Chapter Text
You weren't sure what was so funny, but you couldn't stop laughing. A shot glass appeared in your hand and you sent it back, reeling from the taste before devolving back into giggles. The music was incoherent; the lights were dim and bright and dim again. The people around you moved like waves, you flowed with them.
Arms from either side of you hung over your shoulders as you danced. The group you came with had expanded, you weren't sure which friends were new or old. But you were in the circle of them, clinging to the bodies beside you as everyone danced.
Voices mixed with the volume of the songs, sometimes your eyes were closed and sometimes you saw everything. Fingers prodded at your shoulders and you laced a hand into theirs, inviting them to dance.
“-oke!” They were shouting something, which was entirely lost to you.
“Sorry?” You squinted as their face lit up from the flashing colors. Recognizing the girl as one you came with, another round of laughter bubbled up. “Gracie!”
“You're wasted!” She threw her head back as she laughed too, god she was beautiful. You plastered on a dopey smile as you yelled back, “I’m happy!”
Her head shook in some notion of disbelief, the curls around her face bounced. She leaned in and your eyes closed, but opened again when you heard her voice by your ear.
“There's karaoke!”
You gasped as she spoke. Gracie leaned away with a glowing grin as you exclaimed, “I love karaoke!” Another laugh rose out of her.
“I know! That's why I’m telling you!”
Her fingers were still entwined with yours and you followed as she pulled you away from the deforming circle. “Let's sing!” She pointed to the short stage where three other girls were already lost in the microphones.
You knew two of them, maybe the third was recognizable. “Hey! We know them!” You shared another grin with Gracie.
“I know, you invited them off the streets on our way here!”
“I did?” When had you been on the streets?
Gracie pulled you along to the girls, who were scrolling through the screen of songs. Their faces brightened when they saw you both, beckoning you closer.
Leaning over one, (maybe her name was Anna?) you watched the letters fly by. Trying to make out the words was impossible, and you had to wait until the melodies started to discern what song they chose.
The beat rose over the music playing in the other half of the club and you whooped in glee at Kesha’s voice. Now, did you know what song it was? No. But did that really matter when every word you sang was slurred to the point of another language?
Exactly.
You weren't entirely sure where the song began and when it would end. But the voices would change and you would sing. At some point, the microphone you were holding became a water bottle. That really had you confused for a brief moment, before Lady Gaga started and your confusion was lost to fangirling.
It could've been 15 minutes, or an hour, you really couldn't be sure. You remember a brief pause between songs, as the girls decided the next choice.
The shortest one was asking excitedly if they knew one, to which the rest disagreed. Peeking over shoulders and wanting to be a part of the conversation, you begged to know what the song was.
“Mary On A Cross!” She pointed at the option, the album cover shone up at you. Her eyes were practically pleading you to have some knowledge of what she was talking about. “It was all over Tiktok!”
“Yeah! I love that song!” You were lying. But she cheered and picked it and grabbed your arms and swung you around the stage, and you pretty much forgot you lied in the first place.
You spent most of it laughing, following along sloppily to the lyrics. (Gracie and Anna(?) and the two others got over their begrudging of the choice and joined in.)
Your chest was pounding as the riffs and drums filled your ears. There was a dying ache in your chest suddenly, one that you couldn't shake. It faltered your intoxicated happiness and there was a moment of what you could only describe as brief sobriety.
Your vision completely cleared, and you were looking at a man hovering near the door, yards away. He was watching everyone, a tilted smile came and went. His foot tapped along and he met your eyes several times, but never quite stayed.
The music slowed as the lead singer continued, and you sang with him. You weren't sure if you looked at the lyrics, you only remembered the man. The way he was staring back now.
And the searing pain that spread between ribs, followed by a plague of unexplained fear and panic in your mind.
Your singing came to an abrupt stop and Gracie was in your arms as you shouted a need for the bathroom.
“Finally feeling it?” She laughed, but you didn't. You felt like you'd just come close to death, or something of the sorts. You'd been afraid before, but that feeling was something beyond you.
So yes, you were feeling it.
Gracie led you to the bathroom and held your hair back as you retched. It was incredible you lasted this long in the first place; she was telling you.
The fear and pain was gone so quickly now, you almost thought you'd imagined it. If it weren't for the man’s eyes that bore into your memory.
“I need air,” your voice scratched along the walls of your throat. Gracie’s fingers combed through your hair. “Alright, we’ll get you some air.”
…
With how many nicotine addicts loitered about, you hardly got what you were looking for. Which was still uncertain. Gracie had noticed some inkling of difference in your mood, but it was easy to play off as nausea.
August in Chicago was nice, and the breeze of night was refreshing. It had never been your favorite city, with its busy streets and crime rates. The clubs were enjoyable enough.
Along with the fact that a few of your closer friends lived here.
“So, how long do you plan on staying this time?” Gracie leaned into your side. Her hair had a flowery scent and her body heat melted into your arm.
“I dunno,” Your lips pulled tightly together at the thought of staying. You weren't one to settle down. “A couple more days, maybe.”
She hummed softly, but she didn't try to bargain with you like last time. 'Don't you ever plan on getting a home? Building a life?’
She didn't agree with your lifestyle. Not many did.
“Where will you go?” She asked. At least, she tried to understand it.
A smile picked up as you considered your next stop. “I've got some friends up in New York, some family lives around there too. I wanna see the coast again.”
She was quiet, before saying in a small voice. “I wish you'd stay.”
Your heart sank at her sudden confession. You didn't want her to feel sad about it. You didn't think your presence meant all that much, and that's why you only visited for a few days. The less time you spent, the fewer people missed you.
If the next events hadn't happened as they did, you might've found yourself in a completely different situation. If someone from your group hadn't poked their head out and asked for Gracie, if you hadn't glanced to your right, if a man wasn't waiting in the dim lights several feet away.
Everything would be very different.
“I’ll be right back,” Gracie gave your arm a squeeze, one that you barely noticed.
The man from before had looked over.
“Hello,” His smile was shy and careful. The searing pain came shooting through your chest again, and you choked on your greeting to him.
Doubling over, you felt his hand graze your shoulder and his worried tone that questioned if you were okay.
It dissipated as strangely as it came, and you gave him a thumbs up from your position. It was embarrassing enough to have provided him with an idea of how drunk you were. “Fine, yes. All good,” You heaved.
“Might've been all the singing,” His tone was humorous, and you chuckled. “Or the alcohol,” You spoke before you had the chance to think. You could feel the giddiness coming back.
“Likely,” He agreed. You straightened a bit and took a better look at the man. His eyes strike you. A pale white and green, heterochromia.
In your state, memories were foggy. Still, there were images you could recall of eyes like those. Scents of ash and ink. “Sorry, have we met?”
His smile was gentle, like a father watching his children. “I believe we have. Quite some time ago.”
You opened your mouth to guess, but found you couldn't come up with a name. You laughed and waved your hand apologetically. “You'll have to tell me, I’ve been to so many places now y'know? Too many faces, can't remember them all.”
He nodded slowly, clicked his tongue and said, “You, my dear, knew me as Copia. Sweden. Has to have been a decade at least. Maybe 15 years?”
You gasped despite yourself, and slapped your leg as you realized. “Oh my god!” You exclaimed, really looking at him.
Your mother’s most hated neighbor. As a child, you were an adventurer, much to your parent’s dismay. The abbey with stained glass and forbidding aurora was enough to draw you in. The sisters of sin and Copia himself were nothing but pleasant, albeit a little strange.
You only ever knew the gardens. Copia always stopped you from getting inside, and would disappear when your mother would come to collect (and scold) you.
She wasn't a religious woman, but the beliefs of his organization pushed her further towards Christianity. It was ironic in some way. You only lasted a few more years there. At ten years old, your mother was paranoid that you’d become corrupted by their abbey, and quickly moved your family far away.
America, type of far.
It’s been so long, you hardly thought about them anymore.
“I must be hallucinating,” You laughed, running your fingers up through your hair. “I’m not in Sweden, right?”
“No,” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “No, we’re in Chicago. We've brought our rituals to America.”
“Your rituals,” You muttered, racking your brain for what that meant. “The concerts?”
His nod confirmed it, and you grinned in pride that you could remember. Although you were never allowed to see any rituals, the stories from the sisters always reached your ears.
“My mother would've drowned me in holy water if I ever saw one,” You giggled as you said it, though Copia didn't find it too funny.
“Hm, yes. And how is she? Your mother.”
You dragged your thumb across your throat and laughed some more as Copia’s eyebrows raised. “Naw, it wasn't anything bad. She had heart conditions.”
“I’m…sorry to hear that.” His tone was courteous, and maybe if you weren't dazed out of your mind, you would've seen the smug sort of expression he carried.
But you just shrugged, the liquor getting the better of you. “It's whateva. Dad’s gone too, so I got the family’s fortune. Single children have their perks.”
Your grandparents had been extremely wealthy business owners. Your parents? Frugal, pretentious, and very secretive. With your father being the favorite, he got the majority of their money, which inherited you not so long ago.
Your luck was convenient like that.
“I see, and that serves your traveling funds, I imagine?” Copia’s voice was back to a playful jest. You nodded along.
“I could travel the world a thousand times, I bet,” You were exaggerating beyond belief. But his presence was becoming familiar, and the odd fearful sensation was gone.
“Yet, you haven't come back for a visit. I’m hurt,” He said this with such dramatics that you were laughing again.
“Honestly, I've forgotten everything from back then.”
“We must make a change to that, then,” He decided. “I perform tomorrow, with my ghouls. Why not come and see us, you can bring your little friends that you sang with tonight.”
Any normal person would've made up some excuse. A strange man from your childhood (one that worships Satan, no less) probably should've raised warning bells. You must be deaf.
On top of the fact, you were going numb again. The pounding music from the wall behind you was consuming your mind.
“And see a famous ritual?” You grinned at the offer and grew excited as he nodded. The noise from around you, mixed with the music and smells, drowned out the fact you were getting hiccups.
“It would make me so happy,” He took one of your hands and patted it kindly. “It gets quite loud, are you alright in the pit?”
“The pit?” Your shock was evident and he smiled as your reactions delayed. “All of my friends in the pit? Really?”
“Absolutely, a reunion gift.” He paused before continuing, “And if you enjoy it, I'd like to ask a favor of you.”
You nodded and realized how heavy your head felt. It was lighter when Gracie helped hold it. Where was Gracie? You came with her, didn't you? With a whole group. Where were they?
A pat on your hand brought you back to the mystic man in front of you. “Would you be alright with that?”
You flashed a bright smile and agreed, to what? You had no clue. But just as you were about to ask, a hand wrapped around your bicep and the flowery scent was back.
“Gracie!” You swooned into her side.
She said your name with an exasperated sigh, “Do you know him?”
“Oh yes,” You told her about Sweden and how your mother hated him and how he invited you to a concert tomorrow. Copia stood silently, listening and nodding to confirm your stories.
“Alright…” She gave you a hesitating smile. “We’ll talk more about it when you're sober, okay?”
“Whadda mean?!” You gave her an incredulous look. “I am sober!” You were a liar when you got drunk.
“Right,” She let out a snort, beginning to pull you away. As you turned to wave to Copia, he slipped a paper into your hand.
“A number to reach me,” He gave it a pat and stepped away. While you were too far gone to notice, he could see your friend’s discomfort. “I do hope you'll come tomorrow.”
“Wouldn't miss it!” You gave him a bright smile, and let yourself get pulled away by the girl.
Once inside, she gave you a stern look. You returned it with a pout.
“Did you really know him?”
You placed a hand over your heart. “Swear on my life, Gracie girl.”
“And he invited you to see his concert?”
“Me annnnnd my friends,” You corrected, waving the paper with a cell number in her face. She shooed it away with a laugh, and then sighed.
“Alright, why don't you sleep over at our house tonight. Most of the girls are staying anyways,” She sent a gesture to the group you came with. Some of your friends were hanging off of each other, the clearly sober ones were doing their best to catch them.
“A slumber party?!” You clapped your hands and she grinned.
“Absolutely.”
You cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “Drinkin games!”
You marched towards your group and Gracie tailed close behind, shaking her head.
You did play drinking games when you got there, only your drinks were all water. But you passed out before you could even make that connection.