. achilles heel

[dominic vinten cuvo]

Things were changing. Of course Dominic was neither sober nor interested enough to examine reality, but this current view in frame should remind them of the fact that this was becoming rarer and rarer to hold. Him graduating from college first, Kitty and Calvin nearly there, Violet missing for her months in rehab. Their glory days may already be behind them, fighting a battle against time itself where dynamics shifted, priorities changed, friends naturally drifted. As much as he craved Calvin and Kitty, his path and personality more so lined up with that of Violet’s; yet her time away did nothing to sway him from his bad habits. Lover or fighter? The cushion behind them catches him as he leans back to consider this, tempted to toss a coin or spin a wheel to give this answer purely to luck. Really it depends on who’s asking, on which substance. “Did you bring me gifts?” he realized to ask, eyes running unabashedly down Cal, landing at the creases of pockets near his crotch. Dom's glass hovered midair, being refilled by Kitty. Despite their current company—Violet who wasn’t supposed to partake, Kitty who rarely did in public—Dom produced the vial from his own pocket, a soft click of glass as he placed it on the table with their bottle. “Dealer’s choice.”

[calvin keller]

"Never come to a party empty handed," Calvin lulls, an oft spoken cliche his mother was fond of drifting from his tongue. Enticed further by the click of a familiar glass against the polished table, Cal shoves his hips ups to retrieve the tin he'd been favoring lately from the depths of one of his pockets. Feeling the eyes crawl, his own gaze flicking up to Kitty's form perched over the bottle as she poured, metal clattering alongside its counterpart. He wasn't sure himself what he wanted - soft edges and soft inhibitions, but a wandering mind? Sharp clarity, high energy, and the restless movement of his tongue? A combination almost seemed the best bet, edging a happy medium as the lid clicked open to candy colored pills, tiny ziploc bags. Dealer's choice, indeed. He plucks one suddenly from the stash, holding it in his palm towards Kitty. "Seems your style," he quips, the familiar shape of a cross apparent against his skin. He wonders if she'll dare to indulge so openly, ever aware to this day that she preferred the shadows and the unacknowledged. Their latest texts said as much, voice notes collecting like chips he could wield even if one's value had been significantly reduced. It's that flicker of annoyance that Dom knew, of course he knew that pushes Cal back into reality, hand sliding higher up Violet's thigh as he leaned forward to further inspect. Half in warning to hold back, half to explore the expanse of her skin, wondering just how it would feel in the midst of a fever pitch high. That's what forces his decision for now, catching a pill between his teeth before it dipped down his throat, retreating back to the initial question as the clock started ticking. "Oh come on Kit Kat, you know we're so boring without you. You're the guest of honor tonight anyway, tell us what you want and we'll make it happen."

[kitty smith-sato]

Kitty is disgusted by the lack of discretion showed by her friends. Speaking in innuendos but throwing hard drugs around the booth, buying too enthusiastically into the idea that the club's status meant anything when it came to privacy, she's far too aware of the invention of smart phones to feel comfortable. It's the kind of display that was in direct opposition to her carefully crafted image, a liability she was in no mood to contend with. Stiffening, she leans back, physically trying to distance herself from the recklessness unfurling before her. Her eyes flick from Calvin's open palm to his face and back again, her nose scrunching up in disdain. "I don't know what you mean," she says, voice colder than the champagne chilling between them. It hasn't even occurred to her that they are playing with the poison that almost killed their friend, who's sat right there, front and center. "I'm going to the bathroom, try to find some civility by the time I get back. That's what I want; you three to have some fucking class." Somehow, all roads seemed to lead to the bathroom. This time Kitty puts the seat down, fishing the necklace out from her shirt as she sits, dipping into her own stash. With the tiny spoon balanced under one nostril, she hits the flush with her elbow to obscure the sound of her snorting-- as if anyone in the entire place would care. Sniffing again for good measure and wiping her nose against the back of her hand, she takes a second to ride the immediate wave, a head rush that came from very good cocaine. Eyes closed, head in hands, deep breaths. When she emerges she's renewed, more willing to engage. She stands by the table. "Cal baby, will you swap seats with me? I want to sit with V."

[dominic vinten cuvo]

Like a kid in a candy story, Dom inventories their party options: pills, tablets, powder. Any rational voice in the recesses of his mind has long been smothered, instantly forgetting the pace of this recent week, days seemingly without a sober hour, aftereffects still occasionally resurfacing if he didn’t top off fast enough. Now they were all together, friendship holes seemingly patched—though there was the pesky detail of Violet’s recovery. Clearing his throat, Dom shielded the blonde’s eyes from view. “None for you,” he declared for some performative support, as if encouraging one but not the other sufficed. “You have to gain at least fifteen pounds before you’re allowed to do drugs again, young lady,” he admonished sternly, mirroring Calvin’s choice and being maliciously compliant to Kitty’s request…while Kitty disappeared to the bathroom, and exactly for what he already knew. His favorite hypocrite. But it seems the pairs were rearranging again, back to the boys versus girls battlefront as Dominic welcomed Calvin on the seat next to him, moving to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Good try with Kitty,” he murmured, perhaps laced with double meaning when their eyes briefly locked. “But it may just be us again,” he pretended to sigh, offering up his flute for a private toast to wash down the pill. The magnum was already running low, and they would need something stronger soon. "Show me the girl you've been talking to, I'm dying of curiosity."

[violet spencer]

She slowly sips on the champagne in the coupe glass. Watching as the rest of them down it, while Violet strategizes what her next move may be. Would she sneak off to down another drink? Flirt with a man to get what she wanted? The drugs still made her weary, unsure when she’d fully recover and not be anxious to dabble her other favorite past time. Of course as she’s thinking about the drugs, do the boys begin their game. Cal placing his stash on the table and daring the other two. Violet listens, eyes going back and forth between the speaking trio and the drugs. Finally her eyes fall, focused on the curiosity of just what it could be like again. To feel the high and chase after it for the rest of the night. Cal’s hand rubbing further up her thigh pulls her out of the trance. She doesn’t make a sound but feels some heat rush to her body and heart kicking up a notch at the contact she missed so much. Dom reprimands Violet on staying away from the very things they were about to play with, throwing around a comment about her weight. Kitty is suddenly exiting the booth, scolding the group and leaving in a flash to head to the bathroom. Violet downs the rest of her champagne glass, without a set of judgement eyes watching as she made ‘poor’ decisions. “Pour me some more before she comes back.” She offers the glass to Dom, who obliges. The magnum champagne looking it would be completed soon. Finishing the rest of her second glass just as Kitty joins the group. Kitty seems refreshed, happier than the way she left and Violet smiles as settles in next to her. ”See any cute men along the way?” She whispers, turning in for a somewhat private conversation between the two of them.

[calvin keller]

Calvin rolls his eyes at Kitty's dramatics, finding it easier to take everything she ever said as a half truth as they dutifully stowed away their catalysts. Watching the wild flash in Violet's eyes when they were uncovered, the flicker of desperation that disappeared down another glass swallowed. "Careful," he murmurs under his breath, as if he had a right to speak. As if her ultimate vice wasn't held closely in his pocket now, half waiting for her to fish it out with deft fingers and soft words at night's edge. At least he'd held the sanity to have it tested beforehand, eyes drifting darkly to Dominic as they all shifted once again, caught in a tactical game of musical chairs. Both physical and mental, ducking under his friend's teasing grasp. "I wasn't really trying." An honest double truth, tilting his head to acknowledge what would likely remain unspoken for now. Everything resting on this precipice, the calm before candied storms, dilated eyes adjusting to lights that dimmed, then glowed, then all but sparkled over time. Cal drifts into his high as the minutes pour, as their glasses shimmer with refills, as stronger drinks start to crowd the table and time bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. Conversation flowing until he finally flicks through photos of Celeste with a soft-tinged affection, surprised at his mood for a moment before the recognition has him grinning like a fool. "Fuck, it's so good to have you out here man," Cal confesses as his head tips back against the booth, soft and sinking under his loose frame. Possibilities stretch endlessly under his palms on the velvet cushions, warm gaze drifting from his best friend to his...well, he wasn't sure what to call either of the girls, suddenly anxious to be rid of the thought, or any thoughts, as he sat back up. "Anyone want to go downstairs?"

[kitty smith-sato]

It's a relief to see the table cleared by the time she returns, the three amigos the picture of innocence as she narrows her eyes at them. Being a killjoy was a cross she had long decided to bear, Kitty completely indifferent to the morality of the acts themselves but keenly attuned to optics, knowing just how much damage one blurry picture or credible whisper could do. She would know, she'd spread plenty of both. Feeling distinctly under-appreciated for all the fates from which she had surreptitiously saved them, she doesn't notice the obvious slip, even as she sits down next to her. "Violet," she purrs, able to put aside her jealousy with a little narcotic nudge. "There are no men worth having here, trust. Now be honest, are you sleeping with your sponsor?" Her voice has dropped down, out of earshot of the boys who are paying them no mind. "You know your secrets are always safe with me. I promise." The night starts to blur, though she manages to refrain from topping her alcohol levels up too much, skipping rounds and only sneaking off to the bathroom once more. By the time Calvin suggests a move, she's feeling more warmly towards him, forgiving him of the sins she can no longer remember being annoyed at him for in the first place. She smirks, placing an elbow on the table and her chin in her palm as she considers him, head tilted as it so often was. "Only if you promise to dance with me."

[dominic vinten cuvo]

Everything starts to feel lighter, warmer. Better. It’s as if colors are heightened, contrast ratcheted up, textures amplified. A glass of champagne eventually becomes a cocktail permanently affixed in his palm, letting it mix in his blood soon buttered by the pills and sharpened by the coke. Dominic sheds a jacket, likely a second casualty lost to the night along with his sunglasses, his shirt thin and cool and half-open down his chest. This is where he’s good, at least he likes to think so—where all his worldly efforts and interests briefly coalesce, when everything feels like his for the taking. Calvin reminds him that he cannot have everything he wants. It’s with a curious mix of pride and jealousy that Dom feigns listening about Celeste, flexing his fingers on Cal’s phone, zooming in and out on the girl with a vague noise of approval. “It’s good to be back,” he agrees easily, his affections starting to bubble up. His summer spent away gallivanting after graduation had slotted him amongst various crowds and groups, but none more pulling than this. “Is that a euphemism?” Dominic grinned at Cal’s invitation, stairs already stretching out beneath him. “I thought you’d never ask.” The prospect of a scenery change and further seclusion was only more enticing, his hands alternating between the girls on the way down, then sent to Cal’s shoulders with an excited squeeze. The soonest moment he gets, he lifts the little spoon from his vial to his nose, the back of his throat numbed on the way down, the diesel scent igniting his brain.

[calvin keller]

Cal knows, the moment Kitty’s sharp eyes land on him, that his entire night is about to recalibrate. He’s suddenly fighting desperately for his wits that had untethered long ago, focus shifting from the taunt of her sloped, graceful neck to Dom’s hand warm on his shoulder, Violet’s tiny hand in his grasp as their heels echoed harshly in the stairwell. Time bending in infinites, realizing suddenly that he’d gone quiet until he peered over the chaos of the writhing bodies, squinted his eyes, and dropped suddenly into his instincts. Wary but composed, reaching for Kitty suddenly with a strange desperation to be alone in a crowd. To meet her at her worst, to unravel the thousands of miles that had kept them apart and make her eyes flicker with vulnerability. Or hatred, or lust, anything but the cool filter that reflected off the ceiling lights as he stared at her. Hands drifting from the ends of her silken hair to the curve of her face, thumb testing the lopsided swell of her lip before he tugged her close. "Beau comme toujours, Minou," he dares into her ear, letting the heady beat sway their bodies together. Beautiful as ever.

[kitty smith-sato]

As she descends the stairs into the next stage of the evening, Kitty pulls out her hair tie, letting her glossy, dark hair cascade around her shoulders. She's in the sweetest of spots, loosened up by her dips into her own supply but still more cognisant than her companions, just how she liked it. The music is loud, vibrating through the floor as beautiful people mingle, though she has no interest in so much as looking around, her attention focused in on their little foursome. It feels almost like old times, Violet's trauma forgotten, their stupid party for her feeling like ancient history. It really had to be good coke for her to come so close to a forgiving mood. One of the plans she'd laid in motion is coming to fruition too, her ice queen act bringing Calvin close, so close that she finds herself in his arms. Intentional though it was, she's still caught off guard by his palm against her face, still faintly bruised. The French finishes her off, a delicious confection over text that turns irresistible in the flesh, cutting her down so effectively she feels like an actual kitten. "You're better looking than I remember," she says quietly, pulling her head back to look up at him, inspecting his face up close in the half-light as their bodies fall into sync with the music. "And I remember you being dangerously good looking."

[calvin keller]

It feels like he’s staring at a stranger and someone he might love simultaneously, drowning in the ink of Kitty’s hair swimming across her shoulders. Dark shadows to sweet brightness, the innocence of her face tipping warmly into his hands. He could add bruises if he wanted to, thumb shifting to skim the pulse point of her neck. He could kiss the life from her glossed mouth. But then the game would be over, and the chase would be had, and they’d likely look to each other in boredom and not interest. Another secret he’d rather keep, gaze trailing hers in its roving study. "You can look but can’t touch," he reminds, even as he drew closer. Felt their bodies line up from shoulders to hips to thighs, skin zipping at the contact high and factors beyond. Lips brushing light against her cheek as he deftly turned her away from their friends, grip tight on the sheer of her slim hips and voice dipping low and honest. "They wouldn’t deserve the show we could give them anyway."

[henry albright]

VIOLET As Kitty often requested, she received. Everyone leaving the booth to end up on the dance floor. Kitty leading the way, Violet's hand intertwined with Cal's as they maneuvered through the crowd. The temperature instantly rising in the club as they joined the rest of the warm bodies. Violet pulls away from Cal, allowing him to partake in the activity in which Kitty demanded. Her buzz loosening her body as she swayed to the side of them, arms coming up above her head as a song she recognizes comes on. Eyes closing and feeling the moment, enjoying every bit of the loud speaker that made her heart pound in the best of ways. Her ears thrumming with each beat that dropped. She suddenly feels hot, overwhelmed that there was no drink in her hand and that the alcohol she had consumed was slowly wearing off. Her eyes come open and Violet sees Cal and Kitty's bodies moving, the two of them focused on each other. Having lost track of Dom, Violet sweeps her hair to the side and heads towards the bar. A drink now in tow, she's stopped in her tracks at a familiar face looking towards the dance floor. Henry? She tries to make it fast before he's caught her elbow.  HENRY His eyes have to blink twice at the scene before him. Kitty, Cal, Violet and Dom. All in the same club that he was attending in Los Angeles. What were the odds. He curses under his breath before he turns his attention back to his teammate who was telling a story. Mind suddenly unable to focus on whatever is being said, Henry slides out of the booth to get another round of drinks. Shooting each of his friends a look as they lift up their glasses as if to say yes please. He's ordering at the bar when he notices the group has moved to the dance floor. Kitty and Cal's bodies soon pressed against each other and he feels a muscle in his jaw tick. She was free to do whatever she wanted, but this was striking a nerve. Especially having just seen her in Venice. It had to be the group. The core four as he deemed them, constantly causing chaos and proving a different side to Kitty's character. Luck is on his side when he spies Violet away from the group, she appears to have noticed him too. Her walking space speeds up just before his hand curves above her elbow. "Violet. Good to see you. I know that you're off to warn Kitty that I'm here. But no need, she seems pretty busy. Tell her I said to have fun." Gaze flickering back to the dance floor and waving her off. "Hello.. Henry, I'm going back now," Violet mumbles, still in obvious shock at their interaction before scurrying off to report back to her best friend.

[dominic vinten cuvo]

In this moment, he thinks of total debauchery. He thinks of his ancestors—the Romans—imbibing and indulging at decadent banquets, a vision of group sex and intoxicated epiphanies. He imagines naked Bacchanalian festivities under the stars, the combinations of drugs it takes before he wanders the edge of an almost religious experience at the mercy of his altered brain chemistry. As lights strobed and bodies moved and eyes darkened with that time of night, Dominic nurses his drink and flickers in and out of a conversations with strangers, moved by the music and shifting pockets of darkness between flashes of color. The sight of Kitty and Calvin always does something visceral to him, twisting him deep in his belly, a pang between pleasure and pain. Little reaches his features, all of it gathering behind his eyes like storm clouds as he watched their mouths and hands and…a greater secret being discovered. Their proximity is deliciously worrying, half-expecting a gaze thrown his way, waiting to register their guilt, their shyness, anything. However the suspicions start to fizzle as his attention snags on Violet, moving with the urgency of someone putting out a fire, the glass nearly cracking in his grip at the possibility of resemblance. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he groans out loud, a startling pulse of sobriety threatening his senses. The look on Violet’s face confirms his suspicions, that bad haircut and stupid face he was dismayed to recognize. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[kitty smith-sato]

Kitty scoffs at his reminder. "As if it's up to you." Bodies moulded together, her arms crossed around the back of his neck, clutch hanging lazily from one hand. Though there's no space between them to speak of, there's an invisible wall they are both all too aware of. Unlike binging and purging, Kitty is all too aware that if she crosses that boundary there will be no going back, no means of unfucking him, or Dominic for that matter. The latter is another factor that swirls around her clouded mind, aware of his general volatility but acutely aware of how much it heightened around Cal. Contrary to his suspicions she has no interest in pitting his loyalty to her against his longing for him, having weighed those odds and decided they were not comfortably enough in her favor. That didn't mean it wasn't tempting, especially now that she's manoeuvred out of Dom's view, Cal's whispers sending shivers down her spine. "Tu es une mauvaise nouvelle." Heartbeat hitching, she casts her eyes to the crowds, mainly trying to keep herself on an even keel. As always, she's drawn to the golden head of her supposed best friend, trying to surreptitiously slip back from the bar. It's as Kitty's eyes are rolling that she's stopped dead, her blood running cold, body stiffening in Cal's tantalizing grip. "Fuck," she mutters, finally looking at him and back to the familiar silhouette, urging him to look at the iceberg they were rapidly approaching. This was bad. Even in the throes of young love she had kept her two worlds as separate as possible, so it's with genuine horror that she looks over and sees that Dom has already clocked. "Fuck," she repeats, pulling apart from Calvin as she tries to think what to do, a million options spiralling around her head and none of them holding any appeal. Finally she looks to Cal once more. "You've got to keep Dom occupied, okay? Please." It's as pleading as she's ever been, her voice taking on an edge of panic.

[calvin keller]

As if it's up to you. As if he'd have a choice in the matter, Kitty running games behind that slicing gaze he'd never be privy to. Waiting to push the domino until they all fell in her favor, ever aware that one stood stubbornly out of place. He can almost feel Dom's burning gaze against his neck, only clutching her tighter as soft French drifted back into his ear. It'd almost be worth it to falter if only to drag her down with him, the arch of her spine in his grasp an indicator she wasn't as sturdy as she claimed. Until that shifts, too. Cal's eyes drop sharply when her body seizes up, wildly able to parse the fear from her features until he followed her gaze over his shoulder and understood. As if he could forget that face anywhere, as much of a nuisance as he was some strange, continual thorn in Kitty's side. If Dom wasn't already irate he sure would be now, already shifting toward his friend before the desperation of her plea stopped him cold. He'd never heard her voice like that, a curiosity unleashed at her vulnerability that he fought to hide as he nodded. "You owe me," he decides, another favor for another time, another debt to collect, sliding back through the crowd and landing right at Dom's side. "Come on," he consoles, taking his sharp chin in hand when his friend won't look away. Studying his faraway features, the thick flutter of his eyelashes, before signaling toward the bar. "Let him ruin Kitty's night, not ours."