Her twenty-first birthday. A moment in time where she should've been legally drunk for the first time with her best friends. A moment in time where she should've leaned back against the pubs sticky counter in her dress and laughed with lipstick lining her teeth.
But of course, that moment in time was something she could never be granted. She would never know what it feels like to lean against the sticky counter of the pub her friends chose, and she will never laugh with lipstick in her teeth.
Instead she will feel the stupid counter underneath her elbows, pounding head in hands - the stickiness disgustingly coating her skin. And she will bite her lip as she tries her hardest to not cry on her birthday in front of her drunk friends.
She couldn't even enjoy her first legal drink with the weight of the one missing person she wished to be there. Her friends filled the essence as much as they could, but deemed it fruitless when she made it her mission to sit and drink whiskey at the bar and watch the door swing open and closed. Hope in her eyes each time the cool December air filtered in.
After the second hour her and her friends had been there, she gave up. Slamming back the burning liquid so as not to feel anything else in her body, she walked out. Not bothering to let anyone know where she was going, which was going to be a mistake in the morning, but her friends would get over it. They always did.
Several smokers lined the walls, fags lit between their fingers and lips, dull smoke drifting into the starless sky. Just her luck to have no stars to gaze at while she contemplates whether to text that missing weight or not. Apparently, the small amount of alcohol and the burning smoke in her nostrils chose that decision for her.
Her phone was heavy in her hand when she took it out of her coat pocket, but that didn't stop her from fumbling it around with numb fingers and tapping at the screen with a furious speed. You should've been there. She hit send, not thinking much of it.
Waiting took forever, though by the looks of it on her phones clock, it hadn't even been a minute. But that didn't stop her from sending yet another text: Should've burst through the door with that smile I love so much.
Half foggy brain, she shoved her device away, not wanting to see the damage those two sentences could bring her in the future. But that didn't stop her from tilting her head back against the wall that was behind her. The smokers dispersed, and she was alone. Alone with her thoughts.
If he had burst through that door with that stupid smile, it would've felt like a million little shining stars had just aligned in this starless night. Not to mention the fact that she would've been so happy. So happy that she might have even giggled and ran to him - swinging her arms loosely around his neck as his hands found that familiar dip in her hips that he like to hold onto.
Not knowing what she would've done didn't bother her, what bothered her was that she would never know how she would react to him in that doorway, scanning the crowd, looking for her. She would never know, because he didn't show.
He always showed, well, he used to. It was what made her love him more than life. He had been there, in more ways that just physically. Even after she had dumped all her past family altercations onto him, he held her, rubbed circles on her back and smoothed her hair like a child she never got to be. And when she quietly lifted her chin, he pushed his nose against her own and she smiled for the first time that day.
That was the day she knew he would always show. Except when he got a new job with new responsibilities and a new location that was further than thirty minutes away. Everything slowed then. Barely any time together and when they were joined as one, it was just exhaustingly tragic.
So when she climbed out of the cab in front of their shared apartment, she didn't let shock roll over her at the dark house and no familiar black pick up truck that he refused to get rid of (even though it barely ran) in the drive.
Quietness surrounded her as she walked to the designated front door that led to their home. Heels echoing in the air, forcing her to breathe in time of her steps. This felt like a movie she'd seen before, but she could not remember the ending. In her hopeless mind, she hoped it was a good ending.
When the door closed behind her, she fell against it. Back sliding down to the ground, her eyes closed in the darkness. Mind whirling with the night and how she should've known, deep down, that he would not show. When had he shown for her as of recent days? That last time was Valentine's day, and that only happened because his boss was in the hospital and he didn’t have to work.
She should not have been surprised, but there she sat. In her dress on the floor. No burning behind her eyes with tears, which was a good thing, but that could happen at any moment.
Deciding to just get up in what could of only been an hour, she made her way to the back of the apartment where their bed lay. Their room. The room they had made their very own with their combined pictures and banners and posters of their favourite bands. But as she stood in the center of the room - the ugliest rug under her feet - she couldn't help but feel that overwhelming sense of dread.
That dread carried over throughout the night as she curled up on the couch, mug of tea growing cold in her hand as she messed about with the remote - attempting to find any source of good tele time, which was impossible at this hour. It was all shows that required one to be high to enjoy.
Christmas lights glistened around her. Wrapped around the mantle and tucked on top of the cupboard, a soft glow filling the cold and empty space. It was what she needed. Especially when she kept her eye on the door, just waiting for him to walk in. But the time kept ticking. The next day was slowly approaching and she grew tired.
Tried of waiting. Tired of hoping. Tired of thinking he would go back to who he was. Tired of breathing into his mouth. Tired of wishing he would sleep next to her. She was just so fucking tired.
Her eyelids closed. Closed so gently that she wasn't even aware of the action until she startled awake the next morning with a vibrating phone ricocheting along her spine.
It took her longer than she would like to admit to gather her bearings and remember where she was and why she was passed out on the couch, Christmas lights still glowing, even as the morning sun peaked through the slits of her blinds.
When she located her phone, she didn't bother to look at the caller ID, knowing it would be one of her friends making sure she got home safe last night when she left her own party.
"Babe!" The shrill sound of Pandora's voice rang in her ear. And normally, she would smile at the sound, but at this moment of the morning - sleep still embedded in her eyes and throat - head pounding with the whiskey she drank, she winced at the sound. "We missed you last night! Did Barty ever show? Did you leave with him? You could've let us know. How have you been?"
Pandora had a soft voice, she always had. Even when she was excited and exclaiming her words, it was always a pitch quieter and so very soft that it felt like a cat circling your bare skinned ankles.
Combing back through her memory to answer the last question, she froze. Phone pressed to the shell of her ear, the rustling of background movement on the other end filling the silence.
Memories of how he said he'd be there. You said you'd be here. It was like slow motion. She was standing there in her party dress, holding her head in her hands on a sticky counter. Red lipstick lining her lips that she bit raw in anticipation and doubt, with no one to impress.
All her friends were laughing, dancing on the floor, drinking fruity drinks and enjoying the birthday night she should've been having. She remembers looking around the room, but realising there was one thing missing.
That was the moment she knew.
The silence on her end must've been too long, because there was a grunt followed by some static and a new voice, one she knew and fell deep into. "Darling." Regulus sighed. "We're coming over. Me and Dora, Evan might, too. He was out late with his new job, so I don't know. Leave the door unlocked." And as soon as he took the phone, it was ringing the hang up dial.
Her wrist felt weak, holding it to her ear, but she refused to drop it. She refused to let herself be drowned in the sadness that overcame her body when she felt the lingering effects of him not showing to her party - and not even coming home last night. How could she even get up?
But it didn't matter. In a short amount of time - Regulus must've been driving - her door was being thrown open. She hadn't even gotten up to unlock it ... which meant she left it unlocked. More than likely in hopes that Barty would come home to her.
Regulus and Pandora made themselves at home like they always did. Propping feet onto her coffee table, making cuppas, stealing blankets, and Pandora even took a shower.
Hours pass and she just wanted to be alone. Alone to think and breathe. But she couldn't. She couldn't be alone because their close friends always seemed to know when there's something really wrong.
So they sat with her. Offered her food. Took her feet into their laps and rubbed a thumb over the arch of her foot which always calmed her. They would follow her down the hall and there in the bathroom, she tried not to fall apart. But how could she not?
Two of her closest friends that she had met through him were standing right beside her. With her, and he wasn't.
And so the sinking feeling starts. The empty pit in her stomach dropped to her feet as her knees collided with the tiled floor, hand grasping the counter for some balance, but Pandora had her arms wrapped around her midsection in an instant. Regulus just crouched down to her level, eyeing her warily.
Hopelessly, she uttered: "He said he'd be here." And it was all slow motion again. The dress. The whiskey. The laughing. The impression that would never be made. The sticky bar. The texts. Slow motion as she finally allowed herself to break down.
Her sobs did not slow down. They did not even make a sound. It was silent - almost as if she had magicked them to be quiet so no ongoing listeners could hear just how broken she had become in the ten months he had promised her he'd be there.
With an aching sternum and burning eyes, she dropped her hand from the counter, clutching at her heart that was shattered in her ribcage. It was deafening, her heartbreak. Absolutely deafening, and she wasn't sure if she would ever heal.
Pandora kept up with the movements on her back, Regulus went to brushing her hair out of her face, now fully sitting on the cold tile with her and Dora. None of them talked - she didn't expect them to.
What do you say, when tears are streaming down your face in front of your friends? And what do you do when the one who means the most to you, is the one who isn't comforting you when he didn't show?
There wasn't much to say or do. She just had to allow it to take its course. Allow the wallow and pity fill her empty heart and stomach. She had to embrace the feeling of the hallow shape that was in a peculiar shape of Barty.
When her face was stiff with dry tears and her throat was clenching from the lack of liquid going down it, she attempted to stand on her wobbly legs. Her friends helped, one arm from each supporting her. Pandora around her shoulders and Regulus around her waist.
Eventually, they made it to the sofa once more, with more difficulty than they would ever admit. She was being surrounded with plush blankets and enough pillows to suffocate someone. All three of them were curled into each other, their warmth wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding in the cold emptiness of her home.
She wished he was here. You should've been here. She thought to herself. If he were, he would be bolstering about, like he always was. So full of energy that he didn't even know what to do with it all. If he were, he would be kissing her temple and whispering dirty jokes at the dinner table. If he were, he would be sitting between her legs, kissing under her chin as she read aloud to him when he couldn't sleep. If he were, they would be loving in a manner that she would never grow tired of.
But he wasn't.
And that was the moment she knew.
"Where's Evan?" She whispered into the air. Hoping her voice would reach the others, even though they were only inches away from her.
Regulus was the one to answer in a quick beat. "Never picked up his phone. Probably passed out at the office again."
Humming, she closed her eyes, "Barty does that a lot." Silence wrapped around them for a moment. Pitch blackness behind her eyelids. More memories floating to the surface. Ones she didn't hate but they still left a burn mark on her chest.
Last year, her twentieth birthday, everyone was standing around her, singing "Happy birthday to you" but there wasn't anything missing that year like there was this year.
Barty was behind her, kissing up the side of her neck, hands in that spot he loved so much on her hips. Whispering the song to her in her ear like it was their little secret even though thirty of their shared friends gathered around them to watch the candles be blown out. How would she have ever known that just two months later, he would be a ghost in their house?
Long after Regulus and Pandora left, she found herself wanting to be out in the freshness of the outdoors. But she did not want to pull herself out of bed (the sofa), so she relented and decided to just crack a window and put on her favourite comfort movie. The night growing nearer, she kept her eyes on the door like she did the night before, but there was something different this time. Like she knew that it wouldn't open.
It was a bitter feeling, but one she seemed rather accepting to. It was as if it was building in her for those ten months where Barty had promised he'd show, and promised he'd be there just to break them.
And when the door did not open for the rest of the night, a sad smile crossed her face. It was over. And she would be okay.
He called her later. The sight of his name with the million hearts he put after it was like a bucket of cold water splashed over her head, but she didn't hesitate to slide the screen and answer like second nature.
God, his voice. So deep and gravelly over the line. It didn't matter to her that he was somewhat hard to hear with all the background noise, she was just glad he reached out. Glad he was calling her instead of her making the move to get ahold of him.
"I'm sorry I didn't make it."
The apology was days late and it seemed sincere enough that maybe she could forgive him, but she wouldn't. It wouldn't be good for her to do so and that was proved when another voice filtered through the speaker, sounding unintentional, but still present. "Bart, our reservation is ready."
"Okay, love." Those two words were mumbled as he undeniably put a hand over the speakers to block out the sound, but it didn't work. "You there?"
She didn't speak. She couldn't. He was out with someone else, someone she knew. Someone she was friends with. Someone she claimed to be her close friend. Someone who was supposed to be with her today, but wasn't because he wasn't answering his phone. More than likely because he was in bed with Barty.
Even though this was shocking news and rather heartbreaking, she didn't shed a tear. She refused. For almost a year, they had been so distant and barely speaking a word. It makes sense, now to know that he was seeing someone else. Everything all clicks into place.
But it doesn't make it hurt less. All she knew was that she would be okay, she would get through it all with her friends by her side and countless cries in the bathroom on the floor that really needed a clean.
One thing was definite, though. She could not forgive him. She couldn't allow him back into her home that they shared, into her sheets that they loved in. There was no way she would be able to be strong enough to kick him out.
Flashes of her standing in her party dress. Lipstick coated lips taunt between her lips as she watched the door with her glass of whiskey. All her friends dancing and laughing in the space she was supposed to be with him, not one glance at anyone else in the room to impress. There wasn't a day where she would ever want to relive that moment ever again.
And so she said: "I'm sorry, too." Hanging up and clicking off the tele to go back to bed.
She would be okay.
That was the moment she knew.