If only ↠ h.s.

Prologue

My feet felt sore from walking in heels as I made my way to the place I visited when I was either worried or wasted. This time the latter was the reason.

Hoping for a meteorite fall or an alien abduction or simply a brain burst since the last few hours; one couldn't just be more wretched. I took another sip from the bottle of scotch in my hand, the intoxicating liquid burning my throat as I could hear the waves of the river splashing against the bank. My muscles eased themselves a bit more, mainly because of the amount of alcohol consumed and also, because of the calm weather. I had thought taking a drink would help, I never knew the drink taking me would be even better. Finally gaining my inhibitions after years.

The cold breeze swept over me again making me rub my free hand against my skin. It was cold and here I was in my T-shirt and jeans, trying to reevaluate my non-existent life with the help of alcohol. Very dead.

As I neared the bank, I tripped and almost fell. Cursing profanities, I kicked my heels off my feet and decided to carry them instead. Perfect, my hands were totally engaged in carrying a life saver in one, footwear in another; my hair being all over my face.

Trying to inhale all the sweet fragnances that the wind brought with it, I closed my eyes and took a sip in. The burning stir further soothed my senses. I could smell flowers and more of different wines which seemed quite impossible here at a place distant from any kind of existence and mainly for sick souls. "Aliens" I said to myself both excited and annoyed at the same time.

I looked as far as I could. Nothing. I think it was just a blink and then I saw two clear flickering lights.

Stars? And then one of them ceased to glow. I decided to go in the direction of the stars or lights-that-looked-like-stars to discover the aliens at the place I was in.

As I approached the unknown existence, I discovered the stars were blown out candles on a round table covered with a satin cloth. There were two chairs covered in white and rose petals all over the table, chairs and some on the ground that were badly and intentionally stepped on. Expensive bottles of wine and whisky that were never opened except for one. It looked like someone had arranged a date which obviously couldn't go successful.

Then, I saw a figure. Someone was sittting on the bank of the river, back turned towards me and a bottle of what seemed like whisky on his side. He apparently was a boy because as I decided to make my way towards the bank, I saw a black coat lying on the ground with a rose pinned to the upper front pocket. He took a gulp in every minute or two from the bottle of liquor and kept murmuring something hardly audible to my ears. I carried myself up to where he was and sat next to him, gazing at the darkness that stood ahead.

Without any formal greetings a gentleman generally offers, he turned the other side, his back facing the bank now.

Weird, I hadn't even said a word.

Annoyed, I did the same and then he returned back to his former position.

I leaned a bit towards him so that I could whisper in his ears and almost decided to do a peekaboo but then thinking of the consequences I stopped myself from playing a fool.

Instead, I shouted in his ear, "What's your problem?" Idiot.

His head instantly snapped to my direction but I still couldn't make out his features properly other than his bloodshot eyes.

Might be the alcohol effect. I almost giggled at my joke (which wasn't even a joke) and then recovered.

I tried to adjust my vision and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't taken aback by the annoyed expression on his face or the way his teeth were gritted as he looked at me as if I was the reason behind what had come to pass.

His head was covered by a mop of curly hair, totally messed up by running one's hands multiple times through it. Mostly, in frustration as I could guess in my totally screwed-up state.

I couldn't quite make out the color of his hair or eyes due to the darkness that surrounded us and I couldn't care less.

"What's yours?" The man next to me said in a hoarse voice, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"You are." I retorted, already pissed.

"Atleast, I don't stalk people or invade their personal space." He laughed sarcastically making my blood boil in my veins.

Turning my head to face the river, I cold-shouldered him. I couldn't let any stupid stranger ruin my mood any further.

Taking yet another sip of the intoxicating liquid in my hand, my morbid thoughts made their way back to me. Everything started coming back in flashes, but the worst part was that none of the memories were pleasant. That's the thing I hated about life, it doesn't matter whether you're drunk or sober everything keeps coming back to you, as much as you try to run from it, it just keeps coming back. Good moments make you want to drown into a pool of nostalgia and unpleasant moments would make you want to cry your heart out in order to lessen the pain.

Moments later, someone's voice interrupted my train of thoughts and I was grateful until I came to know who it was. The boy next to me murmured something, rather loudly, but I couldn't make out the words. I was so drunk.

Facing him, I eyed him coldly. He again murmured something to himself, eyes hungrily looking for something. Looking at him made me wonder what was actually wrong with this boy. What was the story behind him, behind all of this mess. He intrigued me.

"Let's make a deal." The alcohol was really getting to me.

The boy eyed me suspiciously before his lips curved to say something.

"What deal?" His eyebrows creased a bit as his voice bled into a strangely calm tone.

"You tell me your story behind all of this," I said pointing to the mess behind. "And you can ask me a question in return."

He sighed, eyes shut, teeth gritted; which made me reconsider the words that had escaped my mouth.

Minutes passed and the whole time, all I did was stare at his face. He must be around seventeen to nineteen years old if I wasn't mistaken. He was young, he was charming, he was messed up.

His lips parted to say something; eyes still shut as if reconsidering whether he should tell this to someone he isn't familiar with.

Opening his eyes, he gazed at me for sometime, eyes boring into mine. And in that moment, I felt that we have a connection, not the connection you particularly share with your loved ones but a connection you feel deep inside with you see someone, be it a mere stranger. It was like we were caught in the same storm; holding onto everything that comes our way to stop ourselves from drowning deep into the sea of lies, memories, grief and everything that ruins. I could feel that inside and I don't know why. After what felt like a little eternity, he looked away; eyes fixed at something in distant.

"So here it goes." Breaking the eloquent silence that dawned upon us, he spoke in a voice, so low, as if the trees around could hear us, too.