Mending a broken heart.

Part b: Dejavu

"Girl, what are you making?" Leya asks Chelsea who is standing in the kitchen mixing drinks strong enough to make you forget about life.

Chelsea doesn't notice Leya approach, so she is somewhat taken back when Leya puts her hand on her shoulder, causing her to almost spilling the drink in her one hand.

"Something strong enough for me to be able to tolerate their faces without feeling the need to punch them," Chelsea swirls the concoction in her hand with her index finger, licks it and hands it over to her friend, "which is every single time. Drink."

Leya reachs for the drink hesitantly taking it into her hold, since the last time she drank heavy liquor with Chelsea, she even forgot her own name.
She brings the drink to her lips and as the liquid meets her taste buds, she immediately regrets it, scrunching her face and making Chelsea laugh. The drink tastes like a mixture of vinegar and spirit, leaving her tongue bitter and dry. She drags her  tongue across her palate trying to get rid of the taste as it overshadows her entire tastebuds.
It somehow tastes and feels like dejavu. The last time she dared poison her system with heavy liqour was so she could forget a boy and not confront certain feelings. And here she is again, bringing the red cup up to her lips, for the second time.

She takes another sip and like any other situation, one sip turns into three cups and as a couple of hours pass, she finds herself holding onto a can of beer. Something she loathes even just by looks of it, nevermind the taste but this time, the alcohol is controlling her every move.
Seated on the grass in the back yard, Chelsea beside her, violently trying to wipe away all the drool escaping her mouth, Leya can feel a slight headache forming just above her ear. She groans knowing tomorrow will not be easy and the nausea will only be more corrupt.

"Nooo, way, it isn't her, it's the other friend," Leya protests, looking at a blurred out Chelsea, who by the looks of it, is about to throw up. She looks back to the pool, where either Cara or Ashley are jumping into the pool, her eyes fighting with the fitted prescription placed before them.

"Yes it is!" Chelsea screechs defensively, settling on the option that it is certainly their classmate Cara who just flashed everyone in the pool, as her phone begins to vibrate, "argh hold up," Chelsea reaches into her jeans' back pocket retrieving her phone. Josh's name flashes on the screen and she stands up to take the call, leaving Leya alone on the grass.

Josh who is out out of the city with his family, visiting his grandparents, has been trying to call Chelsea the entire day without any success. She has continuously been ignoring him hoping he'll feel bad for the way he left, without saying goodbye in person, but through a text. She was hoping to keep it up until his return tomorrow, but her defense has crumbled since she downed more than four cups.

"What?" Chelsea shouts into the phone walking away from Leya.

Feeling alone and out of place, Leya takes her phone out and opens one of her mother's messages, were she's expressing how concerned she is about her safety and feels the need to remind her not to break curfew. Even on New Years' Eve.

"Hi," Mike greets as he stands next to Leya.

Leya switches her phone and looks up and knowing already who it is, she looks away and doesn't reply.
Realizing she isn't going to reply, Mike takes a seat beside her, bringing his knees forward and cradling them. Since this is the first time he will be talking to her, ever since they broke up, he sits there quietly, unsure of what to say.

"How are you?" he asks after wrestling with his own tongue.

Leya already knows how their future conversations are supposed to go and but with this happy buzzing in her system, she kind of knows why she hasn't flipped him already. She's confident.
Though upon hearing his question, she realises she doesn't really have an answer. She averts her eyes to the people around them and starts plucking out the grass tossing it into the air.
It shouldn't be that hard to answer.

After her dad's passing, she's been used to being asked that question, a many a times, but maybe that's just decent etiquette, from people who hardly knew her or her dad, just offering their condolences.
Maybe it's because out of everyone that has asked, Mike is probably one of the few, that actually mean it. Or so she hopes, given their history.

"I don't know, I'm okay I guess," she settles on something that's more of a truth and less a lie.

"Yeah? I'm glad," Mike answers as he expires.

They sit in silence for while once again, neither quite sure what to say to alleviate the tension in the air.
Leya resumes plucking the grass and throwing it into the air, thinking of all the scenarios she had imagined of what would happen once they started talking again. Most of these scenarios she would end up in tears running down her cheeks and snort dripping down onto her lips, past her mouth to her chin and then Mike would apologise for everything and they would at least go back to being best friends.
Did she ever envision them sitting here, in Bethany's backyard in silence like this? Hell no.
But she finds some sense of comfort in it; just sitting in silence, without her in tears, hiccuping throughout.
Maybe her thought process was so obscured back then by a dream that her fourteen-year-old self had stored in her brain. One where they'd one day get married and get buried in the same coffin. A dream so far from reality she never took time to apprehend that maybe the best thing for them would be the end of their romantic relationship.

Leya, while smiling, looks at a disoriented, Mike, who is looking out at the people.
She envisions a thirty-year-old mother of two, version of herself, presumably sitting in a rocking chair on a porch somewhere breast feeding and thanking this seventeen-year-old version of herself, although inebriated, for being so mature and finally moving on.

"How are you?" she asks Mike and he looks at her quite startled by the question itself.

"I'm- I'm good. I'm okay if you're okay," he answers with a smile, giving her a double take, still confused by her demeanour.

As they sit there, looking out onto the pool where people are having the time of their lives, Leya notices from her peripheral, Bethany walking towards them.
She has been looking for Mike for their midnight kiss and when she sees him sitting and talking with Leya, the girl she once called a friend and now resents, she starts heading their way. She has always said that he has this way of acting and speaking intuitively when around Leya and she cannot afford to have him speak about that night he broke up with Leya, to anyone, especially to Leya herself. Many hearts were broken that night, but a lot lives will be lost, if Mike is to speak.

Leya then tries standing up, as Beth gets nearer. Having just managed to walk over one of the poorly constructed bridges in her life, by talking to Mike without feeling the need to cry or that of being suffocated and having reached the other side safely, she decides that one bridge is enough for the day. The bridge that is Beth can be given a try some other day. Or maybe never.
There never really was a concrete relationship between the two of them to begin with.

Unwillingly they lock eyes and Beth flashes Leya a smile, as Leya places her hand on Mike, standing up right, "Happy new year," she says.

Forgetting the amount of alcohol in her system, she stumbles as she tries to step away and Mike places his hands on her hips, helping her find her balance, "You too," he says.

She offers him a genuine smile and walks away just as the fireworks fire up into the sky.

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•Author's Note•

I'm not sure about you guys but I don't know if I would have been as calm as Leya is, if my ex was to come talk to me, especially if he had done what Mike did.
I know I would have at least been a bit confrontational and gotten some kind of closure and maybe throw in a few wordy words in there.
Or maybe I'm just still bitter from past experiences?
Anyway, positive vibes.

Let's also not forget that when intoxicated, people usually get wordy. But not Leya. She's a mood!

Disclaimer: I'm not perpetuating drinking culture. Please stay safe out there.