Chapter 1: No One Knows Who We Are
Sara's POV
"What the hell are we doing here?" I ask her, uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other as we wait in a line amidst a crowd of teenagers and twenty somethings outside of a rundown building in a seedy part of a town we're not even totally familiar with. I'm freezing—Tegan's advised that I leave my jacket at the hotel where we're spending the next few nights, though I'm currently wondering why I'd ever take her advice to begin with. She rang a cab just after ten, we arrived not much after ten thirty, and now it's practically been an hour and we're still standing in a line that seems to be at a bit of a standstill. I don't understand—raves had never been so openly advertised, and I wouldn't be terribly surprised if my sister's gotten some crowded wannabe club mixed up with the underground parties we used to duck into in Calgary back in the 90s. She seems to be ignoring my complaints with blatant disregard though, a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips as hands keep themselves warm in the back pockets of her jeans. "I swear to God, Tee…don't you think we're a bit old for all of this?" I try again, though when identically coloured eyes meet mine, that ignorant look of firmness shuts me up, though I don't keep from sassing her with an exasperated sigh. This is how it's been for the past fifteen plus years of our lives together—Tegan's always fixed on having the last word, even when she hasn't said a thing.
I take to observing the unfamiliar faces around us—teenagers with colourfully beaded handmade jewelry anywhere they can wear it with flashing pacifiers and gloves with colour changing lights in the fingertips. The scene truly had taken a strangely flashy turn for the worst, I think to myself. Or perhaps I'm just too old for this, which is exactly what I've told my twin. We're too old for this. "We should have just caught that Zedd show," I grumble, more to myself than anyone. "At least we could have had—"
Before I can even finish my sentence, Tegan's hand is clasped over my mouth, brows raised in slight frustration. "Stop complaining," she orders, hand moving to clap against my shoulder blade a few times before she nods towards the two girls in front of us. "Line's moving. Let's go."
Within fifteen minutes we're at the front of the line, handing over a twenty dollar cover before having the backs of our hands stamped with something that looks like a cloud in ink that isn't entirely visible to the eye unless held at a particular angle under a light or something that can capture the glistening. "I can't see it—"I try, but the shady looking bouncer has a hand on my shoulder and is shoving me through the door with a rude "get inside" before I can even express concern. Turning to Tegan as much as I can in a hallway not much wider than the span of my shoulders, I can't even keep myself from bitching. "If we just paid twenty dollars to get in and I can't see this shit, I'm going to be pissed." But she too is rushing me up the corridor, hands clasped onto my sides as she attempts to use me as a shield to barrel through the crowd.
Inside, once my momentary claustrophobia has let up, it's much bigger than I had initially guessed. Much more put together, too. Speakers that practically reach the ceiling are forcing the ground and walls around us to tremble with the heavy bass of electro music that's new to me, though far more pleasant than the terrible influx of dubstep that I've heard lately. Tegan's intent on scouting the place, for what I don't quite know, but within a moment's notice she's disappeared from my side, blending into a crowd of bodies pressed too close for comfort. Of fucking course she's disappeared.
Finding an empty spot against a nearby wall, I'm forced to lean back against it, arms folded tightly across my chest as I take in this new environment. Small things remind me of our days as teenagers at warehouse parties in Alberta, but the sounds and visuals of lights and projectors alone leave me feeling out of my comfort zone. I sigh and can't even contain my urge to dig my phone from my pocket to busy my senses with something familiar, scrolling through old text messages in hopes of receiving one that is new and that I can reply to.
Tegan's POV
Sara's such a buzz kill—I'll tell her time and time again throughout the night, I'm sure. So we're not 17 anymore, big fucking deal. I've lost myself in this crowd for only a moment or two now and already I've managed to point out a few slimy fuckers older than myself. There's something in particular that I'm looking for that shouldn't be difficult to find, and I know exactly who to look for. Someone not totally obvious, as that could be a cop attempting to reel in bait for reason to shut this entire operation down, but someone not terribly inconspicuous either. My searching eyes must seem hungry, because I'm tapped on the shoulder by a girl who can't be older than 21 sporting fairy wings and glittery makeup against her eyes. "Looking to roll?" she asks, and with a smug grin I nod, stepping closer so we're able to talk amongst ourselves without drawing attention to our conversation.
"What've you got?" I ask coolly, not wanting to seem overly eager. I know how this game works, and I'm not trying to end up being robbed blindly by some girl who thinks she's smarter. Removing a small bag from her pocket, she shows me circular green pills with two horizontal lines carved into them. "Green equals," she replies, pulling the baggie open and dumping a few into her palm. "The best we've got in the city right now."
I've heard of these—they've made their way from Canada actually, through Chicago and apparently down to Austin. Nothing but good reviews, and I can't keep myself from fishing a few bills from my wallet. "What do you want for four?"
She gives me a once over, as if attempting to size up my worth. What a little shit. Maybe Sara's right, maybe we are too old for this, but certainly don't look it. "I like your hair," she finally says, running nimble fingertips through the dark and disheveled curls atop my head. Grinning, she hands me four pills before deciding. "I'll give you four for 45. Usually it'd be 60, but I like you."
Thank fuck for that good 'ol Quin charm. I should have dragged Sara over—maybe this girl would have flipped over the idea of seeing double. I take the pills gratefully while handing over two folded twenties and a five before drawing her in for a hug, wondering if PLUR is still a thing around these parts. "Thanks a lot," I say into her ear before wandering off, back to where I left Sara. No surprise that she's still cooped up against that wall, busying herself with a phone I told her to leave at the hotel. "Dumbass doesn't listen."
Sara's POV
I've taken it upon myself to go buy a water bottle for Tegan and I—even though the weather outside has cooled to a brisk wind, in here it may as well have been the dead of humid summer, and I've rolled the sleeves of a button down I stole from Tegan up to the middle of my upper arms. Speak of the devil, my twin's managed to reemerge from the crowd, a stupid gummy smile spread across her face as she practically hops over. "Got something to lighten your buzz killing self right up, "she says, tossing something into her mouth before snatching the bottle out of my hands and washing whatever it was down her throat. Immediately, my inner alarm is going off and I'm ripping it right back, anxiety pinpricking across my skin like blazing coals.
"What the fuck did you just take?" I ask, though she simply shakes her head and opens her palm to reveal two lime green pills speckled with shades of deeper green. We may have been removed from the scene for a while, but I'm not stupid enough to be unaware of what she's holding and apparently offering up to me. "No," I say firmly, smacking her hand away and watching as she closes her fingers in to avoid dropping the pills onto the sticky floor.
"C'mon," she whines, stomping her feet like a small child throwing a tantrum. "I spent money on these!"
"That's your problem, not mine," I tell her, giving her a stern look before returning to scrolling aimlessly through messages in my phone. Tegan's gone silent, and after a moment I'm looking up at her again, her gummy smile turning upside down into a dumb pout.
"You said you feel old, let's do something stupid then," she says to me, as if making a stupid decision would make me feel younger.
"Right, because having a night on ecstasy is going to make me feel younger? It's going to drain the hell out of me and make me feel awful in the morning," I correct her almost immediately with an eye roll for extra effect. But she's not going to let up easily—she is Tegan, after all.
Tegan's POV
An hour's gone by and Jesus, when that little fairy girl said these were the best in the city, she meant it. I think I've lost Sara but I'm not at all nervous as I usually would be. Instead, I'm wandering through the mass of sweaty bodies too close for comfort but I can't bring myself to care. Each brush with unfamiliar skin against my own leaves me suppressing a groan of comfort, though luckily it isn't one of pleasure. No, I haven't reached that cloud yet, but I'm sure I'm close to it. I feel a hand on my shoulder and immediately pivot on my heels, finding myself face to face with my twin. There she is. I can't believe how happy I am to see her. Something's off about her though—it almost seems as if she's on the same level as I am, eyes dilated and vibrating within their sockets. "Why'd you lose me?" she whines, her voice dreamy as she throws her arms around my neck, squeezing me closer as she bounces on her feet to the rhythm of the music surrounding us.
"What…?" I ask, entirely confused as my hands find the small of her back to give her a reassuring pat. "Did you take something?"
"Fairy girl gave me whatever she gave you," she explains, her head buried in the crook of my neck as she continues to attempt dancing, though she can't do much more than bounce up and down lazily on the balls of her feet. She looks ridiculous, but then again, we likely both do. I can't help but make note of how incredibly arousing it feels to have her warm breath playing against the sensitive skin of my neck, her fingertips gently raking against the space between my shoulder blades. The DJ, if I can even call him that, has started up Body Work by Morgan Page of all songs, bringing Sara and I into an unbelievable fit of laughter at the irony. But her fingertips are now brushing through the razor cut hair at the back of my head and she's practically breathing the lyrics into my ear as we move against each other, my hold steady on her hips to keep us in time. "You do your body work, I feel my pulse working overtime…I get shy in these lights, I feel your body doing overtime. I get shy in these lights I feel my pulse doing overtime…" I've never been this close to Sara in my life, and quite honestly, I can feel myself worrying through the haze the drugs have left me in. Why does the sound of her voice in my ear sound so terribly teasing? Why are the curves of her body cozier than the feeling of my own bed after months of sleeping in a tour bus cot? Why am I pulling her closer each time she coos, and why are my hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt? And for fuck's sake, why is her skin like silk? Shut up, Tegan, you're rolling harder than you ever would have when you were a teenager. A stupid decision, remember?
Sara's POV
I can't even see straight. Why did I go after that girl with the fairy wings after Tegan disappeared into the crowd? Tegan's hair is softer than plush and I can't stop touching it. I can't stop touching her. But she's pulling me closer with each word that I sing in harmony with the recorded sound of our voices, and I can't lift my head from her shoulder—it's too heavy. Every inch of my body is heavy; I'm practically hanging on Tegan and depending on her to support my weight. But I can't keep myself steady—trust me, I'm trying. I'm drowning in an abyss of overwhelming emotion and sensations that I never knew existed. Tegan's fingertips are grazing the small of my back and somehow they managed to slip under my shirt without me noticing. Or maybe I did notice and I just don't care. Maybe I want this. I do want this. I want her closer.
I can't even keep myself from pressing kisses against the crook of her neck. I'm trying to rationalize with myself, but my mind isn't functioning properly. I'm capable of getting past the fact that she's my sister—in fact, I find myself drawn in even more than usual with the realization that we're so closely connected spiritually and so terribly identical physically that we may as well have been a strand of DNA unraveled to become to separate beings desperate to reconnect. I can feel myself becoming that strand, wrapping myself around Tegan as she pulls me closer and closer. I don't know if she realizes what's happening. Perhaps the drugs are affecting her differently. But before I can even process the situation at hand fully, my sister's lips are pressed against mine and her hands are holding my face so I can't pull away.
Needless to say, I can't resist the urge to give in and I'm kissing her back with every inch of desperation I've ever felt in my entire life.