Cave Rave

[noonelaughed]

It seems like it's been forever since Chris has been to a real, proper blowout. There aren't exactly any clubs on the island for this sort of thing, and the last time Chris had any kind of party in his own hut, it'd taken him fuckin' ages to properly sort out the damage. As it was, he was still finding brownie crumbs and other people's coats when

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[teenagerenegade]

The guilt about leaving Edmund lasts about as long as it takes for the drugs to hit Charlie's system full throttle, leaving him light headed and jumping, feeling like light must be, like, fucking pouring off him. He loves Ed, loves him desperately but, at the end of the day, he's nineteen years old and, sometimes, he just needs to be dancing.

He pushes both hands back through his sweater hair, bumps shoulders with the person next to him but he's laughing as he's apologising, hands up over his head as he's dancing.

[teenagerenegade]

"Helena!" he says, voice pitched loud to carry over the pounding music. He wraps both arms loosely around her shoulders and tugs her in for a sweaty hug, both wrists loaded with neon, glowing bracelets courtesy of Luna.

"Pretty fucking amazing, right?"

[floozyfacade]

Okay, this? This is a party. I'm pretty sure when I got here tonight, I walked into the best teen movie ever times a hundred. Which is kind of weird, because, like, I'm not that much of a drinker? And I'm really, I, I don't do drugs, so you'd think I'd feel totally out of place, because this is the kind of thing your parents warn you about - unless they're… my parents, I guess - but I don't. Actually, I'm having a blast. Everyone is loose and free and having fun, people everywhere, crashing into each other and no one, no one cares, because this is how it's supposed to be and it's just the best feeling. No one judges. Even if, out of nowhere, you get the unshakable urge to just jump right into the hot springs.

Look, they're right there, okay?It doesn't do much for the feather boa Olive's got wrapped around her neck when she winds up half-submerged, but she doesn't care, laughing as she pulls herself out of the water. Dressing up for this party in the traditional sense seemed beyond ridiculous, so she's only wearing black shorts and a

[pointzerothree]

It feels almost like everything has come full circle. Eduardo remembers all too well, even now, after a few drinks, the afternoon that he and Olive once spent curled together in a cave, saying everything they needed to before what they thought was going to be the end. The way he recalls it, it's how they first became close; even then, though, as an acquaintance of only two days, she'd still been the person he was closest to. That last part, now, is truer than ever after the events of the past week, and the mood couldn't be any more different than it was that day, and for both of those reasons (and also just because he can), it takes a serious effort on his part not to just kiss her in lieu of a response. (Also more difficult than it might otherwise be is keeping his gaze trained on her face and not her top and the way it fits, but he manages

[floozyfacade]

"There you are," Olive says warmly, "I was starting to think I lost you somewhere in the wild bacchanalia." She waves a hand, the other reaching to curl in his shirt, though she thinks better of it before she gets closer. He may not seem to mind that she's gone and splashed him, but he might if she gets him all wet. "It does, I am indeed, loads of fun." Even when she's probably as close to sober as almost anyone here is (and even then, she's tipping the scale toward tipsy, her cheeks hot with it), she has no trouble throwing herself into the prevailing devil-may-care attitude. It's one that appeals to her, really, and she finds herself incredibly pleased Chris decided to celebrate his birthday this way, not least because Eduardo's accompanied her (not on a date, exactly, since he's promised her a real one later, but she doesn't care what they call it so long as he's here, so long as it's with her).

[pointzerothree]

"You wouldn't lose me," Eduardo promises, all teasing, though there's a truth in the words he couldn't deny, "I'd find you." She's such a part of why he wants to be here in the first place that he couldn't not. He likes Chris and he's enjoying the party, is sure he has a couple of other friends here, but she's who he gravitates to, especially now. Smiling down at her, he leans in enough to press his lips to the corner of her mouth, staying close as he speaks again. This time, it has nothing to do with needing to be heard over the din of the party. "You look incredible, by the way."

[lucked]

It's always a little difficult knowing what to wear to a party like this. Mardi Gras was, for all of the indulgence that went on in the shadows, definitely more mainstream, calmer, more about the food than the revelry. But raves seem to be mostly about the excitement, and people getting so lost in it all that they don't really care how things look, mostly just lost in a press of bodies and the thrum of music. Which is okay. Not entirely Claire's thing, but she can't complain. This time, she opts for a colorful dress, a shade of purple she's sure will match the slightly shaded environment, with a couple of glow necklaces strung around her neck, mostly to keep people from running right into her.

More importantly, though, she's got a tray of cupcakes in hand. The main reason why she's here at all, and not staying away like her sense tells her to, is because there's a certain birthday boy she needs to greet. Her whole afternoon has been devoted to baking cupcakes that sport tiny little goldfish in the frosting. They're not colored as

[not_so_smooth]

Sam could kiss Claire. Or at least, he could have kissed Claire had he known she was the one that brought the substance-free cupcakes. If he had actually believed that they were substance-free. As it was, he thought it was a clever (or perhaps not so clever) plot to get the people who tried to remain sober... not remain sober.

Also, he's a little distracted by how Claire looks in her dress, enough that he when he wandered up a moment after she her place the cupcakes and put down the note he hadn't realized it was her had that done so. Dressed a bit more random than Claire, he felt a bit out of place for a moment as he tried to think of something to say to her.

"I wonder how gullible someone things we are... like the cupcakes are really going to be substance free. It's not even a clever attempt to drug people who aren't trying to get stoned."

[lucked]

The remark suddenly makes Claire feel pretty naive.

Because Sam's right, after all. A sign like that could very easily have been written by someone trying to get the partygoers roofied, penned by anyone who wanted to loosen people up. The very thought brings a sharp frown to her face, hoping against all odds that there isn't anyone at the party or on the island who'd pull a stunt like that. Maybe that's expecting too much, but Claire's only come across decent people on the island as of yet, the whole population seeming to treat one another like one great extended family. Coercion shouldn't have anywhere to fit.

"If someone really tried to pull a stunt like that, I'd sock them in the jaw," Claire replies, expression momentarily dark. "You don't have to worry about those cupcakes, though. I baked them myself, I know they're safe."

[not_so_smooth]

Sam winced at his mistake. Claire had spent all the time making cupcakes and he had just suggested that they were laced with something. This was definitely not a fantastic start to his evening.

"Alright, then I think I'll give one a try," Sam said, reaching out and taking one of the cupcakes. "And if they're not, I look forward to my mind control cupcake induced position in the ranks of the anti-clown army."

Sam lifted the cupcake in salute before taking a bite. And then another bite. And another. The cupcake was amazing and he quickly finished it, licking the frosting off his fingers.

"Okay, if for some reason these are not all gone by the end of the night, I officially claim them. All of them. Even the crumbs."

[quite_a_delight]

If weed made him like action movies, apparently ecstasy made him able to find the infinite brilliance in modern dance music.

It was all Kate' fault. Only, it really wasn't. He could probably blame it on his teenage boy hormones, usually hidden under layers of cardigans and button-up shirts and ties and suspenders. He could probably blame it on a lot of things, but he was sixteen going on seventeen, and he'd shoved a brownie down his throat the minute they'd stepped into the dimly lit caves, and now, all he really wanted to do was dance.

But for now, he stood off to the side, leaning against the rocks, wearing jeans and battered chuck taylors and a checkered button-up, half the buttons already undone in the heat of all those bodies, sleeves rolled up and his hair in disarray.

Taking a sip of punch that turned out mostly to be alcohol, he took a deep breath, his skin tingling in a way that was actually kind of awesome, stepped away from the wall and slipped into the crowd.

[dancin_maxxie]

So yesterday was sort of shit. Today was the opposite.

Crashing on Chris' floor was fine. Not pleasant but whatever, Maxxie'd had worse. And the day had been filled with good shit. Putting up posters, making brownies with stupid, frilly aprons on, raiding the clothes box which was ridiculous and amazing at the same time, lighting candles and setting up shit. Maxxie did it all with a smile on his face. Things didn't make sense. But nonsense meant Chris got to celebrate his 19th birthday.

It was a whole other kind of emotional whiplash, going from your friend's funeral to that same friend's birthday party in a little over 24 hours. But Maxxie would go with it. He'd focus on the good things and let the drugs take care of the rest.

Even though he kind of wanted to keep everything the clothes box gave him, just for fun, Maxxie had settled on black bondage-like pants for trousers and glitter for a shirt. He knew he would have lost any shirt he wore by the first hour anyway, the drugs and the drinks and the island climate and

[dancin_maxxie]

Maxxie didn't like girls the way Anwar liked girls. He did like them, but he didn't stare at their boobs (unless they were amazing, like Jal's) or their legs. He liked the way they moved, in counterpoint to male dancers, smooth as silk and lighter than air. She was everything she should have been just then and Maxxie wanted her just for that. For the dance.

There were no steps to this dance, just bodies pulsing in time with the music and limbs entangling as he pressed up close to her, a hand settling on her hip to gently guide her into his rhythm.