arlovasquez:
chessieabernathy:
She wasn’t sure if it was the coke itself, or the mixture of it with the alcohol – But it didn’t take long for Chessie to feel the effects, smile at her lips. At the sight of Arlo dong his first line, she clapped for him, genuinely proud of him while in this state. “Don’t listen to Ben,” she gives the other man a pointed look, before using the last of the bag to cut three more lines once the mirror made its way back to her. “S’easier than you’d think.” Chessie confirms with a nod, before taking the bill from Ben, inhaling the line with ease. The burn is gone, now. Her face is numb, but Chessie hardly notices, letting her head fall onto Arlo’s shoulder, hand absentmindedly fiddling with the leather harness he was wearing. “Have you guys ever tried like – Speedballing?” She questions after a beat, words slurring. “I tried to get more blow from Ro, but he was being a fuckhead, so I ended up talking to this random guy at the snack table — And he sold me this shit for like,” she pauses for a moment, train of thought briefly lost as she tries to recount the price. “I’unno, but it’s supposed to be good shit.”
In the few brief moments that passed, Arlo could feel the effects of the cocaine on his body. He could feel the seconds his pupil’s dilated and his body temperature rising; his heart beat also picked up. But he didn’t feel any different than before, just more secure in himself.
“The masters, eh? It’s nice to learn from someone who knows what they’re doing. When I first started smoking pot, I had no fucking clue what to do,” he said with a chuckle. “But here we are!”
Arlo cocked his head, turning to Chessie again. “Speedballing? Isn’t that when it’s an upper and a downer mixed or some shit?”
“Always listen to me, okay? I’m always right.” Ben insisted. “This is a lot better than pot.” Ben pointed out. Doing coke was like no other sensation in the world. He couldn’t believe he was away from it for so long. He then watched Chessie inhale as the cocaine settled into his system.
“I don’t know what you call it down south but I’ve always heard it’s called a Powerball,” He teased with a shrug. Speedballing was definitely the more popular name. He had never particularly speedballed, mainly because he was not that experimentative with his drugs. Once he found cocaine, he knew that was pretty much his calling. Nevertheless, he knew what she meant. “Rowan didn’t give you more? That’s fucked up.” He exclaimed, clearly a bit out of it. “This other guy must be a superhero.”
arlovasquez:
“It wasn’t too busy when I was there. Or if it was, I don’t think anyone was going to push me around because I must have looked really deep in thought.” He chuckled. “I’m a firm believer that the Mona Lisa was actually da Vinci on drag. I don’t know why I believe that, but I do.”
They probably really thought you were taking a good review of the painting. Little did they know you were just high as fuck,” He joked. “What did he even look like? I always pictured him with a really long beard.” Ben said with a shrug, not that he thought of da Vinci a lot in the first place. “Is that a real theory? Honestly, I don’t even know why a portrait’s so famous.”
kingkirbey:
King watched Ben work himself into a state, hating how helpless she felt. As much as she wanted to tell him that Quinn would eventually forgive him — that he had to — she knew her words would be empty. Quinn was practically a stranger to her, she knew only as much about him as Ben had told her, and she definitely didn’t know how quick he would be to forgive something that had taken such a toll on his life. “Being here is trying. And if he doesn’t see that you’re doing what you can to make it right, maybe his friendship isn’t meant to be.” King hated to be so blunt about the situation, but in her eyes it was the truth. If Quinn couldn’t see the obvious effort Ben was making to make things right, then screw him. “As much as I would really, really love that, I think it would be rude of us to ditch this party when the hostess’ are letting us crash in their guest room and drink all of their coffee for free. But we could take shots out here until your face doesn’t hurt anymore?” Moving to the counter, she plucked a bottle of tequila from the mess of half empty alcohol bottles held it up with a triumphant smile. “Isolating ourselves in the kitchen doesn’t technically count as ditching.”
Out of everyone he’s ever known, King could always cheer him right up and get him out of his own funk. Who knows where he’d be now if she didn’t find him in some shit bar in Italy? Having to accept the loss of such a close friendship wasn’t something Ben could swallow. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. Then again, what happy ending ever happened to him? “You’re right,” He admitted, at least he was offering Quinn an olive branch. It just sucked that this wasn’t going to work out. He slid off of the stool he was on and dragged his feet as he walked, “Damn us for being so polite,” He joked, “And for having a coffee addiction,” He rubbed his hands together in excitement at the mention of shots. “If we were in Germany, we’d be having Cinnamon with these shots, I miss tequila oro,” He pointed out. No one would probably miss them in here anyway. “Here’s to getting punched in the face.”
finnsmythe:
“Dude, seriously? ‘Probably hard for Americans to grasp?’ Don’t be so fucking pretentious,” Finn rolled his eyes. “And you are American if you forgot that fact,” he said and took a sip of his own drink. “I’m not surprised you brought beer by the way. Not after your rant at O’s Christmas party.”
Of course, Finn had to something to say about this. The Golden Boy that Ben’s mother wishes she biologically had rather than a runaway fuck up. However, he bit his tongue. “It’s been about two years since I’ve celebrated New Year’s here. It’s a bit different in other places.” He wasn’t even buzzed enough to be completely honest towards the other man. “Why didn’t you bring beer too?” He asked, “We could’ve had a competition,” Ben offered, remembering their conversation at O’s, “How’s that drink of yours treating you?”
quinnxarchibald:
Not knowing what to say, Quinn shook his head. There were so many emotions running through his head but no real words were forming. It was all just angerbetrayalfear mixing together into something dangerous. “How could you think it wouldn’t fuck things up Ben? It was me for god’s sake. The Archibald golden boy.” Quinn let out an angry sigh, resisting the urge to stomp his foot in frustration. “So you left. You ran away and let me face my parents, the media, the courts, and rehab all on my own. How kind of you.”
Ben furrowed his brows, the anger inside of him building up. He was only mad at himself. He only had a right to be mad at himself. He felt like there wouldn’t have been as many consequences if Quinn took the fall. They’d both escape unscathed. He was extremely wrong, however. “I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight,” He admitted. Quinn had a squeaky clean reputation compared to him. Had was the keyword. “I didn’t want to leave you to do all that shit on your own. I just didn’t know what else to do,” The guilt that Ben had after watching a man OD in front of him, unable to help, was something that was incomparable. He watched a human life leave a body. “I know it sounds bad, but...” His voice faded, realizing he shouldn’t turn this onto himself. “I should’ve just had your back,” Why couldn’t he just tell Quinn he was sorry? Why was this so hard? “I don’t know what happened.”
buffy-seymour:
“Unfortunately you’re SOL there. Unless you decide to fly somewhere else. I don’t think Florida or LA are getting a white Christmas this year.” Not that the thought had crossed her mind. Snow didn’t bother her… as long as she was home and it wasn’t keeping her trapped.
“It wouldn’t have been snowing in Greece,” He pointed out, “But I guess that’s what we get for being in New York in December,” Ben hated being able to see his breath outside and having to wear gloves. “How long do you think we’re going to be stuck here for?”
monty-santos:
“I’ve been back since the day after Freya’s funeral, I couldn’t be a ticket back in time,” Monty sighed, a shadow passing over his face as he had yet another reminder of all the death that had decided to come for his family this year. And while he tried to push the unexpected pangs of grief back tot he back of his head, Monty knew that it was still probably written all over his face. “I actually don’t really drink anymore, to be honest. I mean, I’m still working on completely stopping, but I actually converted to Buddhism and it’s greatly looked down upon since you’re supposed to abstain from things that can cloud the mind. But I will take any other recommendations that you’ve got. Are you planning on going to France at some point soon?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity. “I’ve gotten the word out and a few people have. Sheridan, I don’t know if you’ve met her yet, actually donated what I’m pretty sure was about half a Target. So it helps, there’s just also need for more.”
He had heard things, heard about people dying but they could’ve been just rumors. Unfortunately, they weren’t. “Shit, you’re really a Buddhist now? What do you do if you don’t drink now?” He asked, thoroughly confused. “I don’t know if I can recommend anything else since that counts out everything else,” Ben was always into clouding his judgment, “I’m not sure when we’re going to go back. I have some things to do here and then hopefully that’ll be one of the first stops.” He was optimistic that they wouldn’t be here for too long. “Nope, I haven’t met her yet,” He actually didn’t mind being out of the loop abroad but now that he was home, he was curious about everything. “At least someone’s helping out that’s got the money.”
@rowan-tandel
As he did most of the time since he had gotten here, he just sat all by his lonesome self. Being back in the city meant that he would have to reach out to those he ceased communication with so suddenly. Maybe that’s why he reached out to Rowan. He felt like things would be easy between them, and not complicated like Quinn.
“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” He said, as his thoughts disappeared and he looked at Rowan as he grabbed his jacket. He had been so used to travelling and having to keep his belongings close to him with the assumption that there were thieves taking advantage of tourists. He pretty much hoped the two of them could pick up where they left off. It wasn’t like he was gone for ten years or anything. However he felt like they had a lot to catch up. “How’s the business doing?” He asked, genuinely curious. Drugs to him were the norm. Whether he was doing them or around them, they were always there growing up. Drugs were like an old friend that he visited every once in a while now.
quinnxarchibald:
A small part of Quinn felt happy when he saw the sad look in Ben’s eyes as the words best friends were said. That mean part of him liked knowing that the other male was suffering too. A bigger part of him though hated seeing his former friend so upset and wanted to do something to make things right. Smiling, Quinn nodded. “Even if I did want to punch you, Chessie would have my head if I did. She’d probably kill me and throw my body in a snow bank.” He half joked, knowing, deep down, that if Chessie were to kill him it would be a lot worse tha that. “I could definitely go for a truce shot though, now that you mention it.” Quinn replied. He knew he probably shouldn’t drink more but the thought of having some sort of connection to Ben made him want to follow along with whatever plan the brunet might have.
The problem was, if Quinn were to punch him again, he’d punch back. Between the mixture of alcohol and pride, he’d always keep defending himself. It didn’t matter that he loved Quinn like a brother. So he was relieved Quinn wasn’t going to go at him again. He still wanted to keep his distance for now. This was too easy, and he knew everything wasn’t going to be resolved but for an hour or two, he’d feel less guilty. He asked the bartender for two shots of vodka before returning his attention towards Quinn. “To punching each other in the face.” He toasted.
chessieabernathy:
“Quinn didn’t hit you so hard you forgot why everyone stayed over last night, right?“ She pointed out the obvious, nodding to the snow piled up on the terrace. Chessie paused for a moment, before grumbling as she sat her mug on the counter with a dramatic thud. “Fine,” Her resolve didn’t last long.The desire to smoke easily outweighed the desire to stay inside. “I’ll go put on pants,” she grumbled as she walked away, leaving him to return to her room and change. It only took a moment – Swapping her robe for a pair of sweats and an old Yale sweatshirt, pack of cigarettes and lighter in hand. Holding them up for him to see, Chessie gave him a smirk. “Happy now?”
Was that anyone that didn’t hear about that? “I know why everyone had to stay over, I remember most of the night,” He knew there were some fuzzy moments but for the most part, he remembered the big details like getting punched in the face. Ben poured himself a cup of coffee as he waited for her to come back out, changed appropriately for the weather. He took a sip before she returned and then greeted her with a nod. “As happy as I’ll ever be,” He teased, before heading towards the door. It was a lot colder than he expected but he figured he’d warm up soon as soon as his cigarette was lit. “So did anything eventful happen last night? Besides Quinn taking a sucker punch at me?” It wasn’t an Upper East Side party without shit happening.
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