Nadia Dupont || Before

The week begins as many of them have recently, with violent vomiting. Pregnancy is out of the question—she hasn’t touched a dick since the awkward handjobs in primary school, and she isn’t fond of them besides—and she’s spent one too many mornings hunched over porcelain to blame her problems on an ill-cooked meal. A lesser person could attribute it to her frequent misuse of Serenity, but such opinions aren’t worth listening to.

Nadia’s stomach churns like an upset sea as she dares a glance at what she’s expelled. The liquid is as dark as mashed licorice candies, a maelstrom of ink. Staring at it makes her want to vomit again. Instead, she clings to the porcelain with leaden limbs.

If she’s being honest, there is no real cause to blame. This is part of the pattern she’s found herself in for months. Each day bleeds into the next, a rolling ball of agony. Between her inability to have a settled stomach and the creaking her joints make constantly, she can’t remember the last time she’s been well and truly healthy.

The medics really need to get their shit together.

She’s still hunched over when the front door closes. Through the haze building in her brain, she catches the sound and stiffens. The click of Etienne’s heels calm her once more.

“Nat, are you home?” As he speaks, she hears his jacket drop, buttons clacking against the wood.

As she opens her mouth to speak, a new wave of bile churns and threatens to spill. With a deep breath, she calls, “Yeah.”

The slap of his bare feet draws closer. Nadia reaches for the toilet lid, hands shaking, before reconsidering. Etienne has seen her in worse states before. He’s been in worse states before with her.

“Class is gonna star— oh.”

She doesn’t look behind her—not that she can, given her sudden lack of strength. Instead, she raises a trembling hand and flashes what she hopes is a wave before slumping back down.

“Too much Serenity last night?”

Another wave of bile curdles her stomach. “I would’ve preferred that.”

He drops down beside her, hand on her back. “You look like shit.” Then, reaching over her, he hits the lever. She shrinks back as the water swirls and gurgles. Bracing herself against the wall, she throws her head back and examines the flickering blue light of the lamps overhead.

“Is this…?” Etienne starts before falling silent. Then, after a beat, he finds his courage. “Are you sick again?”

Nadia folds her arms, wincing as her muscles tense. I’ve been sick and didn’t get better, she wants to say. Instead, with a resigned sigh, she says, “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to copy today’s notes? Have you stay home again? I can brew you some tea and get you settled.”

Nadia shakes her head. “No.” Then, wobbling all the while, she stands. Her stomach takes a hard dip and she again reconsiders. Still, as she meets Etienne’s widened eyes, she says, “I think I will be okay for now.” She hopes he can’t hear the undercurrent of doubt in her own words.

She flinches when she catches her face in the mirror. Thick black rings frame her sunken eyes. Greyness has sucked the vibrancy from her skin. Her soft, rounder stomach has deflated somewhat. Rubbing the dimpled skin as she thinks, she laments the changes to her body.

Etienne meets her gaze through the mirror. “You’re starting to worry me.”

A harsh laugh spills free before she can stop it. “I’ll be fine, Etienne. Nothing can hold me under for long.”

“Stubbornness will not sustain you forever.”

She continues her half-hearted preening, reaching without looking for the jars on the sink. With two fingers, she swipes soft powder under her eyes. Her reflection is more lively at once.

Nadia is working cream into her cheeks when Etienne draws closer and takes her wrist. “Nadia.”

She stills, cheeks tightening with unworked product.

“I’m serious,” he says.

“I’m serious, too.” With a snort, she shrugs Etienne off. “Soon enough, we will know what ails me.” And if I could, I would make them tell me faster. As she pinches her cheeks to redden them, she gives him a pointed stare. “Do not grab me like that again.”

His mouth opens, releasing a soft sigh and a fraction of a word before closing once more. “My apologies.” Then, collecting her jars into a neat pile, “We should get going.”

Nadia doesn’t remove her gaze from her reflection. Pink cheeks and a light dusting of color around her eyes has given her a life-like appearance. The shadows of her sickness still looms beneath the surface, but Etienne’s insistence tells her she doesn’t have enough time to clean up more. At last, she moves to the jars on the sink and replaces them one by one. What she’s accomplished will have to do.

#

She thinks their name is Simone, but it’s hard to remember with their fingers deep inside her.

They have her propped against a pillar, her favorite black skirt bunched around her hips. Their mouth burns against hers as they kiss, frantic and hungry. Nadia clenches around them. The vanilla and orange musk drifting from their skin sends the rational part of her brain scrambling.

For the first time in weeks, someone livens her in a way Serenity never can.

She’s known they wanted her from the moment they shared looks in the waiting line for the tram. While their professor of the day was droning on about historical sites in Vahn, Nadia had worked every subtlety she could think of into their brief glances to show her interest. Soft scratching of her neck. A coquettish smirk. Though her stomach is still a raging sea, the ache in her joints is dull today. She can afford to be adventurous. Besides, sex always beats out a lecture.

Nadia nibbles the stranger’s neck, a rare sensible thought coming to her. “If we get caught, we’re fucked.”

“Best hurry, then.” As they speak, the stranger’s fingers spread apart, rubbing her in a way that sends stars skittering across her vision. Head thrown back, she arches into them and moans again. It’s a shame this encounter is a one-off.

Their thumb circles her, decimating her capacity for lucid thought. Warmth pools in the base of her stomach. Then, as she approaches the precipice, their hand slows. “Do you know the history of this place?”

Their words slice sudden clarity through her. Tight around them, she feels the heat dissipating. “I…” She fights the urge to smash her mouth against theirs and help them coax her over the edge. “What?”

“Not the ground we’re standing on, obviously, but the place they’ve modeled it after. Latuka.”

“N-No, I can’t say I have.” With the slight roll of her hips, she bites back a whine. “Is this the best moment for—“

“It’s fascinating, really.” Just like that, they resume their pace, brown eyes twinkling. Nadia loses herself in the sudden swell of heat, so consumed she almost doesn’t catch their next words.

“It’s said this city was the homeplace of a famous historian a couple hundred years ago. Did you know that?”

Between soft moans, Nadia chokes out, “If I wanted a lecture, I’d have stayed back.” Still, even as she speaks, there is something about them that makes her heart skip. What kind of person talks like this during sex?

They hum, eyes narrowed and dark like overbrewed coffee. “But you’re here.” With quick flicks, the stranger has her dancing on the edge of orgasm. “With me. Getting fucked within an inch of your life. You should still learn something.

“It’s said that this historian went on an adventure which stopped the country of Vahn from plunging into war,” they continue. “Quite fascinating, don’t you think?”

She doesn’t have time to think of a rebuttal as, legs quaking, the world falls out beneath her. Nadia bites the stranger’s lip, hard enough to draw blood, to muffle the scream. They’re better than her hand or any toy she has half a mind to conjure, and for a heart-stopping second she fears she’ll be caught in this state of bliss forever.

As the hum in her ears starts to fade, she feels their hand withdraw.

“It was nice to meet you.” As gentle as possible, the stranger lowers her to the ground, arranging her skirts just so. They smooth back her hair. Light frames them from behind, reminiscent of a painting Nadia saw once, Dakota’s First Encounter with Maka.

Soft murmurs escape as she gazes up at them. She can only watch, dumbfounded, as they wipe their hand against their slacks.

“My name’s Simone, by the way. Not sure if I told you that.”

“Pleasure,” she replies before chuckling at the pun. “I’m Nadia.”

“I’ll see you around, Nadia.”

They’re gone before she can processs it, leaving her a heap of twitching limbs and shaking breaths.

Gods, it really is a shame she’ll never see them again.

#

“Let me be sure I understand,” Etienne says that evening as he passes the goblet on. “You eloped during a field trip?”

Beside him, Chantal laughs. “I’ve done that before,” she says, taking the goblet with the shake of her cloud-like hair. A soft, silken headband keeps her cluster of curls out of her face. Nadia watches her take a slow sip, grey liquid clinging to her lips, and hates herself for the twinge in her gut that makes her want to suck the liquid free.

“Same,” says Luc, taking the goblet next. “The thrill of it all is more than enough, I think, even if the sex itself is bad.” Then, mouth grey, they pass the cup along. Their grey eyes turn dark, pupils consuming the iris whole. They throw their head back and let out a low growl. “Fuck, that’s strong.”

Chantal’s smile is wicked, all teeth like a predator’s. “I have a contact in Elrick, up the Foxtrot. A hefty price for certain, but this is as pure as it gets.”

Nadia bows her head in the rare moment of silence that follows. A couple of months ago, Professor Duval had gone on an expedition to Elrick with some of their classmates, intent on exploring the once-holy site of Idune. Everyone, Professor Duval included, were killed. Whether it was monster attacks or the Elrish militia is still uncertain. All Nadia knows is now, it’s a bitch and a half to get mail to and from the country as a result.

The goblet continues its rotation when the moment has passed. “I can feel the universe,” Etienne says, quiet enough only Nadia hears. She gives his thigh a soft squeeze in response.

Her thoughts flick back to earlier in the afternoon and she clears them with a stiff shake of her head. What is she doing, pondering over someone she doesn’t know? This campus is one of the larger institutions in Mertaln. Chances are they’ll never see each other again.

Before she knows it, the goblet is back in her hands. She dares a look into its inky depths. This batch of Serenity is thick and sluggish, leaving a grey slime trail in its wake. She doesn’t have to sip it to know Luc is right. In small doses, Serenity floods its user with euphoria, but this seems the kind of dose capable of much, much more. It reminds her of her disjointed morning hunched over in the bathroom, though, and with that revelation, she hesitates.

“Don’t drink all of it, Nat,” Etienne says beside her. He reaches for the goblet with trembling hands, the veins in his eyes dark. She sees her reflection in his blown-out pupils. Is this what they all look like when they’re high? How has she not noticed before?

“S-sorry.” She passes it along without drinking, for once unnerved. As Etienne sinks deeper into the drug’s thrall, she gives the group another appraisal. Chantal is on her back now, tracing shapes into the ceiling. Sparks of magic dance off her gloved hands. Luc is curled around her, stroking her hair and purring.

On a normal day, she’s deep in the throes of ecstasy with them. It’s so strange, then, to be a sudden outsider.

“Nat.”

The words he’s spoken come from inside her skull now, another benefit to Serenity. And if they’re both high, they can share much more.

She looks at Etienne from the corner of her eye. “Hmm?”

“You didn’t drink.” He holds the goblet up in offering, leaning hard against her, and “I can’t drop alone.” Through the channel he’s burrowed into her brain, she feels traces of his apprehension.

“Everyone else is with you,” she says, eyeing the cup.

His fingers thread through hers, so chilled it makes the hairs on her neck prickle. His pulse beats through their joined fingers, slow but strong. He doesn’t need to speak, mentally or otherwise, to make the point known. I can’t without you.

She gives the goblet a sniff, stomach curling. Normally, she’s the first to drop in these blissed-out moments. When is the last time she was an outside observer? As she struggles to recall, she swipes at the dregs around the rim with her tongue. The room turns frigid in an instant.

Dropping into Serenity is like stepping into a blizzard, she thinks—one of her last lucid thoughts as the room spins away. She takes another sip as the room darkens before setting the goblet somewhere behind her.

Etienne’s presence brushes against her mind again, slow enough to catch this time. “Ready?”

Nadia blinks. The world is black, and then it is nothing at all.