As the night went on, the group decided to play a game, and Aiah, despite her earlier hesitation, found herself joining in. The room quickly filled with bursts of laughter as the game began, a mix of competitive energy and playful teasing.
Aiah, surprisingly, was having fun. Colet was laughing loudly beside her, and the two exchanged banter as they tried to outdo each other in the game. Gwen and Sheena, always ready with a witty remark, kept throwing playful jabs at each other, while Stacey and Johanna's constant back-and-forth added an extra layer of humor to the atmosphere. The energy was contagious, and Aiah couldn't help but get swept up in it.
Mikha, however, remained on the sidelines, watching them all with a detached curiosity. She didn’t join in. To her, the game seemed childish. She leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, observing the chaos unfold with a small, amused smirk playing on her lips.
As Aiah caught Mikha’s gaze from across the room, their eyes locked for a brief moment. There was something in that look, a silent acknowledgment of the quiet connection they'd shared earlier.
The noise of the room, the laughter, the teasing, the playful banters, seemed to fade for just a second, and the space between them felt charged again, even if only for a brief, fleeting moment.
But then, the laughter broke through, and Aiah turned back to the game, her attention pulled back into the noise of the evening. Yet Mikha's gaze lingered a little longer, her thoughts unclear, watching as Aiah’s laughter mixed with the rest of the room’s joy.
---
As the hours ticked by, the energy in the room began to mellow, though laughter still echoed occasionally from the group. It was already past 7 PM, and Mikha was still sitting on the couch, her sharp eyes now slightly glazed. She hadn’t moved much throughout the evening, quietly nursing her drink while observing the others. What she hadn’t realized, however, was that she’d already downed two full bottles of alcohol.
By now, the signs of drunkenness were obvious, her posture slouched, her head swaying slightly, and her usual sharp wit dulled by the haze. Her eyelids grew heavier, and she blinked slowly, fighting the pull of sleep as the warmth of the alcohol coursed through her.
Stacey, always quick to notice, caught sight of her sister’s state. Concern etched across her face, she walked over to Mikha, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Mikhs," Stacey said softly, crouching slightly to meet her sister’s half-lidded gaze. "You should rest. Let’s go upstairs."
Mikha groaned in response, her voice thick and drowsy. "I’m fine... I don’t need to," she mumbled, though the slight slur in her words betrayed her condition.
"No, you’re not," Stacey insisted, her voice tinged with worry. She glanced over at the rest of the group, who were still caught up in their game, oblivious to Mikha’s state. Turning back to her sister, Stacey spoke more firmly. "Come on, Mikhs. Let me help you. You’re going to feel awful if you stay here like this."
Reluctantly, Mikha tried to stand but wobbled slightly, her balance betraying her. Stacey caught her just in time, wrapping an arm around her to steady her. Mikha leaned heavily against her, too tired and drunk to protest further.
"Thanks, Staks," Mikha murmured, her voice soft and nearly inaudible. "You’re going to owe me for this, though." Stacey replied
As Stacey carefully guided Mikha upstairs, the laughter and noise from the group continued to fill the background. But for Mikha, it all began to blur into a distant hum as sleep and exhaustion pulled her under.
---
The house is quiet now, the earlier chaos of laughter and chatter having faded into the stillness of the night.
