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hibewriter · 8 months ago

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je te vuex

Masterlist Read it on AO3 Chapters: 1 2 3 Discontinued

This fic was discontinued because it was meant to be a gift for a friend who is no longer a friend because they are a zionist.

Shadow &. Bone | Darklina | 12.9K (total) | M

Tags: Underage | Underage Drinking | Masturbation | BF's Brother Trope

Chapter 2

When summer starts it's easy to feel excited. It's easy to think of days by the pool and lounge snacks while stealing alcohol from your parents' cabinets. But then nearly a month goes by, and you begin to wonder if one could die from doing the same thing every day with little variation.

Or at least, that's how Alina sees it.

It's not that she doesn't love Genya. There was just something about making that same trek. Taking the same turns. Getting lost in the same sea of faces. Only to sit in the same pool lounger discussing the same people who are doing the same thing. Still, what else was she to do? It was easier to get up and put on some band tee and knee-length shorts, then bound out of the door to the brownstone into the city before her mother or stepfather could tell her no. Or worse, try to speak to her.

Nothing ever stays the same, however. Today was different. The second she stepped out of the converted brownstone, there was a car she recognized all too well, idling at the curb. Maybe she should've paused or backed to the safety of her home, but even with the roof up, she could still see the vibrant auburn cascading down the driver's shoulder.

"I was just about to start walking over," she said as she slid into the passenger seat of the car. Genya smiled, eyes hidden by a pair of designer sunglasses that probably cost more than Alina's mother's monthly mortgage payment.

"No need," her friend said, thrusting the car into drive. "We're going downtown today."

(Note. It was not unheard of to venture into Downtown Os Alta. In fact, like most cities, the downtown area was a natural center for activity, with good food, better drinks, and even more shopping, It was, however, uncommon for these two friends to abruptly decide to go.)

"I don't have my —"

"Don't worry about it, Lina."

They drove for another twenty minutes, the congestion of the city's daytime traffic more of a hindrance than an aide. Still, the girls managed to laugh. They giggled at street performers in bustling chrome paint and suits who pretended that they didn't know the definition of a heat wave while staying in ridiculous poses. Or they outright laughed at boys in neighboring cars who happened to notice they were close to two women enjoying their day. And then they pulled into a parking garage that anyone could spot a mile away, and the laughter died on Alina's lips.

"No," she said immediately, looking up at the bold, dark letters above them.

"Yes," Genya said, not a care in the world as she pulled into the valet half-circle. She sighed as if she thought for a moment and came to a realization. "Listen, Lina, you were miserable last year."

"I was not miser—"

"Lina, I love you, but you were. And like, I know he-who-must-not-be-named did a number on you with the breakup, but this is our senior year!" Genya spoke with the authority of someone who'd experienced it all before. A symptom of having a brother eight years her senior, as observation gave way to confidence. After all, she'd watched countless others cross Saint Ilya's stage at the end of each year. So in a way, she'd been waiting, watching, learning, and planning the exact way she wanted her senior year to go since she was in the fifth grade.

"I know you think you're fine, but you can't spend senior year wearing the same worn hoodie and glaring at him from across the cafeteria. Don't look at me like that. You're gonna look hot as fuck, we're gonna laugh and drink and go to parties and try not to cry come May when you say you're going to UR instead of RavU. And I'll fail because you're my best friend and there's no point without you there. But we'll pretend to be happy because you won't let me pay for you and I will have a meltdown if you don't let me take you inside for some serious retail therapy."

Genya seemed breathless at the end of her speech. For a moment, all Alina could do was stare. She was dumbstruck at the sudden outburst of emotion. That is until the shrill bleat of a horn took the both of them from their stupor. Genya pulls up to the valet and the decision is made.

_________

"Miss Safin, welcome back," the attendant at the door stated. "And a lovely welcome to your friend, Miss —?"

"Starkov," Genya stated. She moved with the confidence of someone who owned the place. Each wall was painted a soft creme color, bronzed detailing accenting the thin shelves holding various accessories of insurmountable quality. "We'll be upstairs, Marcus. The normal suite."

She paused. Her fingers deftly picked at a scarf just lying loosely in a carefully manicured display.

"Can you bring me the variations of this? Oh, and your entire streetwear collection size fourteen and up."

The attendant paused, casting a furtive glance at Alina. She felt, more than saw, the way he appraised her form. His judgment was nearly palpable, obvious in the scrunching of his face. It was easier to ignore than to grow angry or embarrassed. She wore a perfectly normal size, and yet he looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"And Marcus," Genya said, barely casting a glance in either of their direction as she made her way to the floating staircase. "If you're going to look at my friend like that, I'd like to speak to The Madame in searching for a different attendant. Let's go, Lina."

_________

Their room is more akin to a hotel living room than a dressing room. There was a plush couch, deep mahogany legs, and the softest of fabrics available, set with a matching floor table and state-of-the-art low-pile rug. They had a waiting tray on the low table, a freshly opened bottle of champagne waiting in ice surrounded by fresh fruits and cheeses.

When they stepped inside Alina couldn't help but gasp, taking in the neat shelves of expensive footwear and jewelry on display. All the while Genya plopped onto the couch, taking a small blackberry in between perfectly manicured nails to plop into her waiting mouth.

"No wonder you enjoy shopping so much," Alina muttered as she walked the display shelves, marveling at the priceless items. Each item lacked a label, just perched precariously under spotlights waiting to accept any and all judgment. Genya laughed and poured the champagne into both glasses.

"We can cancel this and go to the mall," she suggested. Alina turned on her heel, a grin already creeping on her face as she approached her friend.

"Don't you dare," she said as she threw herself onto the couch next to her friend. She reached for the tray, ready to savor the raspberries on her tongue.

They were giggling with each other when the attendant came into the room, wheeling a rack of clothing with various pieces. The two watched with rapt attention as he pulled the clothes to the only bare wall. She cocked her head with a smile, noting that he refused to look at her again as he gave a short bow. There was a short murmur of leave on his lips as he moved to exit.

There was a pause as he left the room, both girls staring at his retreating form. He was barely two steps out the door, the large oak slammed shut behind him before the two fell into a fit of giggles.

The first outfit is barely on Alina's body when the first sigh comes. Which, in a grand scheme kind of way, is irrelevant. But still, the sound dug under Alina's skin like a summer camp bully. They forced her attention, even when they weren't directed toward her. Even though they were always directed toward her.

The first sigh was inconsequential – something that could've been excused by Genya's shifting body. The second, aligning with Alina's third outfit, was less subtle. It was exaggerated not only by its size but the strong and unsubtle way her friend swung her whole body to flop, checking her phone. The third and fourth were different only in volume, growing louder still. It increased until the time the seventh came it was impossible to ignore. Easily a demand for attention.

"Something on your mind?" Alina asked, placing a baggy shirt with an obscure brand's bold lettering back onto the hanger hook.

"Ya know, I'm glad you asked," Genya said, suddenly alert and cheerful as she swung back again into a sitting position.

"See," she hedged, hands beginning to play with the ends of her hair. "I just think that maybe...well you know how we're shopping?"

Alina levies her friend with a blank stare, holding a simple white tee and jean skirt to her frame.

"Well," Genya continues. She slides to the edge of the couch as if leaning in for a whisper. "Maybe we should do a test run? Tonight?"

It was Alina's turn to sigh, a million reasons to frown flowed through her mind as she looked at her friend.

"Did you already say yes to whatever this is?" She asked, shimmying her shorts off her legs so she could pull the small skirt up her legs.

"Absolutely I did." Genya was the definition of nonplussed as she leaned forward to refill her champagne. "Even told Zo you were my plus one."

"And it's Zoya?!" Alina huffed as she got the skirt over her hips, ignoring the brand insignia at the edge of her thigh. "Could you not have just stabbed me?"

"It'll be fine. I'll throw my drink at her myself if something happens."

Trying to fight Genya when her mind was made up was nearly impossible. They'd go whether Alina wanted to or not, a favor already cemented in their long-running tab of back and forth of IOU gestures.

"And you look hot in that skirt. Wear it." The redhead said, leaning back into the couch, a lot less distressed than the moments prior. A woman who already knew she'd won.

Alina rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror to appraise her appearance for herself. The skirt did look good on her, she had to admit. Even though it was shorter than normal. What was the harm in going out tonight, if they'd plan to go out all the time once school started? It was, after all, just one night.

_________

"We could always just go home." All of her bravery had disappeared as she stared at the highrise in front of them.

Genya looked at her with a disapproving glare. Her overly large purse already held two bottles of vodka and her heels didn't seem like they would last the night.

"We're not going home," she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. "In fact, we're going into the lobby of this very nice building, taking the elevator up to Zo's apartment, and thank her for inviting both of us."

"But –"

"No buts! It's a party. We're going to have fun. Possibly get shit-faced."

Alina sighed, staring at the sleek surface of the apartment building. She takes in the way the sun reflects off the windows as it sinks, casting the entire building in a soft, almost iridescent glow. It wasn't a haunted house or a medieval castle. It was just a building with a hundred and twenty floors and an all-glass facade. So why did she feel so nervous?

_________

The elevator was quiet. She shifted from foot to foot, wondering if when they got to the top she'd be faced with the same ridicule as freshman year, only this time worse.

_________

(This is a perfect opportunity to explain Alina's relationship with Zoya Nazalynsky. She first met the dark-haired girl on her first day of freshman year, in her Advanced World History class. Zoya had been sitting in the back corner of the classroom, equally as early as Alina, yet unequally as interested as preparing for the class ahead.

As much as Alina had hoped that the girl didn't notice her – a fear of being new and a scholarship holding her captive in a way that she'd only recently begun to get over – she did. Especially when Aleksander had caused the cheeks on her face to turn a splotchy pink with his attack on her notebook. There was no relief when Alina could feel her staring at the back of her head. The girl behind her was sizing her up, measuring herself against her like a snake preparing for its meal. Searching for ways to swallow her whole.

Which she did, later. When the bell rang and the class had emptied, Alina only felt better because of the kind redhead who'd sat next to her and complimented her stickers, telling her to ignore their professor because he was just trying to psyche her out. The relief became short-lived when Zoya passed her desk on the way out of the classroom, making a show of squeezing by Alina's desk. She'd slapped her hand on top of the yet-to-be-put-away textbook, Alina having utilized the inside flap to write the week's reading.

"Oh, sorry!" Zoya said, sickly saccharine sweet as she could be, before leaning in. Her voice was barely above a whisper so that Professor Morozov wouldn't hear. "I didn't realize they let chubby kids in here. Guess we'll have to widen the aisles." Humiliation had swum up again, forcing Alina to avert her eyes, away from the bully's face. There was no crueler Saint than the one that placed Alina in Zoya Nazalynsky's path.)

_________

The same feeling of a crushing weight in her chest came to her now, staring at the expanse of stainless steel the higher they climbed. There wouldn't be a quick escape if this were all another plan to humiliate her. She'd have to turn around and pray that the elevator didn't already go to another floor. All while she waited for those doors to open again while people laughed and jeered at her. All because –

Ding.

The doors opened to reveal the first floor of the two-story penthouse. Music instantly flooded their ears as party-goers ground against each other in the living room – the blaring beats swirling in their ears as they moved their hips in the rhythmic simulation of overt acts. She bit her lip as they stepped into the throng, Genya leading her by hand as they traversed past the bulk of bodies in their way.

With the expertise of someone who'd been here often, her friend led her into the kitchen. Hundreds of red Solo cups lined the edge of the huge marble island, bottles of various liquors in varying states of depletion filling the rest of the space like a miniature city. It was easy to admire the work that went into the arrangement. The bottles on stands and the cups were a key wall – saviors of the inevitable breakage of glass that was soon to follow the rowdy kids in the next room.

She barely notices the drink Genya places in her hand, sipping on whatever concoction she made to mask the burning torch of alcohol. It was sweet, different fruity flavors swirling on her tongue while Genya texted away, nails clicking hastily on her screen.

She was being dragged again, her anxiety less present now that she had alcohol in her system and the immediate fear of humiliation had abated. They went up the stairs – a fancy floating feature with coiled metal braids that appeared to hold the whole thing to the ceiling. Futuristic and terrifying all the same. She was barely able to recognize she was on the stairs before she was off them, a distant thought as her friend tugged her through the crowded landing into a closed room.

_________

It's like those scenes in movies.

Where the main character walks into a room and everything just freezes. The noise gets drowned out. There's a ringing in her ears and her eyes see red because she'd been doing so well at avoiding him.

From the look on Genya's face, he wasn't supposed to be here. He's not supposed to be anywhere near her. But apparently, that memo was missed. The second they crossed into the large den, the woman of the hour was front and center, turning to greet them with a large smile.

"Oh my god!" Zoya squealed with faux joy. She was on them in an instant, crossing the room with the speed of a track star. Alina stood frozen as she pulled them close as if the three had been best friends for the past three years, and not like her invitation was a courtesy extended because her mother sat on the same charity board as Genya's mother.

"I'm so glad you made it," she exclaimed, ignorant of their proximity in favor of speaking over the deafening music in the room. "We were just about to get this party started!" The two girls exchanged a glance, nerves finally settling in for the both of them.

Just what had they gotten themselves into?

#darklina

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