Chapter Text
Neon lights stream through darkness. Music pounds against the walls. Electronic synths and grinding drums clatter in a cacophony. Witchy cackling and spooky vibrations interpose, fitting the abode’s decor of a haunted house turned party house filled with ghouls and ghosts intent on carousing until the first sliver of sunlight.
From her spot on the couch, legs neatly crossed, Elka sips from her red Solo cup. She still doesn’t know why she agreed to the outfit clinging to her body. Plastic bolts extend from her neck, courtesy of a skin-tone choker gifted by Kitty. Her white, satin, ankle-length dress drapes around her tall frame like a loose shawl. With her coiffed, dark hair striped with white streaks like curved lightning, the atypical bride swallows her liquor with a sigh, noting the sugary aftertaste.
Chatter and chords collide. All around her, as she waits for Kitty and Franke, people are dressed to the nines. Devils in scarlet bodysuits and plastic pitchforks, werewolf vixens in corsets and furry tails, and witches in black silk galore, they flit through cobwebbed halls with either pixie-like flourish or drunken stumbles. Elka watches them swiping candies from pumpkin bags scattered throughout the living room, or dancing too close for comfort, their body heat so pungent that she can feel it.
Just when thinks she’s had enough, forewarned by the dull ache brewing between her temples, an arm loops around her shoulder. Legs fling over the couch, splashes of brown and black accentuated by pops of garishly bright hues flutter as Kitty lands in the seat next to her. She levitates a handful of gummies, which, oddly enough, glow like psitanium.
“Elka, baby, so sorry for that wait,” she exclaims, smiling toothily, only to snicker. “Oops, I mean, my bad, Bride of Frankenstein.”
Elka rolls her eyes. She glances at Kitty up and down, remarking, “How long does it take to fix your make-up?”
“Franke got distracted. There was a nice set of legs by the stairs,” Kitty quickly props hers up on the coffee table, nudging aside leftover cups of beer. Her designer leather boots go well with her bedazzled, twine coat and lopsided top hat. “Mine are better, obviously, but hey, Franke has good taste.”
Elka observes how she casually pops in a gummy. Unlike the mad scientist she was meant to emulate, Kitty was a natural free spirit, untethered by opinions. She guessed Kitty was mad in other regards, and Elka felt the corner of her lip curl.
“You know, I don’t think Victor Frankestein was meant to wear any of that. Don’t you think the top hat is a bit much?”
“No way because this is hot Dr. Frankenstein.”
“You still look nothing like the guy. Quentin and Clem thought you were just-” She grins. “-Victorian.”
Kitty scoffs, waving dismissively. “I wasn’t going to dress like any boring scientist, or throw on some lame cloak, and call it a night. Otherwise, I’d look like that creep who stole our brains.” She shifts closer to Elka, setting her hand on her thigh, and arches a neat brow. “Remember him? Shower cap guy I never got to sue? I wonder where the hell he ended up. Maybe a catacomb somewhere or…”
Kitty trails off, Her long, slightly pointed nails are painted as crimson as blood, and they tease the fabric of Elka’s dress. She leans in, her face shimmery and golden. The deep magenta of her irises are intoxicating, similar to the glow of the gummies.
Elka’s breath holds in her chest. Kitty is holding tight, her gaze unblinking. She always finds a way to surprise her. Mundane settings or scenarios where intimacy flies free, there’s never a dull moment around Kitty Bubai.
Kitty’s plum lips twist in a smirk as she offers, “Gummy? They’re strawberry flavored with a tasteful smidgen of THC.”
Holding her ground, pretending the faintly redder hue on her cheeks are uneven splotches of her rouge, Elka snorts. “It’s as if you can never ask a question like a normal person.”
She laughs, high and airy. Kitty lugs a leg off the table and over Elka’s shins, hitching herself forward. Elka breathes in the sweet, marshmallowy scent of Chanel No. 5. “Aw, what? Did you want a trick instead of a treat?” Kitty whispers, and she pinches the gummy between her teeth.
She leans forward, and sugar dusts against Elka’s thin mouth. Kitty presses their lips together, and the party melts from Elka’s peripheral. The gummy slips from Kity to Elka, who stiffens at the tart flavor and the coolness of Kitty’s breath. She knows that when Kitty parts, there will be a purple splotch across her ebony lips, and involuntarily, her molars grind down on the gummy.
Kitty moves back with a giggle. Hints of jet black dot the edges of her mouth. “Guess that was more of a trick, too, huh?”
Before Elka can retort, strong arms painted pale green swing over both of their shoulders. Their Frankenstein has finally arrived. Franke wears the ripped, patched long coat with style, adding an extra baggy layer to her sturdy frame. With matching bolts in her neck, also wearing a choker gifted by Kitty, she grins from ear to ear, the smudged stitches over her mouth lifting.
“So, hey, can I get in on that?” she asks loosely, leaning so far into the couch that she may as well just fall over. She winks at Elka. “I can’t have my bride have all the fun, yeah?”
Kitty wastes no time repeating it with Franke. Elka watches as they kiss, Franke’s head away from her, and Kitty is in full view. Her eyes are still open, clearly enjoying herself, and like Franke before her, she shoots Elka a wink.
Elka snakes her hand behind her hot neck. Yet, she smiles, fondness blossoming in her chest like the spark of life that had awoken both the bride and monster. She leans into Franke’s back, draping her arms around her torso, and she heaves a sigh, relishing in a party that has long bubbled away like a tonic in a cauldron.