❛❛She was simple, like quantum physics.❜❜
❛❛「₪」❜❜
Gulp. Three mere sips of red wine, and an absurd confidence takes over her entire body. She smiles. Or so to the rest of the world. Deep down, she knows she is breathing to calm herself, asking herself to be brave, telling herself she can do it. She knows she can. She knows how to talk to people. She's always been good with people. But this time, things are different. All of this is new to her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she takes one last glance at the man she's been watching for over ten minutes before placing her glass— the rim now marked with her scarlet red lipstick— on the counter, graceful as ever.
Her jet black hair, dyed mulberry at the end, falls to her shoulders, doing justice to her outfit of the day. A simple red silk dress hugged her curves all over, falling to her mid-thighs. The neck of the dress allows a good view of her cleavage, her shoulders left bare. A simple red and silver necklace rests on her neck. A stunning woman, to whoever sets eyes on her.
She takes a seat that is closer to this breathtaking stranger she's been meaning to approach for a while, and as she does so, said man's suspicions are confirmed. So she is interested. A smile forms on his lips, but it is so small, no one was likely to notice it unless their faces are inches apart from each other's. However, he does not regard her just yet.
"Xan?" He chooses to talk to the bartender instead, who in turn holds up a hand, gesturing him to wait.
After a few seconds of silence, the bartender (apparently named Xan), turns to the man.
"Yes, Al?"
"Light this for me, will you, Xantheus?" He says, holding up a cigarette, pissed at him for making him wait.
"Can't find my lighter. Been lookin' for it since forever." Xan shrugs, matter-of-factly.
As he sighs, Al notices the woman take something out of her purse, and then, before he has time to analyse her next move, she shifts closer to him and says, "Allow me."
A seductive smile dancing on her lips, she holds up a lighter. Raising an eyebrow, Al puts the cigarette between his teeth, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. She gladly lights it.
After taking one small puff, he holds out his hand, "Alan Sergio Adkins."
"Sandra Alice Alinac." She smiles, taking his hand in hers. As their palms touch, Alan cannot help but feel surprised. Looking at her delicate frame from afar, he had assumed that her hands would feel small and soft. But as he feels the rough skin of this woman resting against his palm, he feels intrigued. Something deep down inside tells him, this woman is more than you think, Al. But then, it made no sense to judge someone on the basis of how rough their hand is. Oh shut it, Al, maybe she just has dry skin. No need to fucking overthink.
Besides, isn't everybody more than you think? Is it not that when you think someone loves you just as much as you love them, they end up scarring your heart forever? When you think your lover will never break your trust, but in the end, they do exactly so. When you think that just because someone is harsh to the world, they are heartless, but you end up realising they've just had a hard life. When you think someone is not capable of loving at all, they turn out to be the ones who can give more love than anyone else. When you think of someone as a loser on the basis of their failures, but they turn out to be the most successful. Aren't we all wearing masks to hide our true selves? Aren't we all more than what others think of us to be? Aren't we all more than what we think we are?
"So, Alan, are you a regular smoker?" Sandra asks, but when he does not reply, she realises he has zoned out.
"Alan?" She taps his shoulder, and he looks at her, and for a moment, for just one split second, their eyes meet. Had his eyes not been red because of the alcohol, she would have fallen in love with them instantly.
"Do you smoke regularly?"
"Nope, but today was shit."
"Isn't every day?" She chuckles.
"Undeniably."
"But we go on."
"But we go on." He repeats her subconsciously, nodding, his eyes fixed on the front instead of her face.
"Why do we go on?" He asks her, not even realising where that question came from. He was never someone who had long conversations. Then why was he pushing this one? The alcohol. Of course the alcohol. He always talked more under the influence of it. And every time he came back to his senses, the thought of having been some bloody chatterbox would irk him. Though he would never quite remember much of the conversation, so who was to say he was the one who did the talking?
"Because no matter how much we deny it, we all have hope. Maybe just a tad bit, but we do." She smiles, not seductively. It's a genuine smile, for she speaks from her heart.
"Well, I deny it. Not only do I have no hopes, I am a hopeless man whatsoever." He chuckles, but it's not a hearty chuckle. It is as if to hide the pain, to cover all the shit in his life.
"Do you have dreams, Alan?"
"Yeah. I prefer to call them nightmares, though." He breathes out; smoke leaving his mouth because of the constant puffing.
She wants to laugh, but this is not the time. "No, I mean do you dream of something in the future? Something bright, something nice, something happy."
He simply shakes his head and proceeds to take another drag from his cigarette. He had never been so truthful to anyone. Not even to Xantheus, who stands there, looking at his best friend speaking his heart to some random woman he had just met. It hurts him, of course, for he thinks he could never earn Alan's trust. But a part of him feels happy to see his friend open up.
"Not for yourself?"
Another shake of the head and a long drag.
"Not even for someone else? Someone you love?"
Suddenly, everything else stops. He gulps and looks back at Sandra, a small yet genuine smile resting on her lips, one that reaches her eyes. She knows she's hit the right spot.
That's what he said.
Oh shut the fuck up, Al.
He nods.
"Well, there you are then. That's your tiny bit of hope. That's why you are going on. Because you dream of something happy for the one you love. And I'm supposing you want to be the reason behind their happiness. Am I right?"
"Yes."
"Now you know why we go on. Don't let that dream die, Mr. Adkins."
"Mr Adkins? Really?" He says, his voice still low.
"Isn't that your name? Or did I make a mistake in hearing you when you introduced yourself?" She chuckles, gesturing to Xantheus to get her another glass of wine.
"You didn't. But you just called me Alan."
"And?"
"And I don't see why you'd shift from informal to formal."
"It's fun." She shrugs.
"FUN?"
"Mhmm." She says, sipping her wine.
"I don't understand."
"It's fun because it is almost like teasing."
He shakes his head, in defeat? Disappointment? He had no clue. All he knew was that this woman was an optimist, and he had always told himself one thing in life. Stay away from optimists. They'll be happy about the smallest little shits in life, while you'll be out there hating every goddamn thing. They will make you think there's something wrong with you, which it very much is. EVERYTHING IS WRONG. WITH YOU. WITH YOUR LIFE. WITH THE WORLD. AND OPTIMISTS. WON'T. HELP. They make you feel like shit.
"You are an optimist, I see." He voices his thought, something he had never thought he'd do in a million years.
"Quite so." She nods knowingly. He probably already hates you, darl.
"WHY?"
"Because living is better than existing. If you let the shit of life take over—" A jerk of his hand makes her stop mid-sentence.
"Let me rephrase. Why do you optimists have to go on spreading your fucking optimism and make us feel like shit."
"We don't make you feel like shit, hun. In fact, our aim is quite the opposite. You are the ones who make yourself feel like shit. Because you pity yourself. Don't. Nobody needs pity. They need love. So love yourself."
"It's easy to say." He scoffs, his cigarette- resting in the ashtray- long forgotten.
"I'm doing it, aren't I?"
"Because you are an optimist, Sandra."
"No. Because I allow myself to be an optimist. You don't."
"And how the fuck do I allow myself?"
"By not seeing everything as shitty."
"But I need to be an optimist for that."
"Indeed. It's a circle really."
"Are you fucking with me?"
"I suppose not. I mean, I am fully dressed, am I not?" She laughs, now irritated at how the man she so badly wanted to talk to, didn't even try to understand her.
"Fully dressed would be an overstatement."
What the fuck. "Overstatement? Are you suggesting that you have a problem with my dressing?"
"No. I have a problem with life and every damn thing about it."
She sighs, "Back to square one, hm? Change the topic."
He raises an eyebrow.
"Change the topic, Alan." She repeats.
"Fine." He sighs in defeat.
"Ask me something." She says, getting back to her glass of wine.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Ask me something. Anything."
"I'm bad with dragging conversations, Sandra."
"Doesn't matter. Ask me the first thing that comes to your mind."
He fiddles with his fingers, then takes a deep breath and asks, "If you were given an opportunity to rewrite the stars, would you change the past or the future?"
"You go first." She says, still smiling. Oh, what he would give to be able to smile like that all the time. All he could do, however, was be some fucking melancholic man.
"I thought I was going to ask and you were going to answer?" He crosses his arms across his chest, his seat now facing towards her, giving him a better view of the woman he barely knew. He drinks in all of her.
"Well, think better next time, Mr Adkins."
"Not the Adkins again."
She laughs, and he sighs even more, which irks her. Oh come on you grumpy man, smile for once!
"Come on, answer." She says.
"I'd change the past."
"Why?" she asks softly, sensing the nervousness, (and hurt?) in his voice.
"That's not really any of your business." He says sternly.
Sandra shakes her head hopelessly and concentrates back on her glass.
"Sorry." She hears him say. She lifts up her face to meet his and knows he meant it.
"No, you were right, it is none of my business." She shakes her head.
"I could've said it in a better way though." The disappointment in his voice is clear. He expected better from himself.
"It's alright. We all snap sometimes. It's normal."
"So, your answer?" He asks, curious for some damn reason.
"I wouldn't." She states matter-of-factly.
"Huh?"
"I wouldn't change anything."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not." The smile never leaves her lips.
"There comes the optimism again. Satisfaction with everything life has and will be giving you. For fuck's sake."
"Not satisfaction, really. I did say life can be shit, didn't I?"
"Then why the fucking optimism?"
"You could do with swearing more you know." She deadpans.
"That's not the point."
"Indeed not."
"Why the optimism?"
"It's not optimism, not really. It's logic. Simple logic."
"What do you mean?"
"You don't have a lot of patience, do you?"
He rolls his eyes, and she chuckles again. It pisses him off. Does she HAVE TO keep laughing?
"I mean, humans are funny, really. Funny and dumb. They waste their entire life, their present, thinking about the future, and when the future comes, they waste it by mourning over how they wasted their past. Nobody lives in the present. But that is what they should. Live in the present for the past is the past, it's gone. And the future is a mystery. We think of things we'd do after we turn fifty or forty or whatever, but who is to say you would even get to live till tomorrow? What if you get hit by a car on the way home? What if, while we sit here talking, an earthquake takes us all down? What a waste our lives would be then. And this is not pessimism. This is the reality. This is the present. Your present, my friend, is your reality."
He just sat there, blinking.
"Thank you for coming to my ted talk." She adds as an afterthought.
And he chuckles, to which her eyes widen. So do Xan's.
"My my, not my grumpy ass of a friend laughing."
"Shut it Xan." He raises his eyebrow, to which Xan only gives him a flying kiss.
"For fuck's sake." Alan rolls his eyes.
"But-" He looks at her, unsure if he should ask her this.
"But?" She encourages him.
"But you said you have dreams for the future, for they help you go on. So you do think of the future."
"Partly true. Yes I think of the future, and no my dreams don't help for survival, I never said my dreams help me survive. It is my hope that does. Dreams are for you. The ones left without hope. And you have my deepest sympathy, I promise."
For a moment, he does not know what to say, but then he proceeds to appreciate Sandra's speech. To accept what she said. To thank her for having an impact on his beliefs. To accept that he was wrong. But before he could, a woman walks to her from behind, and before they know, she wraps her hands around her eyes.
"Guess who, missy?"
"Omega?"
"PLEASE you weren't supposed to guess it that fast."
"I'm just smart baby." She says and turns around to hug the new woman as if her life depended on it.
So cuddly, I can't with women.
Let's turn gay, Al.
Now WHERE THE FUCK did that come from?
Okay, stop thinking. Just stop thinking.
"Oh, Mr Adkins-" She starts, but changes her mind. "Uh, Alan, meet my friend Omega."
"Omega Irene Crawford." She extends her hand, smiling.
"Alan Adkins." He shakes her hand. Does everybody have rough palms these days?
But Sandra doesn't fail to notice how he doesn't introduce himself with his middle name.
"Care to introduce me, my friend?" Xan interjects, his eyes fixed on Omega.
"Right. Ladies, this is my friend, Xantheus Eastaughffe."
"Hello there, Xan." Sandra smiles.
"Fancy name, Xantheus." Omega says.
"Xan for you ma'am." He winks before getting back to his customers.
Author's Note
How was the first chapter is all I have to say 💀 Pardon me for not updating AIDS, I don't feel like it. Though I promise I will as soon as possible, for I did find a little bit of inspiration to update ✋🏻
P.S. Every character has been named so for a reason and you might never realise my reasons for it but trust me I've put effort. I've spent HOURS AND HOURS on baby name sites lmao, if my parents were to come across my search history, they'd think I'm preggo or summing. Not that I am. 🤡
Till then, enjoy this story :>
Might as well sell it to others lol.
Kidding.
TPWK.
Vreha x