+ VERY experimental
There's an explanation in the comments at the end if wanted.
Inspiration: Pork Soda (Glass Animals)
Daydreams will be underlined
Thoughts/Memories will be italicized
Hallucinations will be in bold and italicized (as to not confuse when characters text)
CW: Description of Drinking/Drunk, Hallucinations, Minor Self-Harm, Smoking, Drugs, Vomiting, Sex/Smut, (Potential?) Religious Imagery, and Addiction and S*cidal Expressions.
!Canon!
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The cushioned bar booth slightly sunk when Midnights slid in, hands clutching the table to steady herself. 1989 sat to the right side of her, looking down at the stained tiles; no eye contact. Midnights had already ordered her drink, a Tom Collins to be specific; something so different from her usual Old Fashioned. She sipped; the carbonation creating a sense of burning to the tongue, an alcoholic sizzle flooding her throat. It was her ninth one tonight as they weren't high in alcohol content she usually preferred; to Midnights this was barely enough really, even with the slight nausea starting to waver. Her girlfriend hadn't ordered anything, starting to become a norm for the party girl. Looking to the bar, Midnights waved Red and Evermore down, still draining her drink; expression unwary. Waiting for the two, Midnights and 1989 sat in an uncomfortable silence; the older woman simply staring at the booth in front of her as the other shifted her feet, keeping her head low. Finally arriving, Red and Evermore slid into the same seat that was gazed upon, laughing about some guy flirting with them.
"God some men, you'd think me kissing you would give him a hint, not turn him on." Evermore groaned, rolling her eyes, taking the coke can, chugging it down.
"Eve, you know nothing of men I fear, they think it's hot" Red giggled, forming quotation marks with her fingers on the word 'hot', tongue sticking out in a scolding manner.
"But hell what if-" their conversation faded into the background with Midnights closing her eyes, succumbing to the dizziness with the black of her vision becoming all too real.
Midnights finds herself sitting in it, the taste of gin heavy on her breath. She tried to find something to focus on, something other than the void of nothingness; failed. Dropping her face into her arms she shut her eyes, clutching her scalp to dig nails and scratch. She hummed; drowning the abyss in a melodic tune, the soft song turning to short gasps. Before the paranoia of whom could settle; pastel of sunrise rested upon her shoulder, an unknowing soothing to a broken soul. Unwrapping from the comfort of her skin; Midnights found herself facing it, the reflection of 1989 so clear. Mouth half opened she was offered a hand, one she swore glowed of radiance; mellowing the black. Reaching out she was pulled, sudden white and blues capturing the sky, the skin of her so warm; almost a burning sensation.
1989 ran across the green below, still holding Midnights' hand; drawing her along. She was dazed by light; a beauty so profound and refined, seeming to stop with the woman at an edge. Elevation was out of the norm for Midnights, but pushing her heels off had never been easier when affection commenced the countdown. Descending was lifted from one's mind when the night sky and day blues passionately worked together, sheathing themselves from the emptiness of a cruel world.
