A Party at the End of the World

They say that Emperor Nero fiddled while Rome burned. 'They' usually decline to mention that Nero had created one of the first formal firefighting organizations in the Western World just a few years earlier, which seems to you like pretty good effort from a coddled mother-murdering neckbeard, but the point is clear enough: when shit gets real, there's no time for faffing about. So your feelings of unease at spending the night before your possible slash probable **** by an actual evil witch at a high school party are almost certainly well founded.

Still, it is for a good reason. You need to go into tomorrow's fateful encounter with all the firepower you can muster, and Jenny seems confident that this party is going to be the best opportunity you'll get. She should be here, somewhere, doing whatever it is she plans on doing with the tiny vial of Mega Milk, but you haven't spotted her yet among the throngs of your happily laughing and chattering classmates. Instead of your usual ride, you arrived fashionably late with Leslie Dickinson, the coltish girl simultaneously as excited and nervous as you've ever seen her. "Oh God, do I look okay? I look okay, right? You'd tell me if I didn't, right?"

"Leslie, you look hot. Don't be so worried!" You spent a significant amount of time today prepping the anxious girl, helping pick out her outfit and schooling her on the various flirtation techniques she missed out on developing after her years of being toyed around with by Max. It seemed as good a way as any to take your mind off of the reckoning that's coming your way in a few short hours. "Just have fun tonight, okay?" The girl nods resolutely, fists clenched, only to yelp when you give her a little swat on the ass. You both laugh as she shoves you in playful reproach, and then she's vanished into the crowd.

And now here you are, just sort of standing around. Huh.

You hadn't really thought about it before, but you're realizing that not only is this maybe the last party you'll ever go to, but it's also in fact the first party you've ever been to. Yes yes, you know that New Ash has been to lots of parties, but that really doesn't mean all that much for you at the moment as you mill about trying not to look awkward. It's like, you know these people, but only in a weird sort of instinctual way. It actually make things even more vexing, honestly.

Like, over there, that blonde guy by the staircase in the letterman jacket. That's Quinn Foley, the back-up quarterback. You know that guy. Or wait, actually, he's probably just straight up the quarterback now that Jessie is a cheerleader. That...probably isn't so great for the team's prospects. Quinn's biggest role had previously been to help keep the players' overall GPA up as an offset for your famously schoolwork adverse cousin, but now he's expected to actually hold a football and get smashed by hulking linebackers? Yikes. That is definitely one less than optimal consequence of playing fast and loose with the fabric of reality.

Actually, who knows what other relationships at this very party have been fundamentally altered because of the shears you took to the timeline? What lives? You'd already accepted the fact that you were living in a world that knew more about you than you knew about it, but you're starting to realize how many times over you've compounded that issue. You don't think you've managed to ruin anyone's life or anything, but...yeah, it's still starting to make you dizzy. You need something to cling to, some stable rock upon which to anchor yourself, and when you spot Isabelle waving to you from the kitchen you don't need a second invitation.

Isabelle pulls you into an unoccupied corner of the kitchen, her voice low. "Hey, have you seen Jenny? Do you know what she's got planned?"

You shake your head. "No, I haven't. And I don't."

The girl sighs. "Great. So I guess we just wait around for an orgy to break out or something." You laugh at that, the corner's of Isabelle's mouth twitching into a smile. "You, um, look nice."

"Eh?" You glance down at yourself. You do look nice in your black halter neck sweater and leather jacket, though in all fairness you'd probably look great in a pickle barrel. "I was sort of trying to dress down. To give Leslie a chance to shine, you know? Want to see something funny, though?" Isabelle nods and you turn your back to her. You twist your head around, putting a secretive finger to your lips as you give your friend a wink, then slip the jacket from your shoulders to reveal that your sweater is deeply open-backed in the infamous virgin-killing style. "This was the best I could do."

Isabelle can only gulp at that, a bead of sweat running down the side of her pretty face as she tries to stammer out a response. "Um, yes, that really is..." She eventually gives up trying at all as she fumbles a flask from her own jacket pocket, quickly unscrewing the cap as she takes a deep swig.

You cock your head to one side questioningly as you turn back around, pulling your jacket up. "I didn't know you drank."

Your friend finishes her swallow, still flushing red but looking much more in control. "Oh, uh, I don't. Here,"--she offers the flask to you--"Give it a try."

With a genial shrug, you accept the proffered drink and give it a sniff. Ohh, so this is...? You take a quick sip and sure enough, it's that deliciously ambrosial flavor you've only come to know over the last few days. "This is from one of the girls?" Isabelle nods. "Which one?"

Isabelle shrugs, a playful look on her face. "Why don't you guess?"

You hum thoughtfully at that, taking a deeper sip. Of the Woo Girls, you've only had Ringlets before, and this definitely isn't her. The freckled beauty's milk was rich and thick, the sweetest of sweet cream, with notes of honey that came through even when sampling the drink around another girl's questing tongue. It's quite different from Jessie as well, for what it's worth; your cousin's particular vintage has a lightly sour tang to it that strikes you as something of an acquired taste. This offering is instead light and almost floral, deeply refreshing and invigorating. "It's definitely not Pixie Cut."

"Oh absolutely not; she tastes like a liquid candy bar."

"I don't think it's one of the twins, either."

"Correct; they almost taste like strawberry milk."

"Have you seriously tried all of them, Isabelle?"

The girl flushes, then sticks out her tongue. "Stop stalling and make your guess."

"Hm." You take another sip, swishing it around in your mouth. God, that's good. "I guess I would have to say...Buzz Cut?"

Isabelle gives a gasp of mock indignation at that, snatching the flask out of your hands. "What! How did you guess that? You had to have cheated!"

You grin at your friend, popping your fists to your hips and thrusting your chest out in victory. "It was simple! She may look like a punk princess, but she's such a little girlie-girl softie. She made us friendship bracelets. That tastes exactly like friendship bracelets would taste."

Isabelle squints an eye at you, then takes a swig and mulls it over. "Damn. You're right."

The two of you grin at each other for a moment, and then you feel your expression turning serious. "Hey, Isabelle. Can I ask you something?"

The girl's smile slips a little. "Oh, um, sure?"

You move beside her, turning around to lift yourself up and sit on the kitchen counter. "Do you...regret this?"

This doesn't seem to be what Isabelle expected you to say. "Do I what?"

"Do you regret, you know, this. Getting involved in all this magic stuff. Me getting you involved in it." You lean forward, your faces quite close to one another as you give Isabelle an earnest look. "Do you regret it?"

Isabelle studies your sincere features for a moment, then gives you a rueful smile. "Ash. There's a very real chance that we're going to die tomorrow. Of course I regret it."

You slump a little, turning your head away from your friend. "Oh. I mean, that makes sense. Obviously, yes. I really sort of threw you into the deep end with all this, didn't I."

The girl quickly speaks again, reaching out to lightly touch your shoulder. "I don't mean I regret all of it. So much of this has been...it's been amazing. It's been more than amazing. Close to perfect. Just...we have to be careful, okay?" She runs her fingers down your arm to take your hand, her chunky eyebrows knitted together. "We're in way over our heads here, and if tomorrow doesn't go exactly right then almost perfect won't have been worth it. We have to make sure it'll all be worth it, right?"

You nod, eyes a little red as you give Isabelle a slightly quavering smile. "So, you'd say you regret like sixty percent of it?"

Isabelle smiles back, reaching out to wipe your wet cheek with a thumb. "Maybe like fifty five."

The laugh comes unbidden from your chest as your smile widens, the two of you staring into each others eyes until Isabelle gasps and you straighten up in concern. "What? What is it?!"

"Didn't you say you were trying to set up Leslie and David?" You nod confusedly, and Isabelle points behind you. "Well take a look, love master!"

You twist around and delightedly gasp as well at the sight of Leslie and David curled around one another in a far corner of the living room, the pair oblivious to the party going on around them as they embrace in a deep, passionate kiss. "Oh wow, that's my student! Go Leslie!" You can't help grinning as Leslie breaks off the kiss, eyes heavily lidded as she starts to lead a dumbstruck David up the stairs. "Whoa, they really got things moving fast! That girl does not hesitate when there's something she wants, does she?"

Isabelle is silent for a moment as you hop off the counter and cheer the two on, your catcalls going unheard amidst the raucous party as they slip up to the second floor. After a moment, however, you feel a little tug on the sleeve of your jacket. "Um, Ashley?" You turn back around, eyebrows raised to ask Isabelle what she wants when you find your vision filled with her beautiful, flushing face, the girl's soft lips brushing your own in a gentle little kiss. You seize up in shock, heat and blood rushing up your neck to deluge your brain with signals of excited terror as Isabelle quickly pulls back, bright red and scared and beaming as she starts speaking to fill the momentary silence between you. "I just, I had to, I've wanted to for...I mean, I needed-"

She cuts off with a whimper as you slip forward to catch her lips with yours, the girl melting around you as your arms slip around her waist and hers gently come down to rest across your shoulders. For a long moment, all that there is is the feel of her, the taste of one another, the light flick of her tongue, the sweetness of her lips. When you finally pull apart, it's only for the sake of breath, but you can't help noticing that while Isabelle is still bright red and beaming she doesn't look scared anymore. "Still fifty five percent?"

Isabelle laughs, leaning back in for another kiss that she releases with a pleased gasp. "Maybe fifty percent now."

You can only grin back for a moment, then you have to furrow your brow slightly. "Should we...talk about this?"

Isabelle quickly shakes her head. "No, let's...no. We can talk about it after tomorrow, okay? If there is an after tomorrow, we'll talk about it then."

You nod at that. "Should we...go outside and make out some more?"

"Yes." Isabelle slips her hand into yours, the two of you sharing a giddy smile as you work your way through the crowded party, utterly blind to the questioning looks you're getting and completely deaf to the calls of your intrigued classmates. You are so lost in the feeling of Isabelle's fingers entwined with yours and the lingering tingle on your lips that once you've stepped out into the brisk night air, it takes Isabelle's gasp of shock for you to notice anything else at all. "Ash, look!"

You dazedly crane your head around to where she points into the air behind you, and have to gasp as well. There, high above the roof of David Wright's house, is the tiny vial you'd entrusted to Jenny. It shimmers like a miniature star plucked straight from the night sky, a cascading bifrost of shimmering rainbow enveloping everything in its quietly opulent glow. Pulses of stardust continually jump and cavort up the waterfall of magic, climbing towards the softly thrumming vial like fish returning home to spawn as the bottle of empowered milk is infused with all of the excitement and pleasure that the party inside is generating. You look around at the other scattered party-goers who've spilled outside, but not a single one of them spares even a glance for the miracle going on above their heads.

Isabelle's eyes are sparkling with the reflection of Jenny's magical fireworks as she quietly presses her side into yours. "I don't think anyone else can see this, Ash."

You nod, giving her hand a squeeze. "This is just for us, Isabelle."

The girl lets out a gasping laugh, the sparkle in her eyes not just from mirroring the lights as she gives an emotional sniff. "So, okay. I guess we can call it forty five percent."

What else is there to say? The two of you sink down to sit on the lawn, fully prepared to while away the rest of the evening watching the otherworldly light show, murmuring pleasant nothings to one another and indulging in each others lips. If anyone wants to claim you're fiddling while the world is burning down, they can fuck straight off. This is very possibly not only your last party, but your last night ever. If anyone has a better idea on how it should be spent, they can keep that shit to themselves.