The Light.

The sun was sinking behind the buildings, slipping drunkenly slowly, the caramel colour illuminating her face. She flicked the cigarette out, and stood back up, slipping into the party again. People were drunk, passed out on the steps; high, slurring their words and reaching for another beer. She cringed. What was the big deal about alcohol and drugs at a party. Couldn’t it be like when she was five again?

She scanned the room for anything interesting, and realised there was nothing. Her friends were all in the kitchen, talking and laughing, and he was nowhere to be found. So she just stepped back out onto the terrace, closing her eyes as the moon slipped over her, and the stars twinkled. She could hear city traffic below, hurling past at forty, fifty, seventy miles an hour. For a moment, she wanted to stop time just so she could count all the stars.

Birthdays weren’t all that great, was her thing. Sure, when you’re five and playing Pin The Tail on The Donkey; sixteen and saving up for that shitty car you’ve wanted since you were fifteen; eighteen and you can buy your first legal pack of Newports. Not, however, when you were twenty-three and tired and sick of the same old thing. A birthday party is no different from your average Friday night party after you turn twenty-one.

She continued counting stars and wishing on them. One, I’ll fall in love, Two, I’ll stay in love, Three, the world will come to peace, Four, maybe I’ll have kids, Five, we’ll grow up- the sliding glass door slipped open, and she kept her eyes closed as fingers wrapped around them. Breathing was slow and icy in the chilly night, and her painted red lips curled upwards. “What do you want?” He pulled his fingers away as she turned around.

“You’re not happy,” he whispered, chin tilting upwards in curiosity, his eyes sparkling a little.

“Sure I am,” she shrugged. He studied her graceful features for a few seconds, that seemed to turn into hours under his glazed look.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re too quiet, doll. What’ wrong?” She shrugged again.

“No-“

“Don’t say nothing,” he interrupted. “I hate liars more than anything in the entire world, you know that.” Her lips trembled, and her fingers clasped around the hem of her shirt, eyes twinkling with tears.

“I just don’t like birthdays anymore,” she muttered. “They just the same old thing. And there’s nothing – I mean, no one here.”

“What do you mean?” he questioned, puzzled. “Kor, Beej – they’re all here, the guys…?”

She laughed, wiping at her eyes before the mascara would smear. She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” she mumbled. There was silence for a minute, before he spoke again, his mouth dropping open, a delayed breath seeping out.

“Oh…”

She rolled her eyes, temper flaring up. “Oh. Fucking, oh.” His gaze hardened, and his mouth opened again.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Alison? There’s not very much, you know? It’s… it’s awkward.”

“Of course it’s awkward, you fucktard, you never try and pursue anything,” she growled, shoving past him. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him again. “Let me go, Jimmy. Now.”

“Ali.”

“What?” she tilted her chin upwards in stubbornness, sticking her lip out a tiny bit.

“Be reasonable,” he whispered. “I’m horrified.”

“Of what?!” she exclaimed, “What could you possibly be fucking horrified of? I’m a person, not a fucking monster, James. God.” She pulled her arm away, and shoved past him. He tried to protest again, but she was already inside.

She talked to the girls. Distracted herself from the alcohol and the people, and him especially. She avoided things as best she could; his eyes drilling into her skull, making her suddenly translucent, her whole skeletal system bared for him. Finally, everybody left, a kiss on her cheek from her friends as they filed out.

He was the only one standing there.

“Party’s over,” she announced, like he hadn’t known this. She took his shoulders, and started tugging him towards the door.

“I haven’t given you your present,” he smirked, eyes sparkling again. She cussed herself out for looking in them, momentarily.

“Mail it, bye.”

“Alison,” he growled. “Please.”

“Please what? Step out the door, yes.”

“Alison.”

She rolled her eyes, and nodded. “Okay. Fine.” He grinned in victory.

“Okay, but you have to close your eyes, okay?”

“Right,” she muttered. “You’ll probably stab a knife in my back or something.”

“Fuck, just close them, Ali,” he laughed. She closed her eyes unwillingly, and heard rustling. She inhaled, waiting impatiently.

“You’re not setting anything on fire, right?” she questioned, sniffing. “Because you’re paying the insurance, hear me?”

He laughed again, not responding, and finally, he told her she could open her eyes. She gasped. “You… that’s, it’s so…”

He waited for her to find the right adjectives, as she admired the necklace, while it glinted in the moonlight softly, occasionally sending shadows flickering on the walls now and then. “It’s so gorgeous, Jimmy. Fuck, you shouldn’t have…”

“I needed to find a way, a way to make you know that I am sorry.”

“For what?” she asked sharply, looking up at him.

“For… messing things up, because that’s what I did, when I said we shouldn’t… be together. That was… that was stupid; stupid it was stupid.”

“What’s your biggest fear?” she asked him, closing her eyes as he slipped the tiny sapphire necklace on, closing the clasp. His breath made designs on the back of her neck as he thought out the answer.

“That… That you won’t be at the end of the tunnel.”

“That’s not possible,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re my light, I have to be waiting at the end for you.”

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled happily.

And she smiled.