone who did her best to avoid routine, the self-induced bubble she got lost in whenever a new topic to research arose was a pattern she had proven unable to alter — much like binging a TV show, studying an interesting concept was impossible to do in parts. It consumed Freja to a point where time no longer mattered, only getting through all the material and finding answers did.
It was easy to spend the following couple of days in that same zone, cutting breaks only when the hunger got impossible to ignore or the bathroom called her name, sleep taking over in the middle of the night only to jolt awake in the noon with the laptop still huddled up in her arms. Matilda had stopped by with lunch the next day and after forcing Freja to take a shower, she had done most of the eating while the Barrett had ranted about everything she had figured out so far.
Peyton hadn't lied when she had referred to the party as a bloodbath, and half of Freja's thoughts were concerned for Liv, while the other half was greedy for more knowledge. The party guests had gone feral, something animalistic in them triggered by an unknown variable, though several forums and articles that Freja had stumbled on seemed to lean towards a drug called Utopium — regardless of the source, however, people had snapped into deadly violence, leaving Freja wondering about the things Liv had seen, the things she had done in order to survive. If she had survived. It wasn't an easy subject to casually slide into a conversation, but Freja guessed that Ravi would know a thing or two about it, too.
When evening fell again and the familiar theme song of Freja's favorite cartoon echoed throughout the apartment, she had shifted from the couch to the kitchen, patiently standing by her loyal teapot whilst leaning on the countertops and rereading the official news report from the night of the party. The haunting tale of the morning after was spinning dark images in her mind, how the beach had been littered with yellow body bags full of incredibly young people that had been picked up from the remains of the boat or the bottom of the deep waters. There was no official footage of the crime scene, but Freja's imagination could picture it all more than vividly, the horror movie-like situation that had stained Seattle's reputation. To some extent, anyway — if Freja had managed to avoid chatter about it, she guessed that the people in charge had gone to great lengths to keep the tragedy out of the limelight.
The peace in the apartment split apart when the kettle erupted into a hysterical whistle, and nearly jumping out of her skin, Freja backed away from her laptop with a flinch and shot a glare at the stove. Before she even had time to grab the kettle, someone knocked on her door and she groaned out loud at the struggle of rushing to turn off the stove and then skipping over to the front door while hanging her glasses on the collar of her shirt. Knowing very well that she hadn't invited anyone over, she peeked through the peephole with a wary stare, but the sight of Elliot and Julian eased her into opening the door and, without lingering around in the foyer, returning to the kitchen.
"You guys don't usually visit this late", Freja greeted with a question masked as a statement, though she didn't mind — she hoped to convey that with the follow-up of questioning if either of them would like some tea. Mirroring one another, both men shrugged off their coats and while Julian informed that he'd happily have a cup, Elliot shook his head but carried a white box of something to the kitchen, nevertheless.
"We happened to be in the neighborhood. Cake tasting ran late so we thought we'd stop by and bring you the rest", the oldest Barrett announced and steered the box onto the counter, before gesturing at Freja's laptop, "what's got you in a research coma?"
Snorting at the term Elliot had grown fond of, Freja poured two cups of hot water and after dumping the tea bags in, she slid one to Julian, who sat down next to his fiancé on the other side of the counter. "This boat party that happened five months ago. People went crazy and offed each other. Some survived, though", she explained, scanning over the website while stirring her tea, and when she looked back to Elliot, her voice lost just a hint of its courage. "Like Liv Moore, for example." The look that dawned on his face was a mixture of amazement and horror, but instead of saying something, he exchanged looks with Julian who huffed out a heavy breath.
"That sounds terrible. I think I remember reading about it on the news", Julian recalled, pity tracing his voice as he pouted and drew a careful sip of his cup. "Is this, uh, Liv all good, though?"
Offering a mixture of a nod and shrug, Freja slid the white box closer and with a tiny fork grabbed from one of the drawers, she began to pick on the gooey chocolate cake hidden inside. "I mean, yeah. All limbs attached, no horrible scars or anything. So, physically, I think so, but going through something like that must be hard mentally. She, uh, wanted to paint me today. Got a good start, too, so, unless Matilda gets dibs, you might find some new art in your house soon", she explained with a chuckle, undeniably quite impressed with the first look she had gotten at the painting.
"Well, if your other works don't sell, you could write about the boat party from a psychological point of view? You really do have talent in that department, still", Elliot proposed, flashing a grin but not really joking — even if Freja had abandoned her future in psychology, she had spent years studying the subject, and it still held significance to her. She had simply become too preoccupied with everything else, but subconsciously, she had already begun to label Liv's process with terms she had learned by heart, no matter how much she was trying to be unlike everyone else in the assumptions and attempts to understand.
With a snort, Freja quirked an eyebrow at Elliot. "Not a bad idea. Maybe those would actually gain some attention—", she began and twirled on her heel to toss the used tea bags, but froze on the spot once she remembered the spiked interest in her zombie articles. For the most part, her blog and the more official texts she had attempted to share out to the world were taken as fiction or nonsense ramblings, but not too long ago, more people had begun to pay mind to what she had to say. Five months ago, actually.
"What?" Jules urged, already familiar with the look that took place on Freja's face when she managed to connect the dots on something, clutching his mug in anticipation as he leaned towards Elliot to observe the woman together.
"I think the boat party happened around the same time that people started to read up on my research more", she muttered whilst lowering her cup and grabbing her laptop to swiftly dig through her blog, "in which case, someone out there might believe that the people who attacked others during the party might not have been human."
»»»
Author's note
I love my lil nerd so much 😭 So much, in fact, that I'm out here publishing chapter 4 but writing chapter 23 omg. I've been trying to get most of this book done before school starts again (August 8th) and so far, it's looking like this book will be around 25 chapters + epilogue (: So all I gotta do now is remember to update!
Also, I gotta admit, that potential between Matilda and Peyton was totally a decision made on a whim but I don't regret it??
But speaking of last-minute decisions, I know the boat party wasn't really as big of a secret on the show as I made it sound in this chapter, but some things won't follow the show so strictly. Like the timeline, for one, because I have a bad habit of writing books with "the following day" or "the previous night" etc. when in reality there might be several days or a week between episodes. But I've also noticed that some iZombie episodes start immediately where they left off so I think we'll be good!!
Thank you for reading! ❤️