Drunk Without Cause

Fifty.

There were times in his life where he found that no matter how long he studied something, absorbing the intricate details with pure fascination, hours world still pass and he wouldn't remember it at all. Sometimes he would even forget the act of observation in the first place.

That was a product of his past, and it would remain a scar that he would bear for the rest of his life, regardless of how much he wished that it would fade. But in the end, he would continue living despite it. Nessa was more than his faults. He was more than his trauma.

Because right then, he knew that he would not forget a single detail of what he saw.

His feet carried him down the long and wide corridor, passed the double-paned windows kissed at the corners by beautiful fractals of frost. In his arms was a small box wrapped in silver paper and adorned by a red bow. He was too excited to walk slowly, practically running as he enthusiastically made his way to his destination.

His grey sweater had white snowflakes decorating it, and he wore cozy pajama pants that were slightly too long for his legs. He made sure to pay close attention to his feet as he went, not wanting to trip and destroy the gift box before he even got a chance to give it to its respected owner. He wished that he had just remembered to grab it in the first place, because he felt like he was missing out on the universe by having to take a detour.

Finally, he found a large room awaiting his presence. He stopped abruptly as he stood in the doorway, eyes lighting up at the sight before him.

There was a gentle fireplace lit, casting its warm-orange light upon the faces that met his. They had decorated the room with a few strands of Christmas lights, but there was no tree to go with it. Nessa didn't mind, he thought that things were perfect just the way they were.

First, his eyes landed on the contagious smile of a boy sitting in someone else's lap on the floor. He had these ringlets that always seemed to trail his movements as though they knew that he was too good stand on the same ground as anyone or anything. His sweater was green, as always, but it had Christmas ornaments pictured on it like a tree. He was instantly greeting Nessa, overflowing with excitement. His name was Kiwi, and he was the only reason that Nessa even found himself within the rubble of his past.

Next, he saw the person who was waiting for him on the recliner. It wasn't a very big chair, but it was big enough for the both of them. That boy stood out from the rest in his own way. Maybe it was the absurdity of his baby blue eyes, or the way that his skin seemed more like a ghost's. Or perhaps it was the spirits in his eyes that he often hid behind his overgrown black hair, but whenever it parted just right, Nessa could still see them. They were always fighting to escape in the form of possible facial expressions. Nessa hoped that one day they would. That person was Venice. His boyfriend. His savior.

With the sound of a flirtatious tone, Nessa's gaze bounced back to the floor. That time, it wasn't the boy with the ringlets, but rather the one who held him in his lap. That one had dark curly hair and snow-white skin. He also had a smirk glued to his lips as though he owned the expression. Though normally he would have worn something provocative, it was exchanged for more normal Christmas attire — a red, slightly see-through, sweater and black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He was unlike anyone Nessa had ever met, and he was certain that he would never meet another person like him. His name was Ilya, and he had a subtle Russian accent to go perfectly with his name.

A girl was sat on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her. There was something different about her that caught his attention. It was the joy in her eyes that he rarely found. Not because she was always upset, but because she didn't like to show her true emotions. But in that moment, she was clearly anything but upset. Her hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, wearing a Nightmare Before Christmas sweater. Her silver pentagram choker contrasted the comfy clothing, but Nessa knew that it would have been more bizarre to see her without it. Emi, a name meaning beautiful. Emily, a name meaning rival. Both belonged to her, living beside her like a shadow.