"I need a fucking drink..." I mutter, jumping a little as I hear my sweet and squeaky voice contrast with my dark and brooding body. I pout as I think back to my apartment, the vague memory of an out-of-date bottle of wine being all the liquor that I had on hand.
Slumping over, keeping my profile low as I hit the street, I try to work out where to go as I take stock of my new form. With a deep breath, straightening my back as I find myself looking up to meet most passersby in the eye, I decide on a course of action as I head to my Goth Neighbor Gracie's apartment in search of booze.
The walk back towards my apartment is downright exhausting. The morning sun quickly heats up the soggy clothing draping from my slender and heavily diminished form, the already disgustingly moist outfits soon growing overly humid as I begin to pour with sweat.
Before long my hair begins to cling to my face, the beads of sweat clinging to the dyed electric blue strands as I try my best to blow it away with my hot and huffing breathes.
My shortened stride makes the walk frustrating long, the distance I find myself traveling with each step causing my mind to reel dramatically. My shoes slip from my tiny petite feet, my jeans dragging and catching the rough pavement with each and every step, and the streets seem almost never ending.
"Fucking..." I groan, slipping between the towering figures that now line the street. Jostling for a good position at the traffic light I can't help but constantly grumble under my breath, the ease at which I slip through the ground thanks to my tiny size easily being overwhelmed by how easily people accidentally send my weak pathetic form stumbling with even the slightest push.
Despite all this, my mind remains fixated on my goal. My mouth waters at the thought of getting my hands on some liquor, the ideation of searing burn running down my throat leaving me trembling with excitement. However, the more I find myself thinking about my prize, of crashing Gracie's house in search of a stiff drink, the more I find my mind drifting to other vices too.
"Shit..." I grumble, rounding the corner and seeing just how far I had left to get to my apartment building. Despite having walked for longer than it had taken me to get to the clinic in the morning, I was still at least a few blocks away. "After getting fucked so hard with this" I grumble, looking down at my positively tiny body "I'm going to need a fucking smoke."
By the time I reach the front door I'm positively dripping with sweat, the scent emanating from my body oddly different than the 'gamer guy' body odor I was expecting. My nostril flare a little as I heave at the heavy metal frame of the glass door, inhaling deeply as I throw my limited body weight into tugging at the handle.
"Gross..." I whimper, straining to pull the door open. "This... I'm... this is..." I grunt between breathes, my sentence cutting itself short as I slip in through a small gap in the door. Looking up at the inside hinge I glare at the built up rust, taking the lack of maintenance personally after what it had put me through.
For a second I consider repairing it, my mind turning to an old can of WD 40 in my kitchen drawer. However, the reality of the situation sinks in as I'm forced to reckon with the fact I'd never be able to reach the top of the door without a step ladder at this point.
Sighing deeply I undo the top few buttons of my plaid shirt, grabbing the opening to shake it in the hope of venting some of the humid sweaty heat trapped within. Panting from the heat and the walk I slowly begin to trudge up the stairs, my legs practically shaking as I reach the landing for my apartment. I consider giving up, the thought of going back to my apartment to simply shower and nap clawing at my mind. However, with a heavy slumping of my shoulders I begin to walk up to the next landing, mentally keeping track of where Gracie's apartment would be based on my own.
By the time I reach Gracie's floor I'm completely out of breath. I hunch over, bracing myself against my knees as I try to recover from the walk and the climb. My mind races at how this had effected me, how I had paid to become this unfit.
I open my mouth to speak, to swear and to grumble at my situation. However, I only end up licking at my lips as I spy the door to my upstairs neighbor's apartment. My focus quickly shifts once more, a surge of energy rushing forth as I slowly shuffle my way over to the apartment and rapidly knock at the door.
For a moment I wonder if she's home, my thoughts turning to when I had heard her stomping and stampeding around her apartment over the past few weeks. Despite being lost in thought I continue to drum infuriatingly at the door, my petite hand soon swinging at the air as the door is quickly pulled open from the inside.
"Um..." mutters the young goth woman in the doorway, her freshly laundered white blouse only partially buttoned as it reveals part of her bare chest along with the pale blue bra beneath. "Can I help... you?"
Looking up at her I cringe, the fact I needed to look up at the twenty-something-year-old barista who served me coffee only yesterday sending chills down my spine.
"Yeah..." I squeak, ducking under her arm as I walk into her apartment without even asking. "I need a drink, and I know you've got..." I mutter, my eyes immediately locking to the cheap shelf bolted to the left wall of the living room that is practically overflowing with half-empty liquor bottles.
"Hey!" Gracie cries, spinning around to watch me as I quickly rush over to the makeshift bar. Her heavy leather boots stamp against the floorboards, the sound of which causing me to shudder as I realize just what has been waking me up the past few mornings.
I'm forced to stretch to reach the bar, standing on my toes to snatch the closest bottle of rum from the shelf. With no small amount of haste I pop the cork top out, bringing the bottle to my lips as I take a full and heavy swig of the amber liquid within.
In that moment all is right, the burn filling my mouth sending a rush of endorphins through me despite my youthful body despising the stinging sensation overtaking it. With a deep glug I swallow down the mouthful, the burn soon tumbling down into my empty stomach as the pleasure is soon forced to combat a powerful sense of nausea.
As Gracie takes a step towards me, frustration and anger causing her pierced lips and nose to curl up, I pop the bottle from my mouth with a deep and satisfied sigh.
"Hey! Let me have this and I'll consider us even for the time I didn't tell Mrs. Smith when you flooded your apartment!" I call out, taking another quick sip for courage. "If you have any cigarettes I can have I'll call us even for that time I lied to Daniel for you about that tip from... fuck what was his name..."
"Joseph Maxwell..." Gracie chokes out, her confidant and aggressive stride slowing to delicate and shallow steps as she leans down to look at me. Her already pale face seems to lose more color, her eyes going wide as she glances over clothing that hangs from my frame. "Mr... Jordan?..."
I smirk a little at her remark, taking another sip from the rum as I look around the room for the first time.
The layout of the space was very similar to my own apartment, the space just being a little bit less well-utilized thanks to the bolted on shelves and hangers littering the walls thanks to a previous tenant or the landlord. The walls are light cream color, accented by various dark brown wooden skirting that matches the shelves on either wall.
Beneath the bar rests a stone fireplace, the back having been sealed with cement to turn the once functional object into a mere ornament. Inside the lip of the fireplace sits a bin liner, the bag acting as a makeshift trashcan containing various fast food and frozen meal containers.
Two couches sit at odd angles on the opposite wall, curving in slightly to invite conversation even if it make inefficient use of the space. The rough and heavily worn blue and red sofas are covered in small stains as well as a slinky red dress and a dark green apron that was all too familiar to me. Behind each couch sits a tall towering speaker, the expensive looking electronics sitting in stark comparison to the cheap furniture beside them.
The hardwood floor sadly lacks on rugs or carpet, a pout forming on my lips as I realize just why I had been hearing the goth trudge around up here so clearly. Some coffee mugs and red cups sit around the sofas, the odd set of black socks and pairs of shoes sitting in a mess on the floor.
"So this is why you're so noisy up here huh?" I grumble, my squeaky and high pitched voice doing little to convey my frustration.
Reaching up I grab another bottle, my knuckles going white as I cling to the neck of the surprisingly full glass with all my limited might. With my jeans smearing the floor with a trail of water I stagger my way over to the sofa, crashing into the blue on on the left with what little body weight I had as I spill some of the rum.
Rolling around I get comfy on the couch, my sweaty and exhausted body practically melting into the cushion as I spread my legs in a very un-ladylike fashion.
Gracie simply stares at me in shock, her jaw practically hitting the floor as she freezes up entirely at the sight of me. I can se the gears in her head simply break down, the image of her older downstairs neighbor and regular customer simply refusing to mesh with the tiny young woman crashing her apartment.
"Holy shit... holy shit holy shit..." she wheezes, racing off towards the kitchen before hanging a hard right and racing towards what I can only assume was her bedroom or the bathroom. The loud stomping of her boots become less annoying as they shift away and the liquor begins to take a hold, my anxiety and frustrations seeping away as I lounge in my neighbor's apartment.
"...oly shit holy shit holy..." Grace huffs as she soon races back into the living room, a set of clothes in one hand and her phone in the other. She quickly types out some message, sending it off as a sudden deluge of texts quickly come back in return. "What. The. Fuck?" she wheezes, placing the crisp white shirt and tartan skirt down beside me tentatively.
"Swap Clinic..." I mutter, blowing at my hair in an effort to get it unstuck from my forehead and out of my eyes without letting go of either of the bottles.
"You...You paid for... to be..." Gracie squeaks, struggling to understand the situation but trying her best.
"No... Yes?... Not exactly" I muse, my legs kicking around beneath me as I try to think through the sickening burn inside my belly. "I bought a bundle on half-price and..."
"Why the hell did you buy one of those..." Grace shouts in shock, cutting me off before I silence her in turn.
"Because..." I call back snarkily, trying my best to unscrew the cap of my freshly stolen vodka. "I guess... I needed a fresh start... the job search has been... fuck... fuck! Who made this..." I grumble, becoming distracted as I find myself incapable of getting the top off my second drink.
Gracie's expression quickly begins to shift from shock to confusion, judgment, before she simply just rubs the bridge of her nose in frustration. Her phone continues to buzz, the messages rolling in one after another, eventually splitting her attention.
"That's not a good reason to..." she sighs, her eyes darting between my slumped and overheated form and her phone. Her sentence falls short, the once deadened gears inside suddenly whirring to life as she looks me over.
"You used to work at a cafe right?" Gracie asks, cocking her pierced eyebrow as she walks over to me. Leaning down she unscrews the top of the vodka for me before suddenly snatching it away. I lurch up to grab the bottle, the towering goth easily holding it out of my reach.
"Hey, give that..." I whine, my voice sounding downright pathetic in part thanks to my cutesy and light tone.
"Can you wait tables? Serve coffee?" she asks, narrowing the question even more.
"I..." I blurt out, quickly drinking down the last few drops of rum as I glare up at Gracie. "Yeah, I used to be a waiter for like two years and I'm been using a proper group-handle based coffee machine for..."
"Great!" Gracie chirps, walking off towards the kitchen once more with the vodka in tow. This time however, she rummages around the kitchen before holding up a slightly coffee stained apron adorned with various streaks of coffee grounds. "Knew I threw this somewhere... kinda wish I'd washed..."
"What are you talking..." I call out to her, watching as she rounds the L-shaped countertop with liquor and apron in hand.
"You wanted a job?" she states, grinning down at me. "I need to find someone to fill Sarah's shift for the day and find a full-time replacement for Freddie." Gracie quickly throws the bundled apron into my lap, the thing seeming far larger than it should.
"Are you..." I mumble, my mouth hanging open in a stupefied manner.
"Offering you a deal? Yes" Gracie chimes in as she folds her arms, shaking the bottle of vodka slightly as though to entice me. "If you help fill the shift today I'll give you some old clothes I was planning on donating and this..." she states, shaking the vodka a little more vigorously. "It's not like you'll be buying anything like this looking like that.
"But..." I begin to pipe up, only to have Gracie hold up her hand to silence me.
"And if you do well enough I'm sure I can get Dan to hire you on full-time" she states with a soft chuckle, a smirk spreading across her pierced lips. "Maybe you did need that bundle to get a job after all."
"You... I... I can't just..." I stammer in a panic, feeling my sweat soaked body practically scream for rest rather than spending a full day on my feet. My gaze darts between the bottle, Gracie, the apron and the small bundle of clothes resting beside me on the couch, my mind racing at what was being offered.
"So..." Gracie asks, cutting through my stammering and stumbling half-formed sentences. "Do we have a deal?
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