Beware reader, this is no story.
At least not the one you have been looking for, because nothing happens here. Not really.
Or perhaps, something does. Perhaps this is just a run down of series of events that take place in this author's life. Event...
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"You sound like a book." Whispered the man, honey molten eyes heavy with the influence of the contents of now, the empty bottle of whiskey laying astrayed on the table.
It was almost midnight. The room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of high strung lights, shadows of which danced lazily on the ceiling as if to hum along with the soft murmurs of conversations flowing around. One of which was this, then, between the ones who used-to-be, entwined in a delicate dance of reminiscence and longing.
There was a gentle haze in the man's voice, it had taken on a lazy, mellifluous quality, each word drawn out as if savoring the taste of the conversation. He could barely keep his eyes open and yet his countenance softened by the amber glow of the glass in hand and the weight of unspoken truths. As if to not let loose an opportunity.
An opportunity of what?
Mare conversation, with someone he had once been close to. Someone he had never seemed to understand however much he tried, a result of his own impatient self as he would later admit. "I mean, you do most times. And I don't mean that as a compliment. Not necessarily, no. It's mostly an observation. There's something about the way you weave your words that makes a person want to listen, if only for the sake of listening. Do you understand what I mean Al?"
Sighing in wonder for the hundredth time at his companion for the night, the man offered his confession. It felt as though they were following a familiar script, one both he and his companion knew all too well.
But that was all before. Before the used-to-be had yet to come. To pass.
Tonight, however, felt different and rightfully so as tonight wasn't one of those nights. Tonight was two years later, a time that had significantly been surrendered to change.
It was a conscious decision on his part, he had been missing his friend. Change however, wasn't such a conscious thing. He still had hope that she would understand. No, he knew. He knew that she did understand that part. She always had. Understood him, that is.
Him on the other hand? Not so much. Not always anyway. Perhaps that was a reason why she kept him at a distance. Far enough to keep herself a safe trip away from his wandering self, for she knew what might happen if that weren't the case. She knew and always had known this, for people only ever wanted to see up to which level would she be able to keep taming their hunger of curiosity. A curiosity that she was herself. The woman, named Alyvia.
The night wore on, conversations grew softer, more reflective. The energy mellowed, and a peaceful, almost sacred hush settled over the room. People began to drift into their own thoughts, still connected but comfortably wrapped in their own individual worlds.
Alyvia, gently took a sip of her drink, the gold of her face more patient than ever. She shut her eyes, savouring the flavour of her wine, her smile a secret. Every now and then, she would glance around with a slow, appreciative gaze, as if drinking in the warmth and camaraderie of the gathering.
She took her time answering him, so long that for a moment he feared she wouldn't.
"Perhaps I want it that way."
The man sighed again, though this time in relief. He really wanted this conversation to work and desperately so. For what? He did not know himself. All he knew was that it had been two fucking years and he no longer wanted to let his obstinacy to win. "Or perhaps you just can't help yourself. It has always been like that with you and I'm glad to see that you haven't changed at all." Fondness and inebriety evident on the curve of his mouth. Resting his head at the back of the couch and eying the woman. He no longer fighted the urge to close his eyes, for he could see that old glimmer of nostalgia right before him, that privilege of an old friend's company. He just wanted to let this moment go on as long as he could.
Alyvia only met his gaze but didn't offer a response. If only he knew.
"I have missed this. And you. Especially you, Al. You have no idea how badly I wanted to talk to you or even just do this you know? Sharing life over drinks like we used to back then. Most of all, I've missed listening to you talk about the most mundane of things and still be able to make complete sense."
It was as if the wine had switched its effect off of her mind because Alyvia was dreading this meet for the nth time that night. Suddenly she was very aware of all the whys of their situation. It was a mere coincidence, this meeting. It was supposed to be a get-together between friends from the good ol' days, the guestlist of which Alyvia was unaware of. Although, she should have been more careful.
While trying to hide herself behind the tipsiness accompanied by the delicious wine, Alyvia had not realised that she was now left alone with the one person she didn't want to be alone with. Hadn't there been more people on the table? Whenever did they leave? she wondered, desperately looking for a way out.
Oh, how she lamented her lack of vigilance. The pang of regret intensified as she observed guests preparing to leave, their laughter and chatter gradually fading. Perhaps she should have discerned her unease the moment she stepped into the room and saw him among the crowd. An excuse to leave could have been crafted then. Perhaps she should devise one now, there is no need to keep this conversation going and she deserved to use all the rights to abandon it.
Despite the battles of her inner deliberations, Alyvia found herself unable to leave. Not just yet. For tonight was more than just about him. Tonight was about her, about reuniting with old friends. So, she decided, she was going to make the best of it. Because he was wrong.
Because Alyvia had changed. This was irrefutable. No more hiding.
"I have missed this too, Andrew. This was a great idea." And with that, Alyvia excused herself from the table, taking her glass of wine as well as her company away from him; a departure marked not by farewell, but by the unspoken promise of tomorrow's uncertainty. For in the silent spaces between their words lay the echoes of a friendship tested by time; a friendship bound by the immutable laws of fate and the vagaries of the human heart.
