serendipity

two

The swarm of people that had been hanging out in the bar just yesterday seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

The dance floor was devoid of any human presence, the only few people that were in the surrounding were a couple of seemingly best friends who sat at a table, howling with laughter every now and then, their cachinnation resonating throughout the entire ambiance.

His eyes flickered to the wall clock, a distrait breath of relief escaped him.

Half an hour till his working hours end.

He diverted his gaze to the opening glass door, as a familiar figure stumbled in, holding a half empty vodka bottle in her right hand. Her cheeks were tinted pink, matching the colour of her sweater.

It was the girl from yesterday.

She tottered over to the bar and sat on a stool, a troubled expression etched across her face.

"Are you alright?" He initiated.

"Great,"

"Doesn't look like it."

"Because it isn't," she whined, burying her face in her hands, "life's a bitch."

He smiled sympathetically. "We can all agree on that one."

"Life sucks,"

He internally agreed whilst silence rippled between the both of them for a while. "You do know that Christmas is in half an hour right?"

"I don't want to go home," she whined again, the alcohol seemed to have brought out a distressed and childish side of her.

He frowned, a little bemused at her statement. He'd never pass up an oppoturnity to go back to his family, especially during the holidays, where he has a chance to take a break from his arduous college life. "Why not?"

"It's so stressful back there,"

"How so?"

"My family always pressures me into being some medical Harvard university graduate," she jabbered while a crease formed on her forehead, "but when all I want to do is model,"

"That sucks, I'm sorry," he mused, while scanning the girl before him. "but you'd make a good model."

Her face lit up, and he swore the affliction he saw in her eyes disappeared for a moment. "You are nice."

"Thank you." A genuine smile slowly formed on his lips.

"What are you doing here then?" She emphasized on 'you', waving a finger in front of him.

"Working."

She raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "On Christmas?"

"I can't go home." Another stinging pain clutched on his insides as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

"Why not?"

"There's nobody at home."

She tilted her head to the side, her lowered eyebrows and the puzzled look in her eyes told him that she was waiting for an explanation he didn't want to do. He tore away from her piercing gaze, uneasiness taking over his features. Not acknowledging his change of mood, she continued to stare at him intently.

"My parents died in an accident." He finally gave up and blurted out what he had been keeping in for the past few years. Mixed emotions started clouding his brain as he experienced a disastrous amount of hurt and relief at the same time. Spitting out what had been bottling inside of him for years was somehow relieving, but the fact that he had to be reminded of a drastic tragedy was reminded made his heart ache more.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You don't deserve this."

"Thank you."

"Danica!" A shrill voice screeched.

He turned towards the source of the voice, finding a frantic teenager at the entrance of the bar, who was running towards his direction. The girl looked a little too young to be in a bar with her petite frame, the black leather jacket draping on her shoulders didn't seem to do her justice. She was gaping as she approached, portraying extreme relief.

"Danica oh my god where have you been?" The younger girl ran towards the girl he was talking to, wrapping her arms around her neck.

"What are you doing?" The girl who he was talking to earlier, whose name seems to be Danica, pushed the younger girl away and glared at her menacingly. It wasn't until up close that he realized that the both of them looked quite similar.

"What do you think I'm doing?" She threw her hands up in exasperation, as if used to her behaviour. "I was looking for you of course!"

Danica snarled at the younger version of herself. "Go. Home."

"I'm not going home without you." Folding her arms across her chest, her firm statement implied that this wasn't the first time dealing with this situation.

"I am not."

"Stop it. You're drunk."

"I'm not!"

"Just stop. You're coming with me." With one last demand, the younger girl was dragging off a reluctant and pissed Danica out of the bar, leaving the bartender, who witnessed everything, alone.

Danica. He repeated in his head.

Sounds familiar.