polaroid. (h. ransom drysdale) |UNDER REVISION|

Zero (0) ~ Flashback

"Cause you're just a man, it's just what you do.
Your head in your hands as you color me blue"
~ Norman Fucking Rockwell, Lana del Rey

(4th of July)

The french girl watched the Thrombeys enjoy their evening. Most of them were drunk, the intoxication made them loud, with stubbornness growing like weed in a wheat field and the racism wasn't missing out on the party either. She knew Harlan saw all this madness going down. He said nothing. But in her opinion, trying to ignore all of it was incredibly boring; it was something related to a free, live show of the monkeys at the zoo misbehaving. So she stood there, absently listening to Fran speak to her and Marta while observing from the corner of her eye.

Someone brushed her shoulder, the action making her turn. Antoinette's gaze met with a pair of steel blue eyes looking down at her "Can we talk?" Ransom Drysdale stood in front of her.

"Sure thing" She responded, feeling his hand grab carefully hers. Of all people, Ransom treated her delicately. She was his porcelain antique that was worth a million dollars, one wrong move and she was going down in pieces.

You see, They had this things going on for a while, neither decided to make it official due it might ruin things for him, in the mind of the girl. While in his mind, he didn't like to think much of it, as he didn't know what his family would say. It was one of the two things he cared his family would get their nose into, as they always did with everything, anyone and everyone.

"Where are we going Ransom?" Antoinette laughed as he dragged her. She only called him like that when they were alone, staying behind the line they drew on not spoken terms. The only thing he could do was inexplicably smile. Her laugh was music to his ears.

He turned around and cupped her face with his hands. There was a long pause from him, he kept observing her with a look in his eyes she's never seen before from previous lovers. After all that silence he whispered "To the stars"

Their lips danced in perfect harmony as their bodies fitted perfectly into each other, like two puzzle pieces. The tender kiss soon turned desperate and heated, his hands started to roam her body while her hands were placed on his hair, messing it up ever so slightly. They've had these makeout sessions before but both felt this time something was different. 'God, I hope this time is different' She thought, enjoying the kiss even more with the bar raised to the gods.

They broke the kiss with a pop! ,the loud smooch resonating with the fireworks above. No, literally, there were fireworks, it was the Forth or July after all. "My room. 9. Don't be late" He whispered into her ear, biting on her earlobe before leaving back inside. Antoinette looked at the clock the job gave her for duties. 7:30.

She headed back inside as nothing has happened, helping Fran pick everything up from time to time and staying on her spot with Marta and Fran. It was like a routine for her at parties. Stay over aside with the other two ladies, help each other pick up and 95% of the events either her or Marta or both got called in to talk about immigration and their political opinions. It ruined Antoinette's night sometimes. It was a subconscious act, she didn't desire for it to affect her so much as she honestly didn't give a shit about them. She really did feel sorry for Marta, who often served as an example more than she did.

Around 8:30, Hugh wasn't around already. Anxiety flooded her senses as well as a sense of bliss of what might happen behind closed doors. As a distraction, Antoinette decided to take some dirty dishes to the kitchen, stopping in her way back because of some effeminate laughter next to the stairs. She hid close but not close enough for them to see her.

"Babe... trust me... no, no! That french whore? I'm not with her! I swear! Have you even seen her? She's poor as shit, it looks like nobody has fed her in years!" He laughed as well as the woman standing in front of her. "I'm just with playing her, you know?" If you would ask him "why? why are you wasting such an opportunity like this?" He wouldn't know the answer. Ransom would often get lost in his own complexity, dooming him at certain point like this.

Antoinette looked at herself. It was true, she was very skinny. But so was her whole family. It wasn't her fault and she ate quite a lot still, maintaining herself healthy and doing exercise whenever she could. Nevertheless, she couldn't compare to the leggy blonde standing in front of Ransom. Her bottom lip quivered, but she held in the sob. Gathering all the courage and little piece of dignity she had left, she stepped forward, her face red with anger and cheeks soaked in silent tears that dripped down her lightweight tank top. The sight of her looking so mad and heartbroken made Hugh realize he might actually have feelings, contrary to popular belief. Before he could even explain himself, she smacked him. "I hope you rot in hell" She spat out before storming off.

"Anne! He— what happened?!" He heard Meg talk to her outside, something she muttered, a sob to be followed by a car zooming off.

"Fuck" he groaned, everyone's eyes were set on him, but that was the last thing on his mind; he just broke his million dollar antique and there was no one there to pick up the pieces.