. wanna be yours

[Deleted]

Palm trees sway in the hot breeze as Ezra leaves his apartment, making his way to his drive to get into his convertible. It's earlier than he's accustomed to getting up, but he's staved off the worst of his hangover with his usual ritual - a shot of gin and a joint, codeine and a can of Coke. The assortment of necessary items were left on his nightstand by his semi-coherent self, knowing that these would save his life when he chose to rouse. With the can of soda still in hand, he was starting to feel vaguely more human, the dryness in the back of his throat dying down and his headache going from a sharp procession of stabbing pains to a dull thud at the back of his head. This was about as sober as the young man got. With one hand on the door to his car a thought struck him. Should he be leaving a note for Kate to find? One that let her know where he would be and when he would back? The idea is over before it's even fully realised, however, given that he knows neither where he's going or how long he'll be. Getting in the car he hooks his phone up to the aux cord, selecting a self made playlist titled 'Listenable'. The Arctic Monkeys' 'One For The Road' starts playing, the irony of its timing encouraging a wry smile onto Ezra's face. Saw this coming from the start, the shake rattle and roll. Lying to himself, he keeps up the pretence of not knowing where he's going to end up. As the roof of his Porsche retreats, the warm breeze ruffling his hair and threatening to dislodge his Ray Ban Wayfarers, he thinks about all the places he could go, still ignoring the fact he won't. Maybe he could go watch a movie? That'd be no good for his hangover. Maybe some food? Could do, but he wasn't too hungry just yet. Maybe he could go back to pick Katie up, let her dictate the day's activities. Even as he's considering his options, pulled up at a red light he picks his phone up, fingers gliding expertly over the screen as he types out a message. "I'm up early. Starving. Taking you for breakfast, be at yours in twenty. E. x" After a pause he deletes the 'x', only to redo it. About to delete it again, he forces himself to send the message as is, knowing the kiss will take the edge off his barking orders... not that it mattered. Given that he was sending the message to Lux, her reaction would be as unpredictable as it gets. Though he wouldn't admit as much, that unpredictability was one of his favourite things about her. He might be dead by the end of the day for all he knew, he thought to himself, finding the thought oddly cheering. There's no need to show me round baby, I feel like I've been here before. It's a familiar route to her place, if indeed it was still her place. There's no reply to his text and he glances at the time, maybe it was too early after all... 4pm?! Stunned by how radically his body clock could vary from reality, he takes a moment to adjust. His last memory was of drinking a nightcap around 11pm, before heading up to bed... evidently that had not happened, but what had was lost to time. He wondered if he'd been alone or if there would be people who could verify these missing hours. What would probably be alarming to most people was a commonplace habit for Ezra, who often lost track of what day, month or even year it was, life a blur of drinks and familiar and strange faces, shots and blow and nosebleeds and hangovers and low quality, high quantity sleep. At least Lux would be more likely to be up. Heading to her door, he runs a hand through shaggy blonde hair before he presses the buzzer, lighting a cigarette as he hears the mechanical ring. Before she - or her housekeeper - can say anything, he's exhaling smoke to offer the camera a smile.  "Can Lux come out to play? I promise to have her back in time for bed." .................... tagged: lux restoin notes: BEYOND DREADFUL I'M SO SORRY. music: arctic monkeys, obv!

[lux restoin]

Unlike Ezra, Lux hasn’t quite lost the concept of time. Instead she chose to ignore it and make her own as she drew the floor length curtains shut to block the still beaming LA sun. Despite the newfound shade, her sight is still slightly blurred as she returns back to the spot she’d left on the floor, limbs sprawled against the dark wood floors as finger tips traced new signage ideas against it. There’s a throbbing pain behind both eyes that she pays no attention to now, suddenly too invested in what her friends are saying. Friends, if you could even call them that. The guy, either Ivan or Isaac, she’s not sure, looks like he’s been here a million times before. His lanky body comfortable, taking up every inch of the vintage velvet couch as Serra looks uncomfortable on the arm of it. She was a friend, until she ratted Lux out anyway. Telltale stories about each parties worst date led into the best Mexican joint in LA debate, to what each of their last meals if on death row would be, to whether or not the death penalty was humane or not. It all seemed so important in the coke induced haze, and she’s rattling off thoughts like the mad hatter until her phone vibrates in her lap. Eyes glance at the screen to see a screen of missed texts and calls alike, but the new addition to the bunch causes her to lose her train of thought completely. Instead of simply reading the text, she wonders what he wants, an endless list of all the possibilities racing through her mind now. Maybe he found out it was her dropping eye drops in Ursula’s drink, maybe Katie let him in on how nice Lux had been, and he knew there must be an ulterior motive at hand, maybe he’d found the note she’d left on his pillow warning him against bringing anyone to bed and telling him every piece she’d made for him was up for sale at The Goblin. She laughs to herself at the pettiness of it all, her company shooting confused looks in her direction, they’re still talking death penalty. “Nothing, sorry,” she offers, even though they didn’t ask. The buzzer rings somewhere behind her and Lux interrupts their now heated debate to ask if they’ve invited someone else, to which they both respond with their own version of no’s. Lifting herself off the floor again she opens the just drawn curtains to the hills of LA, blue eyes spotting the gaudy convertible down below as the the familiar voice comes from the security speaker. Bare feet tread toward the wall system, fingertips instinctively finding the call button, “Lux is still in her clothes from last night..” she responds as she buzzes him in. Her lithe frame draped in the poor excuse for a dress leaned against the now open doorway, silk clinging to barely there curves as she waited for him. There’s a lack of expression on her face as he makes his way up the final step, but her arms drape around him anyway. “I have company, but I can not have company,” she says just loud enough for them to hear as she cheek kisses each of his. “What are you doing? Do I have to change?” .................... notes: your everything! YOU'RE EVERYTHING. music: naddaaa

[Deleted]

As Ezra's finger falls from the buzzer, he briefly wonders what it is he's doing here. Like Lux inhaling up lines of cocaine after yet another overdose, he was here stood on the very doorstep to hell, inviting the thing that was quite literally threatening to kill him to come outside to play. It was times like these that he realized how very alike they were, two idiots doomed to repeat their own near-fatal mistakes, too bored not to play hard and loose with fate. He took another deep drag of the cigarette, longed for the can of Coke that was now warming in his car. Before long the intercom crackles into life, the dulcet tones of his ex-girlfriend greeting him with a characteristic lack of enthusiasm. The cigarette drops to the floor only half smoked, put out by a brief stomp from a Converse clad foot as he's buzzed in. It's a familiar climb to a familiar apartment, with even the distant sound of stimulant induced arguments hitting him like deja vu. Lux is stood like something out of an arthouse movie, her statuesque frame draped in silk, makeup smudged at the edges from a night of wear. Seeing her hits him like a well placed kick to the gut, all the air snatched out of his lungs as she drapes her milky arms around his shoulders... the smell of her perfume brings him right back to the thick of their relationship, to baths together and bathroom trysts, to screaming matches as brutal concurrent comedowns. Kisses brushed against his cheeks are taunting and his body aches with the desire to kiss her properly, roughly, to push her up against the wall beside them and not give a single fuck about being discovered by her company. But all too soon she's slipped away, the silkiness of her dress making it all too easy for her to glide out of his embrace. He realizes he hasn't said anything since he walked in. "I don't care," he says, voice more of a croak than he was expecting. The chatter in the background has died down but it's left him with a fleeting thought that sticks: wouldn't it be nice to do a line right now? Just to dust away the cobwebs, something to kickstart the afternoon. Fishing inside the pocket of his jeans he pulls out a small plastic bag of white powder, enough to get two nice, fat lines out of. "Let's indulge a little and get on our way, yeah? We can go anywhere you want, I just need to get out of like, indoors." Claustrophobia was a plight Ezra occasionally suffered from-- but then again, so was agoraphobia. Really most of his problems came down to a bone deep sense of restlessness. Following the voices, he nodded his hello to Lux's friends, not bothering to seek out any introductions. Five minutes later and he's leaning back on the sofa with a loud sniff, rubbing at his nose with the back of his fingers to straighten his senses. It's an immediate lift and he's relieved that this idea struck him, staving off the shakes and letting him function to some basic level. He offers up the stiff magazine he'd prepared the lines on to Lux, careful not to drop the AmEx black card he'd used to chop it. How gauche. He could imagine his brother's reaction to this scene, the hideously pretentious card with the hideously pretentious drug with the hideously pretentious crowd. He was too buzzed to care. Jumping up, he grabbed her hand, his restlessness knocked up a notch. "Come on, let's go." .................... notes: no, you!!  music: nada.

[lux restoin]

The signature scent of the blonde lingers even as she pulls away, the mix of his Tom Ford cologne and Lucky Strike’s so intoxicating to her. It’s one that taunted her over the last month she found herself void of his company. Still, he was everywhere then, even when he wasn’t. Lux swore up and down she saw him on Sunset Blvd even though he’d Snapchatted landing in New York moments prior, she was positive it was him that walked right past her at Chateau Marmont, even though no one else saw him and he was almost exclusively a Beverly Hills Hotel boy. The face before her now in the flesh haunted her dreams, almost as if to serve as a cruel reminder that he wouldn’t be there in the morning. If sleep wasn’t an issue to begin with, it was now, as she was constantly torn between avoiding it all together and wanting to sleep all day. There was no winning, the reminders were there even if subconsciously. This wasn’t just a reminder, or something she was making up in her own head, that much she was sure of as she slipped from his grip and took a step back. He was cool and casual as ever, and very much there. A moment of silence lingers and she can’t help but wonder if this has anything to do with the last time she saw him. The time she showed up at his doorstep only hours after planting a death wish in the backseat of his car, and bolting out planning her next attempt. But no, he breaks the ice. “To like, where? The outdoors?” She mimics him, stained lips curling into a smile as she notes just how serious he is. Ezra in all of his glory almost immediately sends her into a high of its own, so much so that she barely notices her company slipping out beside them as she follows him to the couch. The weight of her body rests on her knees as she situates herself on the floor before the coffee table, waiting what she thought was patiently for her turn. One arm crosses over the other and her fingertips tap much more impatiently at the top of her arm. This felt a lot like one bad habit after another, the two worst things for her yet neither one she could get enough of. “Remember when you called these Hollywood lines?” She’s reminiscing, eyes fixed on the white iridescent powder he’s handing over before what’s left of it is gone, the edge of her index finger wipes away the residue from her nose. For a moment it’s her favorite feeling, the initial high before the inevitable chase of the next. Before the afterthought sets in, Ezra’s already up and at it, a blessing in disguise as she knows better than to make him wait. She follows his lead without a fight, grabbing only her phone from the table and the scattered stilettos on the way out, not even stopping to put them on. “Wait a second,” she tells him as he heads to the driver side door, her body pressed firmly against his and her arms wrap around his waist. “I missed you..” Pouty lips pepper kisses from his neck, to his stupidly chiseled jaw, everywhere but his lips, where she hovers for a moment. In one swift motion, she reaches in his pocket to pull out the set of keys. “I want to drive,” they dangle in his face - but before he can say a word she’s slid right into the driver seat. “Get in.” .................... notes: . music: naddaaa

[Deleted]

Contrary to popular belief, Ezra was in fact a very good actor when he put his mind to it. Serene indifference is written all over his face, an impression of casual interest in seeing her that is completely at odds with how he really feels. Like how the excitement of getting on a rollercoaster gives way to a primal fear right as you're strapped in, Ezra was starting to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all. Between her cryptic messages and very real threats to his life, on paper it seemed like a very obviously bad idea. But now that he was here he could see what a bad idea it truly was, and not for any of those reasons, those being trivial as far as he was concerned. No, it was a bad idea because she was addictive, because she was in fact his very worst habit. Pining for her still though she pulled away from him minutes ago, he forces himself to get a grip of himself, dragging his eyes away from her as she leans over the table. Picking up the centurion card, he runs its edge between his finger and thumb, a thin veil of residue coming off cleanly. He rubs this against his gums, a novocaine like numbness immediately setting in. He had changed dealers not long ago and whilst he paid more he was certain this was much purer stuff, so much more acrid when snorted but giving such a clean buzz that he was happy to pay the premium. Sated, he dares to glance around the room. The heavy curtains are pulled shut and to the trained eye it's obvious what they have been up to, an empty bottle of vodka clearly giving away the drinking but flecks of white on the glass table much more of an indicator of the sort of night they'd had. He was sure that if he went to her bathroom now he'd pull back the mirrored cabinet door to be greeted by the beautiful sight of a little plastic bottle of valium, something that he'd be indulging in later to take the edge off his comedown. But now he's raring to go, her hand impossibly soft in his as he drags her outside. He had ignored her attempted trip down memory lane, knowing that it was a cul de sac and not one he particularly wanted to visit. To dwell on the past would involve dwelling on the mistakes of the past, and he knew that tonight would inevitably become one such thing, so it was more comfortable to pretend. "Where do you wanna go? Outdoors, obviously, though I can probably deal with somewhere that has like, high ceilings and space, y'know." Lux is the one person he speaks his mind to, someone who instinctively seemed to understand him even when he wasn't talking much sense. Odd things gave Ezra a sense of unease and Lux had never questioned this odd behavior - whether he was asking that they move tables in a restaurant because he didn't like the angle of a painting on the wall, or if he was refusing to go somewhere with a certain type of lighting, she never held him accountable for his illogical preferences. He glances down at her bare feet and that makes him uncomfortable too, though perhaps more understandably. "Put your shoes on, you'll cut yourself. I don't want blood on my upholstery."  Before he can unlock the Porsche, he's backed up against it, her perfect figure pushed up against him. Already amped up by the coke his heart is beating hard in his chest, the sound of it filling his ears, her perfume engulfing him like toxic spores as she tells him she missed him. Her voice is throatier than he remembers and he can think of nothing but getting her out of that dress, picking her up and throwing her onto the backseat of his car. The kisses she's littering on his neck and jawline make it even harder to resist her, and just as he's about to give in, his hands finding the small of her back and holding her hard against himself, she pulls away. A wave of anger washes over him, frustration and embarrassment at having fallen for such an obvious trick closely following. He knows better than to voice it. Instead he follows her into the car, not looking at her. "Fine. Drive." .................... notes: otp.  music: beethoven, as per.