Battling the Loss You Live For.

Sazzy’s Point of View
I laughed at the look on Frank’s face, as did numerous other people. Looking around the room, I didn’t really recognise most of them.
I saw Ray, Gerard, Mikey, Sophii, Nyona and Matt – who I had met last week – and the guys of Pencey Prep; Tim, Shaun, Hambone (who had picked up Pansy to bring, in order to lure Frank here) and Neil. There were others that I’d only just really been introduced to a few days ago, like Geoff Rickly from this band called Thursday.
“Oh my God, you guys!” Frank cried, a huge grin stretching over his lips, his adorable hazel eyes sparkling with happiness. He squeezed at my hand, his smile, like an infection, spread over the room as someone cried “par-tay time!” as The Misfits’ ‘Famous Monsters’ album instantly blearing around the huge, grey room. It wasn’t exactly decorated, someone had more or less grabbed a huge bag of confetti and thrown it around.
“Did you plan all of this?”
His whisper startled me, his warm breath on my ear, bouncing onto my cold neck.
“I… no-not really,” I mumbled, my eyes glued to his lips. He was so close to me, his face just millimetres away from mine. It had been a while since I felt these bubbly feelings, erupting in the bit of my stomach, the butterflies fluttering around inside me. He moved even closer, his fingers touching the crook of my neck so gently, I only knew he did because of the tingling sensation he had left spreading over my skin.
“You’re so getting laid tonight.”
His lips curled up at the corners at my statement, before they pressed against mine softly, gentle again. He turned away, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of my hand as he stepped forward, into the crowd of people.
“Frank!”
“Sazzy!”
Both our names were called at practically the same time, making us whip our heads in the same direction, to the two people approaching us, glass bottles in both of their hands.
“Sophii!” I called, untangling my fingers from Frank’s, and engulfing her in a hug as she bounded up to us. She grinned at me, passing me one of the glass bottles in her hand.
“I know you can’t drink, so I got you-”
“I got you,” Mikey interjected, Sophii quickly flipping him off,
“A Coke,” she finished, smiling proudly.
“Aw, thanks!” I said, hugging her briefly and then Mikey. Mikey and Frank then turned to each other, immediately babbling away.
“Where’s Nyona?” I asked Sophii, who sipped on a bottle of cider. Her brow creased.
“Probably making out with Matt somewhere… or arguing with him, either way,” she said, shrugging.
“Arguing?”
“Yeah… it’s literally a love-hate relationship. They’re all lovey-dovey, then they start hating each other’s guts, giving each other the cold shoulder… it’s fucked up,” she said, sighing.
“How… and why?” I asked, confused. If they’re like this all the time, why bother with each other? I didn’t get it.
“I don’t really know… I just know he’s a fucking wanker. I don’t like him that much and I never did, and she knows. She knows what he’s like and what he’s capable of, but she just turns a blind eye to it all… I guess that the danger to him – if you can call it danger – attracts her to him,” she sipped on her cider again, a depth to her eyes. You could tell that she really didn’t like him.
“Danger? As in…?” I pressed, curious now. I’ve only been introduced to him, and didn’t really have an opinion on him. I didn’t know him.
He was a tall guy, with black-brown hair and stubble gracing his jaw. He had a silver bar through his left eyebrow, and dark brown eyes. I had noticed that he dressed quite simply – plain shirts and baggy dark jeans. He looked harmless.
“He’s just a prick,” she said, shrugging it off, ending the conversation.
“Let’s go find her, she can do whatever she wants to him later,” she said, taking my free hand and leading me around the room.
“Nigh-oh-nah!” Sophii called around the room, shouting over the thumping music. I sipped on my coke, looking around the room for her.
“Nyona!” I called, helping Sophii out.
“Where are you, you filthy northerner?!” Sophii called, shouting so loud people turned to give her a look.
“Fuck off, I’m British!” she cried, giving some of them the finger. I laughed at her, letting her lead me to the back.
“Aren’t you from the same place as her?” I asked, curious. Why would she cuss her own kind…? I guess she might, I do myself. But the way she said it, it didn’t seem that way.
“Fuck no, she’s from Lincoln and I’m from Leicester. I’m from the Midlands,” she said, shaking her head. I could only she the side of her face, and her lips turned up into a smile.
“Aint no way I’m from up north.”
I laughed at her sudden gangster-ness, letting her pull me along by my hand further into the room.
“Move out the fuckin’ way, we got a preggers kid over here!”
“Get ‘err outta here, then!” some guy yelled back at her, and she turned sharply towards the voice.
“You fuckin’ dick munching twat, come an’ say that to me face! It’s her boyfriend’s party, you wank-toss!”
“Sophii, its-”
“Hush up, Sazzy; they have to learn to shut their fuck-”
“Sophii?!” a voice called, the music turning a little lower.
“Nee…?” Sophii called back, turning in the opposite direction, sauntering over with me in tow.
“Nee!” Sophii called again, seeing a grinning Nyona by the music system, no Matt in sight.
“Sazzy!” she cried, hugging me tightly. I felt so happy; these kids just filled me with joy.
“Nee, this cock just-”
“I know, I’m already on it,” she said sharply, her eyes darkening to an almost black. Sophii grinned, almost mercilessly.
“Err… hang on, what are you guys planning?” I asked, a little hesitant to know. Nyona opened her mouth, but a voice thundered out, like a wail or a moan.
“I got him!”
Nyona shot off in the direction of the guy’s voice, Sophii laughing slightly.
“Where is she going?” I asked, confused.
“Nyona’s known for pretty much… well, like a gangster, pretty much. Most people wouldn’t want to cross her,” Sophii explained, and I took note of the emphasis on ‘most’.
“Then who is she…?” I mumbled, not really sure how to finish that sentence.
“That prick from before,” she said nonchalantly, shrugging.
I was a little dumbstruck.
“Don’t worry. She’s not like… part of the mafia. She’s from Lincoln,” she said. Well, it did fit. People from the northern part of Britain were pretty hardcore.
I let it drop.