“You know, this blue stuff is good…” Julius said, taking a long drink, his voice soft but carrying through the room.
The game continued around him. Julius had been the first to be knocked out, despite his love for Brago he was really poor at playing him. Now, the battlefield was reduced to a clash between Ciaran’s sliver deck and Dao’s proxy deck featuring Animal Crossing characters.
Dao adjusted her glasses and tapped her lands with precision. “Thank you,” she said, sliding a new card onto the field. “I call it The Amplifier, because it amplifies the good vibes of the night. It’s pretty weak, though. Less than a hard seltzer. I can’t trust anything over eight percent APV after the chaos Gerado brought to my Halloween party last year.”
“Well, it’s good,” Julius said, swirling the liquid in his cup. “I can hardly taste the liquor. It’s sort of like juice.”
“That’s all it is,” Dao replied. “Just lychee juice dyed blue and some vodka. Nothing fancy.”
Julius nodded absently, his eyes distant. He had been out of the game for over an hour, relegated to errand duty. Trips to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, brief ventures to the balcony where he lingered in silence before retreating back inside. His attempts at mingling with others had been short-lived.
“You better slow down with that stuff, king,” Ciaran said, his voice pointed. He tapped his cards, signaling an attack. “You said you hardly drink anything but water. Jumping into the deep end won’t do you any favors.”
Dao chuckled, glancing at Julius sprawled out on the floor, earbuds in. “You’re saying that as if you didn’t make him take a few shots earlier.”
Ciaran smirked, sliding a card into play. “I don’t want to be in the company of pussies. Besides, I wanted to see what he’s like drunk.” He tilted his head toward Julius, who was staring blankly at the ceiling. “And now I know.”
Dao raised an eyebrow. “What am I looking at?”
“You’re looking at a broken man who thinks he’s hiding it. But the blue stuff makes him forget to keep up the act. A few months ago, he lost everything. His friends, the love of his life—childhood sweetheart, apparently. The guy’s heartbroken, and he doesn’t even realize how much it’s written all over him.” He tapped a creature card on the battlefield.
“That’s twenty damage.”
Dao frowned slightly. “Oh, I get it now. You’re projecting. You want someone to wallow with you in your tragic, hopeless romanticism.”
Ciaran shook his head. “It’s not about me. I’m trying to stop him from ending up where I am. One heartbreak is enough to ruin you. Githika did that to me. Took my sense of the future, my trust in people. It’s why I don’t sleep. Why I don’t drink—not really. When I do, I make sure it doesn’t get the better of me. I’ve learned to use it, not let it use me.”
He kicked Julius gently, enough to stir him from his trance. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha listening to?”
Julius pulled out one earbud and looked at him, blinking slowly. “Just some jazz,” he muttered.
“Baker?”
“He’s in there.”
Ciaran glanced at Dao. “Not good,” he said quietly, before redirecting his attention back to Julius. “Hey, buddy, what was the girl’s name?”
Julius groaned, trying to pull himself up, but his vision spun. His arms gave out, and he slumped back onto the floor. “Joan…” he mumbled. His words came out uneven, his lips struggling to form them properly. “She was my everything.”
Ciaran reached for the tequila bottle, pouring a hefty amount into Julius’s cup. The liquid sloshed as it filled the cup. Julius barely sat up, grabbed the cup with a shaky hand, and tipped it back. At least one shot’s worth spilled down his neck, soaking into his shirt. The rest vanished as if it were water. His tongue was dulled, and the burn had long since ceased to register.
“Why don’t you tell me about her,” Ciaran said, his focus shifting away from the game entirely.
Julius groaned, again. “She… she was my everything…” His voice cracked, the syllables thick and uneven. “I spent most of my life… pining for her. Everything I did—everything—was so conscious, so deliberate, because of her. I thought about how she’d feel if I did something. If an action might… might earn her affection.” He paused, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the ceiling.
“I was always too afraid to tell her how I felt,” he continued, his tone more fragile. “But then, right before our senior dance… we actually… we became a thing. All those years. The feelings—they were mutual.” His face twisted into a faint, fleeting smile, but it was gone just as quickly. “I was the highest I’d ever been. Everything was perfect. I planned it all out in my head. Our future. It was all lining up. It felt right, like… like it was meant to be.”
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He swallowed hard, his voice growing quieter. “And then she was taken away from me.”
Julius’s breathing was uneven, and he wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “Her beautiful blonde hair… her hypnotic green eyes… her lips… God, her lips. Commanding, soft, perfect.” He exhaled shakily. “Her laugh—so contagious. Her company made everything feel lighter. She had this way of making me feel like… like I wasn’t alone. She was my other half. My better half. Another version of me, but better—she just understood me. I never had to explain myself to her.”
His voice faltered, and he shook his head slightly, his expression distant. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back. She was my one and only…” He trailed off, sinking further into the haze of alcohol.
Ciaran stayed silent, his gaze lingering on Julius for a moment before shifting back to the table. The hum of Dao organizing her cards and the faint clatter of chips being shuffled between her fingers filled the air.
Ciaran reached over to Julius’ cup and poured him a little more.
Dao stood up, stretching her arms. “I’m going to check on everyone downstairs. Make sure they haven’t trashed the place,” she said, grabbing the tequila bottle from Ciaran’s hand. “Don’t let him drink himself into a coma, okay?”
Ciaran nodded, his focus still on Julius. “Yeah, yeah. Go be the responsible one.”
Dao shot him a look but did not say anything. She left, her footsteps fading as she descended the stairs.
Ciaran took a seat on Dao’s bed, his attention still on Julius. The young man was still sprawled on the floor, clutching his now empty cup. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and his eyes were glassy, rimmed with redness.
“She really got to you, huh?” Ciaran said, his voice softer now. “Tell me, Julius. What are you gonna do now that she’s gone?”
Julius blinked slowly, his lips trembling. His voice cracked as he tried to respond, but the words tangled in his throat. He exhaled shakily and wiped at his eyes, but the tears started to fall anyway.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. His words were slurred, the alcohol dragging them down. “I can’t… I can’t do anything. She’s gone. What else is there? What’s the point of doing anything if she’s not… if she’s not there?”
Ciaran leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re young, man. You think she was the only one, but there’s someone else out there. You’ll see it someday, I promise. You’re not done yet.”
Julius shook his head weakly, his voice breaking. “There’s no one else. There’s not gonna be anyone else. She was it. She was… everything. I loved her since I was a kid. Do you know how rare that is? I spent my whole life wanting her, waiting for her, and I had her. Just for a little while. And now it’s gone. All of it’s gone.”
He wiped his face again, but the tears kept coming. His voice grew quieter, more broken. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to… to feel this way again. I don’t want to lose someone like this again.”
Ciaran leaned back slightly, his tone probing. “I know more about this love thing than you can imagine. That’s how I know it's foolish. I’ve lost my chance at love only because I let myself. I sank too far and nobody was there to stop me. But I know how stupid I am. I know despite my hopelessness, that it's all irrational… How do you know there’s no one else? Do you really think you’ve got it all figured out? What if you’re wrong? What if there’s someone else out there who could give you just as much, if not more?”
Julius groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t care!” he blurted, his voice raw. “I don’t care if there’s someone else! I don’t want anyone else! I wanted her! She was perfect—perfect for me. No one’s ever gonna…” He trailed off, his sobs choking him.
Ciaran watched him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not gonna find out if you just waste away like this. Is this it for you, then? You’re just gonna drink yourself into nothing and give up? Is that what Joan would’ve wanted?”
Julius flinched at the name, his body curling slightly as he broke down further. His words spilled out in fragments, barely coherent. “She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t want this. But I don’t… I can’t… I can’t do it without her.” He turned his head, staring blankly at the wall. “I just wanted… I wanted to make her happy. That’s all I wanted. And now…”
Ciaran sighed and leaned back, folding his arms. He did not say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them. The only sound in the room was Julius’s uneven breathing, punctuated by soft, muffled sobs.
After a few moments, Ciaran spoke again, his tone low and measured. “You’re in the thick of it now, man. I get it. But you’re not the first person to lose someone they love, and you won’t be the last. You think this pain’s gonna last forever, but it won’t. Not if you don’t let it. But maybe you are right… Maybe she was the one and there is no one else for you… If you lost your chance to live for someone else, why not live for yourself…”
Julius did not respond. His body was still, except for the slight shake of his shoulders as he cried.
Ciaran looked at him for a while longer, then sighed again and stood up. He grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair and draped it over Julius. “Get some rest. You’re not doing yourself any favors like this.”
----------------------------------------
Julius lay motionless, the haze of alcohol pulling him under completely. His breathing was shallow, his face pale. The world around him faded in and out, muffled voices blending with the distant hum of music from downstairs.
Somewhere in the fog, he vaguely registered someone kneeling beside him. A voice cut through, sharp and urgent, though it sounded distant, like it was coming from another room.
“He’s not good,” the voice said, tense. “Get him to 505.”
The words barely registered as Julius drifted further, the sounds fading into a low hum. Darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating, swallowing him whole.