IN WHICH the heiress to grunge is swooned by the king of garage rock in a lifelong affair over the span of three decades, always fervidly dancing on the edge of crashing and burning...
[2000s JULIAN CASABLANCAS x GROUPIE!OC]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The energy seemed to reach a pinnacle as they stepped into the club. "Boon" had just opened in SoHo; it was another entrepreneurial venture by some unheard of nepo baby trying to make inject himself into the bloodstream of the city. An old theatre turned party venue; the façade held remnants of a gilded age much long gone while the interior had been turned into a modern playland, drenched in white and metallic. "Boon" was like Warhol's Factoury on Clockwork Orange steroids. Endless corridors of light and winding dance floors, it bridged the gap between all paths of life in the city. Bringing every scene together, almost harmoniously. It pushed the envelope of the modern, snobby bourgeoisie, the JFK jrs without being too tame for the garage rockers and club kids.
Another attractive factor was that ID wasn't required. If you were elite enough, that is. Thankfully, being the daughter of one of the 90's hottest rockstars meant easy entrance. The girls walked downstairs through the grungy futuristic entrance, smoke already fogging up their peripheral. A plethora of young DJ's had made their way through Boon, as the club grew more and more popular it became known for its selection of house and ambient music. It reverberated in their chests, pulling them under and into the night. Strobe lights meant that everything moved much slower, faces appearing and disappearing, strangers never to be seen again. "Let's dance!!" Chloë called out over the pumping music; Stella seemed a bit disoriented already as her best friend handed her a drink.
Sanity swirled into a careless memory; every fleeting moment was filled with an electronic beat to distract from everything outside these walls. Sweat dripped down their skin, time slipping completely out of sight. Slightly inebriated, the girls stumbled out to a booth, giggling. Chloë inspected her now broken heel, "Shit. So much for free shoes." Stella chuckled, holding onto her gin and tonic, looking up from the mess of snapped straps and Band Aids she saw a face through the crowd. A pang of familiarity tugging at her chest at the sight of his profile, she knew she'd seen him before, maybe on a cover of some sort. From across the room, Nick's sharp eye had caught her staring, he nudged his friend. "You'll never believe who's gawking over here." He smirked, dragging Julian's attention away from a separate conversation and into his line of sight. "Who?" he shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. "I mean, I don't even think she's old enough to be in here," with his scoff and chuckle, Julian turned around, Stella's purse reflecting off the lights and illuminating her face.
The second she noticed him staring, she whipped her head down to Chlo who still fiddled with the now completely severed heel. She looked up at Stella and chuckled, "What? You look like a little fawn in headlights." She gazed back up; he smirked and waved his beer at her. "Isn't that Kurt's kid?" Julian turned to Nick, who nodded in confirmation. "Looks like little miss teen spirit has got eyes for you." A snicker leaving him as she shyly looked away again, squatting to help her friend with her heel.
"You remember that gig you took me to? A couple of months ago, you and harmony? What was the name of that new band again? The one with the cop song."
