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When the "Let's burn everything our exes forgot at our places" cleansing ritual suddenly turns into the best thing that could ever happen.
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They'd made a fire in the grill outside in Neymar's garden. Not for a barbeque, mind you. No, definitely not. They were going for the good old "Let's burn everything our exes forgot at our places" cleansing ritual.
Which – as karma would have it – happened to collide with the single person's bane of existence: Valentine's Day. As if you needed a day to remind you that everyone else but you had a special someone! It only led to sadness, which led to anger, which led to the ultimate need to destroy something.
Ergo – making a fire on the eve of Saint Valentine. Hurray.
"You think the briefs will burn?" Ali asked. She held up the garment between her fingertips, wrinkling her nose at the sight; as if the men's clothing item had just personally insulted her.
It was a legitimate question. The thing was an abomination – it was a bright red and blue, with the emblem of Superman showing at the front. The shiny material suggested that it probably had never been in contact with anything that was not chemical whatsoever either.
Neymar shrugged after having examined the briefs with a contemplative look. Then he gestured toward the fire. "I say let's find out."
Ali, after a last shrug and a whispered "I don't really care anyways", threw it into the flames. It took a moment, with lots of smoke (plastic or similar things will do that), but eventually it started to burn.
As they watched the fire destroy the briefs, Neymar couldn't help but say, "I never liked him anyways."
They were both aware he wasn't talking about the superhero.
Ali, his best friend in the world since they were able to walk, sighed heavily, humoring him by going along. "Me neither. Batman's so much better."
Silence stretched between them as they stood next to each other in front of the grill. Their eyes were locked on the flames, but neither were really seeing the items turning to ashes – the briefs, a bra, several pictures (one with a picture frame that held too many memories), a hair band and a simple girly pink top. The remnants of Ali's cheater ex-boyfriend and Neymar's cheater ex-girlfriend.
You could take a wild guess with whom they'd cheated. Yeah. It sucked. Majorly.
"What an idiot. What an ass," Ali muttered. Her short black hair fluttered around her face when she shook her head. "Both of them. They're both asses." She scoffed. "I guess that's why hers is so huge!"
She'd done the crying earlier – not that she'd held that much feelings for Victor in the first place because of... well, not so obvious reasons, she assumed. Well, not to the true object of her affections, who was blissfully unaware of the longing gaze she couldn't help but throw him.
