young liars | barbie.

[ashton]

it purred to him. whispering lightly in his ear. brushing his skin with it's velvet paws. tempting him. but he couldn't. not now. he had to have some sort of self control. his ivory fingers played over the shadows, tracing their outlines until they were nothing but a figment of his imagination. lingering in the corners of the grey, stoic room until they were burdened with the reality of existence - disappearing lightly into the seams and the cracks that could never be repaired. he watched them, his blue pools clouded with that characteristically morbid enhancement, perched on the edge of the scratched, wooden armchair. his fingers, elongated and pale despite the summer sun that lingered within the fabric of his shades, dying as the day descended into darkness, were wrapped around the tip of the arms of the chair. and although his appearance other than that seemed tranquil, or peaceful, his insides were brewing like a storm. he felt like he was bleeding from his fingertips, scratching them so hard across the wooden surface that it blistered them. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing rapid and fast as if it would create a sort of release. none was given. he sighed, inwardly, before pulling himself up from the laden chair.

he didn't bother changing. he wasn't out to impress anyone. in fact, he wasn't even out to socialize. there was only one thing he wanted, and that was more of it. enough so that it could supply him for another few days. he lingered over the chair, picking up the black, leather jacket, and slipping his narrow shoulders into the cold embrace of the fabric as it melted with his bare skin. he moved then, toward the counter, picking up the keys that sat there, and then ruffling through the various drawers in search for money. he found enough. twenty bucks. it would get him enough for now. he stuffed the bills in the pocket of his tight, black jeans, before peering around the small, dingy room one more time - as if, perhaps, he'd forgotten something somewhere. but he hadn't. and so with a light shake of his head, parting his delicately threaded, black hair on his head that looked somewhat like a mop, he opened the door to his apartment, and emerged into the crisp, evening air. he descended down the steps, passing his unfamiliar neighbors without a lilt of a smile, taking the stairs two by two in his hurry. in his desperation, almost. as his feet struck the thick, packed dirt, he pulled the keys out of his pocket, and directed himself towards the sleek, black motorbike underneath the canopy. he ignored the stares, the pressing eyes as they melted to his skin, making him feel uncomfortable and bare, and proceeded to the vehicle, swinging his leg over the machine and thrumming it into life.

after pushing the black helmet over his mop of hair, ashton moved the machine out of the parking lot with an acquired grace, pushing it towards the exit and out into the world. he swerved in and out of traffic, clipping cars and invoking anger as he maneuvered himself around them. the ride was short, about ten minutes, and before he knew it he was pulling into the pressing atmosphere of thirteen below on a friday night. after shutting off the engine of his motorcycle, and putting his helmet in it's appropriate place, he continued toward the establishment - his clouded blue eyes narrowed and his strides thick and methodic. he passed through the entrance without even passing an eye - he was typical of their paying customers. even though he hated the place. the air was thick with smoke, and it was so uncomfortably hot that he felt like the air in his lungs had to be cultivated for him to survive. he walked between the leather-clad, pulsating bodies as they pressed against his own ivory skin, and he rejected them, pushing them away with his ivory fingers, his head set as he walked. he would've kept going too - straight to the corner where he knew his supplier would be sitting, in a shittly dressed booth with four women surrounding him, his face harrowed from his own use of the drugs - but he noticed something. perhaps it was just another shadow, dancing in the corner of his eye, luring him away as a distraction. but this shadow his distinctly recognized. the blonde hair, and the scantily clad golden skin. he'd know it anywhere. he'd know it in his sleep.

his legs now guided him not toward his primary destination, into the dark corner, but toward her. he wasn't sure what did it - guilt, perhaps, curiosity, or maybe it was just simply worry - but either way he moved with the assurance of where he was heading, pushing against bodies that forbid him from seeing her. women and men who were completely unaware of where they were, or who they were with. ashton knew exactly how they felt. and although he could practically feel the bills, grinding in his pocket, begging to be used; he knew what was more important. because for once he was sober. for once he knew right from wrong and good from bad, and for once he pulled instead of pushed. so when he finally reached her, his ivory fingers projecting outward from their resting place in front of him, touching her golden skin and sending a familiar shock of electricity through his thinly guarded carcass, he knew what to say. for once, he didn't have to fumble for words against his own brain. "what're you doing here?" she was the same. but she was different. even as his lips brushed her ear, his words low and soothing, yet flexing with surprise and worry, he knew that she was different from before. thinner, perhaps. her body less defined. but maybe that's what being out of high school did to you. but he knew it, as soon as his clouded blue eyes drifted over her features, that she was high. he knew the look, he'd worn it before. and he knew, from experience, that anything logical would be wasted on her. "i have something to show you." his fingers lingered over her arm, sliding down from her bicep to her delicately curled fingers, grasping them gently in his own. he was close to her, so close he could feel her breath as it danced across his skin, and his clouded blue eyes watched her own, probing and concerned. "come on." he pulled her gently, only wanting to get her out of harm's way. not that she would understand.

[barbie athena lyons]

she couldn't stop. her breathing came shallow and raspy as barbie tried to swallow. it was an unsuccessful attempt, as her dry throat responded with nothing but a fit of coughing that she didn't partake in, laying limp as her lungs writhed, wanting nothing but to sleep more. but that wasn't true - what she really couldn't take anymore was the chronic allure. it was tantalizing her. that was what provoked her skeletal fingers to reach across the carpet, reaching for the needle she hated it she needed it. the glass swayed like the curves on a wave in the ocean as she found it, fumbled for a moment. it must have been the music moving it that way. the carpet trembled with the sounds of the loud music the dj was pumping through the club, but barbie sat on the floor near the back. she was with several people, all of which her memory was not recalling at the moment. she obsessively clutched the long, cold length and slid part of it into her arm, blinking slowly as her eyes unfocused and refocused on abstract shapes and moving forms around her. it was surprisingly quiet, despite all the people talking and laughing and breathing and dancing. it slid into her, the only antidote to everything, spreading and dissolving in her veins. it was the new and improved cells - replaced all the red and white living things with beautiful crystals and ice... she exhaled. "hey." someone nudged her arm, and barbie cracked her eyes open. was she crying? her vision swam as her glassy gaze struggled to focus on the face. right - it was the guy she came here with. he had given her the heroin that night, and barbie paused a moment, trying to recall his name. her dry lips opened, beginning to form words. "stay awake, alright? i don't wanna have to check if you're breathing every five minutes." he was kidding, right? barbie couldn't tell, but the comment pissed her off. she turned away from him so her face wasn't in his view, and closed her eyes, hating that he pulled her out of her brief numbness. barbie reached up, bringing her hands to her face and pushing her hands across it, back through her hair, nails digging into the back of her neck. she wanted to scream.

barbie didn't even know why she came out here. other than the drugs, of course, but even that was a stretch for her to want to leave the safety of her apartment. it was easier there, in the cold silence that despised her. she wasn't around people who told her differently. it's not your fault. you couldn't have done anything. don't blame yourself. be easier on yourself. take care of yourself. then, some of her favorites. you have to pick yourself up and keep going with your life. don't let silly things fuck up the rest of your life. pull yourself together. barbie had never been an incredibly violent person, but all she wanted to do to those people was claw their eyes out. barbie hadn't asked for anyone's help - ever. she couldn't remember a time where she sought out assistance, but these people invited themselves to her home and tried to make her better. her freezing fingers fumbled against her cheek, brushing away hot tears as she swallowed again, struggling to stand up, keeping a hand on the wall for extra stability. barbie trudged numbly towards the bathroom, glad that it was so near and she didn't have to pass halfway across the club to get there. she pushed into the door, glad to see it was empty except for some girl passed out in the corner. barbie remembered the days she would snicker at that girl. until she did it. she collapsed forward, resting her elbows on the counter and resting her throbbing head in her shaking hands and struggling to breathe normally. how proud her mother would be of her. not that barbie cared - she had ditched her. probably because she was some idiot teen mom crackwhore. barbie almost actually smiled - maybe she would follow in her mother's footsteps.

after slipping her charcoal hoodie off, barbie splashed frigid water on her face (but it was warm compared to the ice in her veins), ran her fingers through her hair, adjusted the dark wash jeans and plain black bandeau (things she had lazily put on leaving the apartment, things he thought she should wear, because he was currently supplying her the drugs). she didn't want to return to him, but knew that returning to the place outdoors would promise her more of everything she needed. barbie pulled the lightweight jacket on (it was useless - she needed blankets and blankets and blankets and bodies to keep warm, even in the humid club reeking of sweat), not bothering to zip it up as she dragged herself back to the door. she was out of the dimly lit bathroom and back into the entrancing black circus of thirteen below, leaning against the wall to pass those crowded outside the bathrooms, some sprawled on the floor, some in similar but more intimate positions, some talking. barbie reached where her group was and stopped, leaning against the wall with her chin tipped upwards, trying to suck in real air, when suddenly she heard his voice, asking her what she was doing here.

except, it wasn't the his she had been referring to for so long, the only one that mattered because he had her drugs. her nerves overcompensating, pinching angrily as she jumped, eyes struggling desperately to find his face and focus on it. she hadn't seen it in so long. it felt like an eternity - the insomnia and drugs made everything blend together into one long century for every hour that passed. her stomach rolled with nostalgia and anger and fear. how could a voice be familiar and completely foreign all at once? his voice was beautiful - it always had been, and her ear pulled away from his lips so she could turn her head to study them, bring a hand up and let her fingertips hover just above his mouth, a single, barely existent brush against his lower lip. "i have something to show you." her nerves clenched angrily again at the small digit above her elbow, sliding down to lace her fingers, but while her nerves were screaming at her, everything else was singing. he had something to show her. she exhaled once against his throat, blinking slowly and relishing the pressure on her fingers as she turned her glassy gaze up to find his. his voice lured her forward, or the tug of his fingers, and barbie followed mutely, trying not to stagger as he tugged her away from the group. "hey, where are you taking her?" ha, that was funny. the guy who had just given her heroin was deciding to be protective? or possessive. or just a fucking asshole, as usual. irritation flooded her system and barbie grabbed ashton's hand tighter nerves screaming skin singing. "shut the fuck up, tobias." oh. she did remember his name, after all.

more luring. she turned dizzily, her fingers still hanging onto his tightly. the pain felt so good. cold needles weren't substitute for human fingers. "what is it?" it was a sick remix of a small child at christmas waiting to see what they had received, but it was no doubt too quiet for ashton to hear. in fact, it didn't really even come out - she just mouthed the words, her voice too weak to push them out. what if she never spoke again? barbie's muscles tensed in fear. the heavy smell of sweat and smoke was suddenly lightened, and her eyes whirled to find her following him out of a back exit door, slipping through behind him and staring out at the cars whirling across the street. her fingers gave an ache of protest and she suddenly remembered the arm that the was attached to. barbie turned around too quickly, and her head throbbed once (she closed her eyes quickly to compensate, swallowing, taking a deep breath of the fresh air). she had a bad feeling there was no surprise for her, and she wondered why ashton had come and found her. it had to be more than a coincidence. "ashton..." it was still weak, but the word actually made its way out this time, carrying better over the empty air than it did in the pounding humidity of thirteen below. "what are you doing here?" she echoed his own question back at him, confused and dazed and she suddenly wanted nothing but to go back to freshman year, when everything was better.

[ashton]

his skeletal fingers draped around hers, providing the warmth that hers seemed to lack. how many times had he held her hands? plenty of times. so many times that he couldn't even be bothered to count. he'd held her hands, her face, and her, when she slept. he'd held her like a lover, like a friend, and like an enemy. she had so many faces that he almost couldn't creep track of them - flashing through his vision like a child with a toy, boring of one so quickly that they impatiently demanded the next. he'd seen her when she was angry, and when she was tired. when she was lonely, and when she was happy. he'd seen her at her best, paraded around like a champion, golden tanned skin with a boy who loved her more than anything. he'd also seen her at her worst, lingering in and out of consciousness as the fragile tips brushed the tears from her face and she screamed in anger, the words morphing from her mouth like the cries of a ghost, mournful and drawn. he knew her better than anyone. he knew her before her skin was golden, and her hair was blonde, and before she'd been skirted around like a trophy wife, clad in all but a pathetic outfit that claimed her social status. he wouldn't tell her, wouldn't dare mention it, because he had never really wanted upset her. he'd always managed too, though. always managed to make her cry, instead of laugh, and scream, instead of smile. he'd never be good enough; so he didn't bother trying.

so when she reacted, so gently to him; not without violent words, or mournful apologies; a seed of hope festered inside of his heart. an ember so weak that it was snuffed within moments, so dull that it didn't touch his skin, or his face, and didn't make him glow. he almost wanted to smile. a regretful expression that would lift the corner of his mouth in the charming half-smile, that said that he wasn't happy, but he was glad. but it didn't happen. instead, he simply watched, like a third-party observer, as she lifted her own, golden fingers, letting them hover over his pinched, thin lips. he resisted the urge to give in, to simply let her be herself, to give in to the ache that resonated through the core of his body, persuading him to give up, to discontinue fighting. he ignored the ache, pushed into the back of his throbbing brain, and didn't move from her touch; but also didn't engage. he remained trapped, behind a thin film of glass, unable to reach for her, unable to consume. he didn't want that. he couldn't want that. not now. not after all that he'd been through. he would say it wouldn't be fair to her, but that would be terribly cliche. no. in fact, it wasn't fair to him. it was enough that he had approached her, and enough that he had lulled her away from the darkness that had crept to consume her. that was enough. it would always be enough.

"hey, where are you taking her?" the voice, light and distant as it was almost swallowed by the repetitive beats of the music, pushed through ashton's thoughts, and distracted him from her. his clouded azure pools dragged reluctantly over the features of her feminine face, to that of the man who had spoken. a man, shorter than ashton himself in height, but thicker in build, watched with pressing eyes as the two reunited. ashton didn't say anything. he didn't see the point. he didn't want to fight with anyone, especially a drug-riddled assfuck, and he knew the chances of him even winning were low. so he remained silent, his thin lips pressed into a hard line. but apparently, he didn't need to say anything. "shut the fuck up, tobias." and the man, however broad and masculine he appeared, did exactly that. the moment ashton's pools lifted from his face was the moment he forgot his existence. he took the cue, too, as an opportunity to drag her away. his thin, methodically moving legs moved, as he led her quietly through the screaming crowd. he pushed and shoved, moving those who wouldn't move out of the way, clearing a path for her through the crawling bodies. as he moved, that same urgency purred at him, the same whispers as they echoed from the opposite side of the room. dark and urgent and sultry, as they coaxed him, making him falter for only a moment, his elegant head twisted to the side, but he realized what was happening before he could be guided. and instead, he abruptly pulled away from it, and toward the nearest exit, craving an escape from the empty promises of the void.

the crisp summer breeze caressed his windbitten, ivory skin. he almost stumbled down the steps, desperate to be rid of the humid, club air, and the threat of being in such a pressing environment. his azure pools danced frantically for a moment over the scene surrounding him, unsure for only a moment as to where he was. but that was when he heard it. his name. coming from her mouth. "ashton." she would always have his attention. and now, his clouded pools whipped around, dancing frantically back to her face, where they rested, worry creasing the corners of his face. "what are you doing here?" his fingers were still ensnared in hers. he looked down at them, for a moment, joined together, almost as if he were confused, before his eyes floated back to the features of her wired face. "i'm.." but the statement floated from his mouth, and paused, detached as it hovered in the air between them. he couldn't say what he'd come here for. pride. perhaps. or maybe guilt. but either way, the words couldn't come from his mouth, they couldn't form in his lips. "i was meeting someone." the half-lie trickled from his lips too easily. his fingers held hers, tightly, and in an eager attempt to change the subject, he pulled her away from the dark backstreet. "come on." he urged again, his clouded pools floating from her face to the parking lot, which loomed in the distance. he walked, with a sudden sense of urgency to escape this place, and half-dragged her along with him, his pools dark as they flickered from one thing to the next. the two figures emerged into the crowded parking lot, and ashton effortlessly guided her around the looming figures with what appeared to be invisibility. he came to settle, though, at the black motorbike, turning around and finally releasing her from his tight grip. his fingers, experienced, wrapped themselves around the black helmet, where it was positioned, and he gifted the thing to her, holding it out with a narrow expression that was a mix between indifferent and worried. "put it on." he told her, gently, for a demand, his dark eyes narrowing again. he just hoped she wouldn't struggle.

[barbie athena lyons]

barbie couldn't describe why she reacted the way she did. maybe it was just because she was exhausted. how much had she gone through with him? there had been enough anger for every war in the world. there were so many times where she had let all the anger get the best of her. those hadn't ended well. they ended both in tears, two exhausted and pained souls who were too afraid or maybe even too prideful to take shelter together and they had to stake a war against the other. how many times had she screamed and cried at him? it wasn't even about her anger at him. it was about everything else that she had fucked up for herself. it was about everything she had done. and that right there was exactly the reason why she wasn't standing here screaming at him. because somehow, over the course of the past few fucked up months, barbie had stopped pointing the finger at everyone else and she finally took the blame. so the burden was off of him. it made her feel slightly less guilty, for a stupidly brief moment. that made her want to laugh. bitterly. too late. she'd already screwed everything up for her, and him, and them. so maybe this was barbie lyons giving up. who would have ever thought. her eyes were suddenly sharper as she watched his dart back to hers, at attention the moment she uttered the sound of his name. her heart yanked in half. she felt the burning warmth of his gaze on their hands. and for once, barbie didn't think about feelings or ramifications or the past or consequences or what was right and so, she didn't drop her fingers from his, but she held them tighter. it was making her feel again. "i'm..." her thoughts swum, and barbie's eyes trailed off to the side distractedly, her ears still waiting him to finish his thought but her eyes suggesting otherwise. "i was meeting someone." she was too exhausted to overthink that, too. cheerleader barbie: who? a girl? really? is that true? are you lying? why would you lie? real barbie: "oh." her voice sounded as if she was about to cry, though she wasn't, and barbie's free hand moved up to push into the side of her temple. the pressure on her fingers "come on." she followed mutely, again. he pulled her and barbie tried to keep up, her brain aching as it tried to move around some invisibly dark barrier that would make everything more clear.

if it all didn't hurt so bad, none of this would have ever happened. they both could have left each other alone in contentedly angry silence. barbie bit her lip, drawing her eyes across the ground, sketching lines as she placed her feet behind where his had gone. a foot or car would occasionally flash by in her periphery, and barbie found herself wanting to cry again, confused by whether she felt scared or embarrassed or what. why did she always have to know how she felt? she felt like shit, that's all. childishly content with her snippy conviction, barbie pushed her lips into a pout and looked up at the back of his head. he was still dragging her along. cheerleader barbie: let go of me, i can walk like a normal fucking human being, ashton, you don't have to treat me like i'm four. you're not all that fucking superior, you know! real barbie: silence. she did a lot of that - barbie spoke less freshman year than any other year of her life. silence spoke for itself at times. actions spoke louder than words - that was how the quote went, right?

he stopped so abruptly that she nearly ran into him, stopping herself behind his left shoulder and putting her small hand on his arm to steady herself, wondering why they were stopped at an empty parking space. her vision whirled again and came to settle on the not-so-empty space - it contained a black motorcycle instead of a car, and barbie had the urge to sit on the pavement and cry again. that urge was getting a bit annoying, and fear spiked through her ice water veins. cheerleader barbie: you've got to be kidding me. a motorcycle? i'm high off my ass, ashton, i can't sit on a motorcycle, and why would i go anywhere on a motorbike with you? real barbie: "uhm." it came out so quietly it was like a peep, a small whimper as he fumbled around for something, coming out with a black helmet that he presented to her like a present. ignoring the helmet, barbie forced her eyes (who hadn't been making a habit of listening to her) up to stare at him and ignore the helmet, with some amount of pleading in them. she didn't know what she was pleading for - she was just scared, as usual, but it was ashton and there was no way she was going back to tobias.

"put it on." it was a command, but his tone was softer, something seemingly designed for her ears, that soothed her, pulled her spinning earth to a stillness, and time stopped for a brief moment as barbie closed her eyes and inhaled, the warm air chilling as it entered her frigid bloodstream. she opened her eyes (in her imagination, the fresh air was helping her equilibrium) and gave her head a small shake. "i don't think..." she trailed off uselessly, reaching out with fingers (tremors too small to see) and took the helmet, begrudgingly sliding it over her head (at least she could see enough to know which was the right way to put it on). her hair wasn't wild, it settled the same way it did upon drying from a shower, but she pulled it over to the side of her shoulder and gave her head a small shake, struggling not to tip precariously as she edged carefully towards the bike. she wanted to say things - a lot of things to him, some that she would end up saying and some that she wouldn't, but now wasn't the time or place. and if she knew anything about ashton, she knew that protesting at this point would get her nothing. barbie's fingers touched the leather seat of the motorcycle as he got on with relaxed, experienced motions that made her crave the same thing. barbie unsteadily followed, her fingers closing around his arm as she pulled a bent knee over the side, slipping on cautiously and removing her grip on his arm, moving it down to the sides of his jacket. sleeping sounded so nice; dreamless sleep, where she didn't have to experience all the sensations of this world. just black nothingness. that's all barbie really wanted. and for once, she was able to close her eyes and escape everything as she rested her head carefully between his shoulder blades. she didn't know what to regret anymore.