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“I’m taking my break,” Sollux hollered over her shoulder into the late evening haze of the convenience store, already halfway out the back door. It was just her and Dave closing, the one coworker she grudgingly admitted to tolerating, and she knew he wouldn’t give her shit for it, especially not when there was all of one customer milling around in the aisles of over-processed junk food. She was bored out of her mind and desperate to get home so she could code until she passed out, but there was still another couple of hours until closing, a span of time that seemed roughly equivalent to eternity. If she was going to make it, it was by slacking as much as possible.
The air out in the back alleyway behind the store was brisk, sending a shiver down her spine, and she wrapped her hoodie a little tighter around herself, sucking in a sharp breath. Fuck, she hated cold weather. Spring and summer were far more pleasant, even if she normally squandered the warm, sunny weather by sitting inside in her air conditioned room anyway. The ever-darkening chill of autumn encroaching always felt like the slow progression of a funeral dirge, heralding the awful seasonal depression of winter.
If only she had a hot girl to press up against her and keep her warm, she thought, rolling her eyes at herself as she fished a lighter from her pocket and tapped a cigarette out of the pack. She much preferred vaping, but it was just so easy to steal cigarettes from work. In that light, improved by the little thrill of shoplifting, it was an alright hobby now and then. Something to break up a long shift.
Sollux took a long drag, only then glancing up from the glowing ember of warmth to look across the alleyway. Directly opposite the convenience store and its air of cheap misery was a towering brick building, impeccably maintained. Even from the back here, with a view of trash cans and ground floor service entrances, the place radiated intimidation. It was an impression that grew all the stronger if one went around front and saw the bold white letters announcing it as a ballet academy. Haven of rich, preppy girls who looked down their noses at the burnout selling them chewing gum and vitamin water.
She watched those girls, sometimes. Plenty of them slipped out into the alley to smoke between their lessons or whatever the hell they did in there, still clad in their leotards and skirts. It made sense, Sollux supposed. Nicotine was a good appetite suppressant. She herself was thinner than most of them, but there was a difference between dieting on threat of being cut from the program and her own pastime of starving for fun. Anyhow, the dancers would come out to smoke or to take a phone call away from prying eyes and ears. Sometimes for a quickie, with a boy or with each other. And from the back window of the convenience store, Sollux watched.
It was a habit as filthy as the taste of smoke on her tongue, and even she herself couldn’t articulate why she kept it up. Perhaps for the same reason as the smoking, a bit of pointless self-destruction in between the greater crests of mania. It wasn’t like she could even see anything usually, just the impression of figures moving against the wall, behind the dumpsters. She waved Dave away, not allowing him to obliviously stumble out into the alley and interrupt any of those trysts, but she herself kept watching, more detachedly interested than aroused. Like she was watching a documentary—this is the ballerina in her natural habitat, that sort of thing.
The girl who met her eyes was one she’d never seen before.
Like the others, she was in her practice clothes, but the long, dark trench coat she’d thrown on over them, such a deep violet it was almost black, gave her an entirely different vibe than Sollux was used to seeing coming out of that building. Her face was set in a vicious scowl, tendrils of dark, wavy hair falling out of her ponytail and framing that harsh expression. She glared across the alley at Sollux like she’d personally offended her, a look that only intensified when Sollux exhaled a lazy curl of smoke and took another drag. Just like that, she was hooked.
She stared into the stranger’s eyes, wishing she was close enough to make out what color they were past the thick frames of her glasses. Arms crossed stiffly across her chest, making her look more like a statue—a saint, a goddess—than a living being, she leaned against the brick wall of the academy and stared right back at Sollux. She didn’t pull out her phone or a smoke, didn’t seem to be waiting for anyone. She just stood there in the semi-darkness, illuminated by streetlights, and watched the ribbons of smoke float up toward the stars from Sollux’s lips.
She smirked around her cigarette, mockingly lurching a couple of steps forward. Still safely on her own side of the alley, but close enough to make out a few more details. The girl’s nails were the same near-black as her coat. She wore quite a lot of jewelry, most of it gold and amethyst, and she held herself not just like a spoiled rich girl, but something more than that. A princess surveying her throne room.
She recoiled at Sollux’s approach, then forced herself to stand up even straighter, as if that would compensate for the inch or two of height Sollux had on her.
“What the hell is gutter trash like you lookin’ at? Don’t you got a job to do?” She flicked her fingers outward, like swatting away a fly. Sollux took another half step closer, just to see her grimace. By then, she was close enough to see the slick sheen of lip gloss and the constellations of freckles, uncovered by foundation. Of course her skin was flawless. Sollux ground the butt of her cigarette into the damp asphalt with the toe of her sneaker.
“I’m on break, not that I’d expect you to understand,” she replied. “Someone like you’s clearly never had a job before. You’ve been looking at me too, princess.” The instant the word left her mouth, Sollux wanted to crawl down between the cracks in the asphalt and never come out. What the hell had she been thinking? Her only saving grace was that it had come out plenty scornful and sarcastic enough to sound like an insult rather than a statement on the way this ballerina should be immortalized in marble.
“Trust me, I’d rather not have my view marred by somethin’ so unsightly. Don’t they pay you enough in that dump to fix your hair and buy pants without holes in ‘em?” The girl—the goddess—sneered, and operating purely on reflex, Sollux reached up to run a hand through her hair, frowning. She thought the short, choppy bob she had looked good, with its two-toned colors and charmingly imperfect bangs. At least she suppressed the urge to glance down at her ripped jeans, opting instead to roll her eyes and take a half step back again.
“I was here first. Even I don’t hate myself enough to skip my break and go back to work just to avoid maybe making a stranger’s night slightly worse by having the nerve to,” she paused, interjecting a dramatic gasp that would have Dave applauding, “exist, holy shit. Get over yourself or go somewhere else to brood.”
“I was not brooding!” The stranger’s breathless indignance, cut by traffic noises and the distant voices of unseen pedestrians, knotted uncomfortably in Sollux’s chest. She wound the drawstrings of her hoodie around her fingers once, twice, thrice... On the fourth round of making her fingertips go white from cut-off circulation, eyes fixed on that glossy pink pout, she decided that her goddess wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any more information that evening. Dave would be looking for her soon, out of boredom rather than industriousness, and she didn’t want him to come out and see her with the girl.
“Whatever you say, princess. See ya.” She sketched a brief little wave, like the whole affair was something she’d already grown bored of, and went back into the store. It took all her self-control not to turn back and peek through the smeary windowpane.
It was a full week before she saw her again. Every shift, she slipped off to the back door as often as she could get away with, looking out into the alley in search of her one-time conversation partner, and every time, she was greeted with disappointment. Sollux had her share of chats with strangers, as much as she normally tried to avoid it. Sometimes hot girls. None of them lingered in her mind quite like this, making her wish she’d run into them again.
Dave was getting curious, she knew. His questions were growing increasingly indiscreet, prying for any scraps of gossip that might make the hours spill by faster. She dodged or ignored each one. This wasn’t like bitching about something one of her friends did to piss her off or bragging about trolling someone online. This, her cruel princess, was different. Every tiny fragment of information she had needed to be kept to herself, lest they dissolve into nothing. She didn’t even know her name.
Even on her days off, she took the short drive to the store and walked around back, passing the grimy dumpsters and litter to just pace in the alley for a few minutes, eyes fixed on the ballet school door. Plenty of other people saw her, ballet girls and random passersby alike, probably thinking she was a stalker or something, and to be entirely fair, that label might have become more accurate had she not finally been given a momentary glimmer of hope so soon after.
She was just about to head back in and finish her shift, neither in the mood to smoke nor to let the cold drizzle of rain seep any further into her clothes, when she heard the thud of a door closing behind her. Her fingers were already wrapped around the cold, wet metal of the door handle, but she dropped her hand and looked back, trying to be sneaky about it. Even with her hoodie pulled up, Sollux knew it was obvious where she was looking, and sure enough, cold eyes—dark blue, she thought, though she was too far to know for sure—bored right into her own.
“Well, well. Welcome back, princess,” she drawled, turning on her heel. Her old, scuffed-up Doc Martens crunched against a bit of loose gravel. Even that noise set her princess’ pretty face into a scowl, sending a little thrill through Sollux’s heart. It shivered in her chest, prompting her to offer a toothy grin in the hopes of faking some confidence.
“Welcome back? You fancy yourself the owner of this alley or somethin’? You are enough of a mess that you could pass for homeless.”
“Aw, worried about me, are you?” She wanted. Wanted so deeply it hurt, bone bruises and sliced organs. She wanted to push her against the damp bricks and kiss the scowl off her face, until that sticky pink lip gloss was smeared over both their mouths, mingling with the matte oxblood red she herself had put on that day. Sollux didn’t feel like smoking, but she dug the pack out of her hoodie pocket anyway, just for something to do.
“You wish, you overgrown pain in the ass.” Ah, Sollux thought. So she was sensitive about their height difference. “And quit fuckin’ callin’ me princess.”
“You don’t like it? Then maybe you should tell me your name.” She shook a cigarette out of the pack, then extended the open box in her direction as her other hand patted herself down for a lighter. Princess’ sharp, aquiline nose crinkled in distaste and she shook her head. She didn’t, however, make any attempt to move away now that Sollux had closed most of the distance between them.
“No. I don’t smoke and I don’t think I’ve got any interest in tellin’ you my name either. As if you’re even worthy of hearin’ it.”
She flicked the lighter on, trying to protect it from the rain. The little flame danced there, tempting her with irrational thoughts of sticking a finger into it. Instead, she just lit up her cigarette and shrugged. “Why do you come out here then, if you don’t smoke?”
“That’s none of your business either.” And again, Sollux thought that might prove to be the end of their interaction. The unfairness of that thought chafed at her. She’d spent a week desperate to learn more about her, to claw her way into, if not something more intimate, at least trading insults and provocations a little longer. Maybe getting close enough to touch. Could all those hopes really crumble after just a couple of minutes? Strip her of the chance to do anything more than hope for another whole week or more?
“Maybe you should tell me what is my business then, if you’re such an authority on it.” It was a pretty weak retort and she knew it, but being so close to Princess—God, that was actually starting to feel like her name—was making her head spin and her hands shaky, the glowing tip of her cigarette visibly wavering to and fro. She was in no state to come up with properly cutting jabs, and besides, she was wary of inadvertently going too far and pushing her further away. Carefully dodging a puddle so she wouldn’t splash her, she edged just close enough to let her shoulder bump against Princess’.
“Nothin’ about me is,” she replied with a prissy little sniff. For someone who didn’t smoke, she sure didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get upwind of Sollux, knocking her shoulder against her in return. It sent fireworks down her arm all the way to her fingertips. “But,” that husky voice continued, “if it’ll satisfy you, my so-called classmates aren’t worth bein’ around for a moment longer than necessary.” She tipped her head back against the wall, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat. Sollux followed it eagerly. How might it feel to sink her teeth in, to hear her cry out?
“You’re trying to hide from them. Don’t fit in with the ballet girls? Could’ve fooled me.” She took another slow drag, the inhale of smoke a poor substitute for Princess’ neck, and moments later was surprised by cold fingers overlapping her own. The partially smoked cigarette was plucked right out of her hands, and before Sollux could protest the theft, she was treated to the sight of soft, full lips overlapping her own reddish lipstick stain. Princess took a halting, inexperienced drag, and was sputtering and coughing already as she passed it back.
“You don’t know me at all,” she croaked, face flushed both from her brief coughing fit and, Sollux guessed, embarrassment. When she brought her lips back to the cigarette, she tasted pink vanilla lip gloss. If she had just a bit less shame, she might have licked it off the paper.
“Then teach me.”
She didn’t. They shared the rest of the smoke in silence, fingertips meeting again and again. Princess had already vanished back into the academy, sucking a mint, by the time Sollux realized she’d again failed to get her name.
She dreamed about her. She thought of her when she was warming up her cheap dinner in the microwave and when she tried in the mirror to get her eyeliner perfectly symmetrical. Princess was haunting her, draining her daily life of damn near anything that didn’t revolve around when they might see each other again, what she might learn. Her coding projects were languishing, never mind her studies—balancing college and a part time job was challenging enough for her without this sickening obsession. Sollux could hardly eat or sleep. It was all-consuming. A few times, she thought she felt a brush against her hand, so much like the feeling of Princess nabbing her cigarette. but there was nothing there.
Lost in a neurotic spiral one night, she had the local news site open to confirm her alley partner hadn’t suddenly died before remembering that she didn’t know her name to search the obituary section anyway.
Nothing so tragic had happened, as it turned out. She was being haunted by the living, every fantastical imagining conjured up by her own traitorous neurotransmitters. Given the slightest taste of dopamine from Princess’ harsh words and gentle touch, her already-fragile brain had been thrown into the worst disarray she’d felt in ages. Even checking the alleyway for her presence, which was on one hand the only matter she could think about all day, had become such a stressful affair that she needed to work up to it each time, hands shaking like mad even without a speck of nicotine in her system.
It only seemed fitting that the third time she saw her wasn’t in the alley at all.
Dave wasn’t working that day, leaving Sollux with a couple of total dumbasses who were, without fail, devoted to the job of making her insane. Their idiotic laughter, their loud voices and inability to talk about anything more stimulating than the latest football game, all of it left her wishing for a girl, any girl. Or, failing that, no customers so she could put her headphones on and drown out Dumb and Dumber. The day was looking like a loss on both counts, so when Sollux heard the front door swing open again, she didn’t even look up, too focused on stealthily playing a round of Tetris on her phone under the counter.
A few minutes later, there was a flash of movement in her peripheral vision and the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat in front of her.
“Excuse me? Are you gonna let me pay or not? What kinda place are you runnin’ here?” The familiar husky condescension had Sollux’s head jerking up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. A shock of electric pain radiated down her neck. It couldn’t be. But it was. Princess was standing right there. One hand was on her hip; the other delicately held out a bottle of coconut water and a little bag of pretzels, not yet setting them down on the counter.
“Do I look like the owner to you?” she fired back, knowing full well she was opening herself up to more insults. “I’m not running anything here.”
“That much is obvious.” Princess raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow from behind her glasses. Her eyes were a deep, dark blue, just as Sollux thought. The freckles smattered over her cheekbones were much easier to see in the convenience store glow than out in the alley. She set her items down with a soft clunk, pushing them in Sollux’s direction. “Now, can I buy this or do I gotta go elsewhere?”
“Uh, yeah.” The words that wanted to come out instead were I missed you. She stubbornly swallowed them down in favor of scanning Princess’ items.
“Not even gonna thank me for my patronage or nothin’, Sol?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. Sollux jolted as if she’d been shocked, only to glance down and remember she had a nametag on. Right. Princess was leaning in against the counter. Sollux could smell her perfume, something light and floral, elegant.
“You ask for a lot, don’t you? You want a bag?”
“No need.” Princess waved off the offer as she dug through her wallet, then held out her card in Sollux’s direction.
“Um, you can tap it yourself,” she said, already motioning to the reader when she realized that the credit card—printed with a sunset ocean scene—was extended to perfectly show off the name on it. Eridan Ampora. Oh. Mouth dry, Sollux took it despite the gesture seeming foolish in light of what she just said. Princess—Eridan—was silent while she ran it and passed it back, nudging the water and pretzels back in her direction.
“You’re all set... Eridan.” She tucked an errant piece of bleached blonde hair behind her ear. “I go on break in an hour.”
“See you then, Sol.” A smile ghosted across Eridan’s face as she turned away.