you've seen your face like a heart attack (don't you mind, don't you mind?) {private}

vinyl's been sat at the fountain for a long time. the music's stopped playing, but it was so gradual she almost didn't notice until, suddenly, it was just her and the fountain trickling, and maybe the sound of a couple of demigods laughing and talking here and there. but it's mostly silent, and vinyl likes that. she can think.

her mask is still tied in the back of her hair. she's too lazy to take it off, even though the festivities are done. really, what difference does it make? nobody's gonna talk to her when she has it on, nobody will talk to her if she takes it off. really, it doesn't matter.

there's a tenseness in vinyl's spine that she tries to ignore, but it sits there like a weight between her shoulders. it's been there all night, tucked away with the slight panic of anyonecouldbehere and hecouldbehere and whatifheishere? it's nerve wracking, truly. it's supposed to be a night to enjoy yourself, and vinyl's been just about panicking.

she closes her eyes, tries to take a deep breath. the air won't fill her lungs right. it doesn't feel right. something's not right, and vinyl should probably know what it is before she catches sight of a familiar boy in the corner of her eye.

(not staring is the hardest thing she's ever done, but she can't let him know he got to her, she can't.)

the thing is, alexander won't stop staring at her, and, wow, isn't that just the most ironic thing ever? she tries to light a spark of rage in her chest, but it's drowned by this wave of -

well, vinyl doesn't know how to describe it. it's not misery, but, well. it's like she's given up.

she's done with this, done with yelling and throwing things and all of that. well, not entirely, but when it comes alexander? hades yes, she's done. so vinyl does the only thing she knows how to do in these situations:

"have you got a light?" she calls out to him, reaching into the pocket of her jeans to pull out her cigarettes.

"thanks," she says plainly, carefully standing up and walking over to where alexander is standing. her knees are not shaking. they are not. vinyl is cool, and in control, and she is handling this.

she takes the lighter from him (her hands are [i]not. shaking[i]), using it to light her cigarette before handing it back and taking a long drag. it doesn't do much too calm her down, and she thinks (not for the first time) that maybe she should stop, that maybe it isn't worth it.

"thanks," vinyl repeats awkwardly. gods, this is so awkward. this was a bad idea. vinyl should have just ran into her cabin and hid under her bed for the next fifty years.

"so, er," vinyl starts, running a hand through her hair. she pauses to take another drag before continuing, "it's...been a while."

vinyl laughs, but it's hollow, empty, kind of. "there was a year, where, like," she says, "gods, i don't even know, right?" she waves her cigarette through the air in a kind of wild gesture, as if that'll convey what she doesn't have the words to explain.

she laughs again, and it's then that vinyl realizes that she probably sounds insane, or something close to it. she tries to calm herself down and takes another drag. gods, at this rate she'll need to get another pack by tomorrow.

she wiggles her toes around in the grass, before blurting out, "i stopped wearing shoes, so, like. i guess that's important or something."

vinyl's cheeks bloomed red. gods, did she actually say that? are those actual words that actually came out of her mouth? thank gods it's night and the festivities have ended, otherwise vinyl's reputation would never survive this. she happens to like having people avoid her, thank you very much.

"i have no idea," she mumbles, twisting her free hand in the fabric of her t shirt. gods. this was a bad idea. she should have just gone back to her existence of getting in trouble.

vinyl has never experienced anything so mortifying. gods, she should be punching him in the face, not making civilized conversation. or, at least, as civilized as things get between them.

"yeah, i guess," she says. is her voice really that quiet? does she always sound that vulnerable? vinyl's hoping alexander chalks it up to something about being outside this late at night.

vinyl shrugs, because, really. why is she out here? she should be getting all nice and cozy in her bed, along with all of her other cabin mates. then again, they all snore. loudly. apparently nothing can wake the rest of hypnos' children, not even the sound of a million tiny lawnmowers or something. vinyl has been cursed to be the only daughter of hypnos who is a light sleeper, and she has suffered since arriving at camp.

"i didn't notice it was getting dark out," she says, dropping her cigarette and stamping it out on the ground. and then proceeding to use her now free hands to rub her arms in hopes of getting some warmth. spring in new york has always been hell, and, though she hates to admit it, vinyl almost misses the warmth of georgia.

vinyl shrugs, yet again, before responding, "sure, why not?"

she settles down on the grass, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. now would be a really good time to have a sweater. screw the whole logic of "the sun is up and the place is crowded, i'll be warm enough." it is definitely not warm enough now.

"so what are you doing out at a time like this? or are you the creep i should be afraid of?" she mirrors back at alexander, trying to keep that air of confidence and disinterest in her voice. gods, why does he have to affect her like this? they're done, and she's done with him. she's definitely not interested anymore, but she keeps noticing him, how the moonlight falls on his face, shadows playing out. he's still so attractive she can hardly breathe, and it's not fair. none of this is fair.

vinyl's silent for a bit. it's one of those things you just can't reply to, that you don't have the ability to form words wise enough to compare. damn alexander. damn him for being gentlemanly and giving vinyl his jacket, and damn him for being philosophical and deep, and damn him for making her so nervous to be around him (she won't say he gives her butterflies, she won't.)

"yeah, well," she says, "that's life, isn't it?" she leans back, resting on her forearms, and stares up at the stars. she still hasn't looked at alexander head-on, only allowing herself glances out of the corner of her eye. she is over him.

it's so odd, how just being around alexander makes vinyl want to curl up and rest her head on his shoulder like nothing ever happened. if you had asked vinyl yesterday what she thought of alexander, well. she would have had some very choice words, none of which would have been very nice. this isn't like her. sitting quietly with someone who screwed her over is not like vinyl, and she's partially worried that something's wrong with her.

the thing is, vinyl has so many things she wants to ask. there's so much she has to say, but, gods, how long has it been? it's been ages, really, and you can't ask these things after so long. some things have expiration dates, and these are some of the things that do. besides, they're all some variation or "why did you do it?" and "what did i do?" and vinyl figures it'd be pointless to ask.

well. trust alexander to just go right on out with it.

vinyl sighs and replies, "i dunno, probably me finding out that you cheated on me and you not doing anything to assure me i still mattered," and, oh, crap, that was not the response vinyl had in mind. she thought she'd reply with something more civilized, but, nope. apparently she'll go right out with it, too.