PULL ME CLOSER, KISS ME HARD
I'M GONNA POP YOUR BUBBLEGUM HEART
I'M GONNA POP YOUR BUBBLEGUM HEART
❀
When she hears Pavetta’s voice over the cacophony of the crowd she thinks she might be imaging it. It’s the beer or the cold or the hunger, she thinks, that’s twisting someone else’s words into the Deluminian’s tone - she is only hearing what she wants to hear, searching for a friend in the densely-packed crowd of strangers, of people who hate her but respect her just enough not to kill her.
But when Bexley throws a glance over her shoulder she’s pleasantly surprised to find a pair of rose-quartz eyes looking back at her. A real grin crosses her face, all sharp edges and ivory, and she knocks shoulders with Pavetta in an easy, amicable greeting, a hot buzz of something like excitement moving through the map of her nerves in an instantaneous reaction. Pavetta! she answers happily. Absolutely. Let’s go -
Maybe it’s the drunkenness or the warmth of the fire crackling behind them or the dim, hot atmosphere of so many people in the same room, the way such a big party gives her so much anonymity, but Bexley thinks nothing of tugging on a lock of Pavetta’s hair with her teeth and pulling her closer, so that they are stumbling shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowd. How’d you make it out here, anyway?
The words are slurred a little, just enough to make sense combined with the drawling smile that flashes her teeth in a white sickle. Whatever, she thinks. We’re gonna die anyway -
