A House Made For Two

Was It the Alcohol...Or Was It You?

"Oh my god, this is our tenth round, just how bad are you at UNO?!" Jack exclaimed, referring to how a single game only lasted about two minutes.

Leena became a bright crimson, and flung her cards down at her loss. "I've never played!"

"Neither have I! Well, since seventh grade."

"See!" she pointed out. "You have more experience than me, so of course you're gonna win!"

"It's not that hard!" he protested. "Unless you want to go back to twister."

"Oh god, no." she retched. The amount of embarrassment they had experienced wasn't even funny, Jack's butt accidentally ending up near Leena's face on way more than one occasion.

"Then let's keep playing."

Cans of soft drink and beer littered the floor, some un-opened, some empty. Packets of chips and two boxes of half-eaten pizza lay waiting on the glass table, where the two could easily reach from their game. Playing cards and eating unhealthily to their heart's content was their agreed way of spending Christmas Eve together, as neither of them really had anyone else to spend it with. But Leena had been smiling almost the whole time, unknown to her, so Jack figured it was worth it.

"Wow," Leena half-giggled after slamming her can onto the table. "Maybe I should've stuck with Fanta and Coke."

He scoffed. "Oh please, when's the last time you even touched beer?"

She pondered on it, tilting her head to the side. "...A while?"

"Exactly." They took this as an opportunity to take a break, them both hoisting themselves from the floor onto the couch.

"Hey," Leena complained. "Why do you get to sit in front of the radiator?"

"'Coz I'm cold." he stated, bringing his hands up to hover closer to the said heater.

"Shove over, then." She then stood up and trotted right up to Jack, letting herself fall next to him on the sofa with a small 'oomph!'. He could feel the heat of her body through their winter clothes, and he relished the extra warmth.

"I wish Ruby were here," she said wishfully. "She's so warm, as cats are. Like a winter heater."

Jack huffed. "I'm glad she's not. I don't need any scratches from her as my Christmas gift."

"I bet Monica's feeling lonely without her, though."

"Who's that?"

"My pet rock." Though this time, he could see the ends of her lips curl up marginally - and then he finally knew, after almost a whole year...that this 'pet rock' she always mentioned didn't exist.

After a while, Jack noticed Leena kept fidgeting - either playing with the end strands of her hair or twiddling around with her fingertips.

"Hey," she began slowly. "If I started complaining about my life, would you listen?"

"Be my guest." he shrugged.

"Well..." she trailed off. "Just so you know, I'm not telling you this because I'm drunk."

"Such a lightweight." he mused.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not. And this is a big deal to me, but I'm putting my trust in you that you'll listen, okay?"

"Okay."

She took a deep breath, crossing her arms.

"I guess it's obvious how I never really think much about what others think of me. I mean, what people think of me is different to how I think about myself, which is what really matters in the end, right? So when people came and asked me out on a date," Jack's head slightly turned up at that, unnoticeable to Leena. "I just said yes. I didn't really understand the whole 'feelings' concept that came with it - that is, until the very first person I went out with said 'I love you'."

She clenched her fists. "I got scared. I was so scared, because I didn't know what they meant and I didn't get how much meaning was in those words, and I- and I..." Her voice turned into a whisper. "I realised I didn't know how to love."

"I quickly researched the concept, and I found out it was basically when you cared for someone more than yourself. You would die for them. But because I was always so self-centred...this 'love' seemed unreachable. So many failures in love followed; profound amounts of people have told me they loved me, and that they wanted to be with me, but...I could never even think of dying for them."

"I still don't understand - why would you die for someone if it means your own life will end? But that just makes it scarier. I- I can't fall in love no matter how hard I try, and it scares me so much because it's- it's like I'm not human, like I don't have feelings, like I..."

Her next few words were barely audible. "...like I'm not really alive."

"But you are alive." Jack said firmly, taking her hand into his. "You can feel me, right? And I can touch you. That's because you're alive. And so many people in the world are grateful for that."

"Like who?" she argued. "My family lives overseas. They didn't want me, so they dumped me here to live with my grandparents, and the café can easily hire someone else. Owen would be good for the maitre d position! And my so called 'friends' barely even remember my existence."

"Your audience, Leena! You're famous, remember? I can't paint nearly as well as you can play cello. And loving someone isn't the most important thing in the world, you know. It's loving yourself."

Jack sighed. "I know it may seem like I have lot of friends, but I really don't, you know."

"Huh?"

"Think about it - have you seen me with any friends besides Helen?"

"Not...not really."

"That's because people always told me I was a workaholic. I don't think I am, but when I kinda think about it, I don't really leave the house except for work, either. They complained I spent too much time either painting or teaching children, and that I never had time for them. Which is true, I guess; they eventually ended up forgetting about me."

"I was pretty much by myself most of the time in my apartment, sketching and painting until I forgot the world around me, which was nice...until I got kicked out. Did you know how weird it was when I moved in with you?"

He chuckled slightly at the thought. "It was like huge splatter of yellow on a red canvas that I could never get rid of. But eventually, I came to like the picture. In fact, I might even consider it one of my masterpieces."

She felt herself becoming drowsy, his voice somehow lullabying her to sleep. Unconsciously, she began to lean her body on his, her head slowly coming to a rest on his shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?" she muttered.

He glanced at the girl, who let out a small yawn, and smiled amusedly. Her ink-black hair was fanned out across his shoulder, and her eyes were gradually turning from half-lidded to fully closed. She really did look like a porcelain doll, he thought, lightly tracing his hand against her pale white cheek. "Nothing." he whispered. "Nothing at all."

But she was already asleep.