Chapter Text
Penelope Park was flipping through the mail and threw the bills in one pile, trash in another.
It’d been a few days since she’d grabbed it out of the box. Tonight she only did it because she’d had an overly busy day at the studio and her body was still buzzing which meant she wouldn’t get any sleep.
Not that she slept all that often. She spent twelve-hour days in the studio - she got up early and went to bed past midnight. Some nights she’d rather just have coffee than go to bed.
She contemplated it as she skimmed through a magazine with a picture of her on the front. Looking at her phone to see missed calls from Lizzie, Maya, and jade she didn’t have the energy to hear everyone’s disappointment.
The shot came from a photoshoot taken for her latest album, College Days. She was wearing an oversized forest green sweatshirt - one of her old Salvatore University sweatshirts. The shot made it look like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath and her makeup had been sexily messed up in a morning-after-with-a-hangover sort of way.
The magazine headline read Penelope Park takes the runner-up spot in our poll of most promiscuous artists! Runner up to expected top artist: Taylor Swift. Penelope rolled her eyes and skimmed to the page about her. It went on to describe her music and why fans picked her in the poll: Penelope Park, better known as DJ incendio and world-renown Park Studio Music Producer, has been polled by fans as our runner-up for most promiscuous artists!
The award-winning artist has always been cagey about whether or not she’s in a relationship. When asked to put a reason to their pick, fans stated the mystery lovers in her various songs over the years. The artist often describes seemingly different people in her lyrics. One more thing she and Taylor seem to share in common traits! The two artists are both rumored to be bisexual, but we should note there’s no proof of such allegations.
Penelope shook her head and closed the magazine. It was an honor to be considered in the same tabloid as Taylor Swift, she supposed, but the article itself was abundantly absurd. For one, it only looked at female artists and that just showed the sexism of the music industry.
She tossed it in the pile of trash and moved on with the mail. The handwritten envelope stood out amongst everything else and more than that, the nickname spelling of her name on it made her heart skip a beat.
“pen?” Josie Saltzman’s voice echoed through the hotel room. A very naked Josie, with her legs entangled with one Hope Mikaelson - whom josie had been in a five-year-long relationship with.
“Maybe she went for breakfast?” Hope mumbled, still groggy from the early morning. Penelope flinched from the doorway. She’d already dressed, already packed her bag, already prepared to walk out of the hotel room without any intention of returning.
She’d almost made it out of the door without waking up either of her best friends. Her best friend’s who’d she gotten drunk with the night before - who she’d woken up in bed next to - who were dating each other, not her. All she had to do was close the door without making any noise…
“I don’t think so, Hope. Come on, get up. We need to find her.” Penelope heard Josie stumble around as she tried to get up and get dressed while hungover. Penelope turned the doorknob and shut it as slowly and quietly as she could. She took a deep breath and ran down to the corner of the hall. She hid when she saw the door of Josie and Hope’s room open again. She watched Josie walk out in just the hotel white robe and look in one direction than the other.
Penelope’s stomach dropped. The worried look in Josie’s eyes hallowed Penelope’s lungs out. Her messy hair was so beautiful. Then Hope was right behind her in her own white robe after taking the extra second to put her auburn hair up in a bun. Just as beautiful. The two were drop dead gorgeous and it made Penelope curse herself. She’d made it so long. She’d made it years without ruining everything between her best friends.
“Come on, baby. Let’s get dressed. She can’t have gotten far.” Penelope wished the night before was a blackout night. She wished Josie’s jojo juice had destroyed her memory - wished she couldn’t remember a second of the night after they celebrated the last night of the college at the Salvatore university As they celebrated Penelope’s big break in the music industry.
But it was no blackout. The night was burned into her memory and it’d stay there forever. Nothing had ever felt so right and so wrong at the same time. She’d memorized everything like it was the last night she’d ever have with them. Now, after, Penelope knew it was the last night. She couldn’t ruin them.
A wedding invitation. A wedding invitation to cordially invite Penelope to the engagement celebration and wedding of one Ms. Josie Saltzman and Ms. Hope Mikaelson. A beautifully written, floral message to invite her back to New Orleans - across the country from her penthouse in Los Angeles. It was a call to action to the events they planned over the course of a month leading up to their wedding.
Guests were invited to attend any and all events planned leading up to and or the ceremony itself. It was soon too. It seemed that the invitation had first been sent to the wrong address, an old address of Penelope’s , then corrected on the envelope. Penelope stared at the invitation for far too long. She wouldn’t go. She couldn’t. Then there was the back of the invitation. Handwritten:
Pen, please.
There was a warm feeling at the bridge of Penelope’s nose and she knew what was coming. She rushed to the kitchen and rolled out paper towels. She stood over the sink as her nose bled into the paper towels. She held the bridge of her nose the way she was taught to and sighed. It’d been a year since she’d seen Josie , Hope, and most of the super squad.
A year and a half since she’d been diagnosed with Leukemia. She’d told no one. She couldn’t and wouldn’t make anyone suffer from the news. She’d done that with her mother. She’d never do that to anyone. She took a deep breath as her nose continued to gush and she grew impatient. She cleaned up the mess once she made sure it was over. She couldn’t go to this wedding.