A Decent Cup of Tea

Again. She was here again.

My attention was fixed on the graphite surface beneath my fists. They weren't clenched in anger, or at least not the conventional type you would most likely associate with the action. A flash of red, a battle cry, a war wound. No, far from it. They were frustrated in their concern. Frustrated in sorrow.

She was here again, and why? Why, I never needed to ask. I never would, and yet she would talk. I could all but listen and nod, offering her small smiles of comfort or a warm touch of concern. I would watch as she poured her heart out into the room and into my eyes; watch with a heavy heart as tears spilled from her eye lids and down her cheeks, dripping from her chin and down into the lukewarm cup between her finger tips.

My frown remained etched into my face as I slowly lifted the silver kettle, steam erupting from the neck as I poured the liquid into two weathered cups. One would stay full tonight, no matter what. It always did, despite my utmost attempts to drain it. I sighed softly as I set the now light object back onto its stand, and began stirring the two containers of scolding liquid while watching the colours swirl. White into clear into black; milk into water into tea. So simple yet somewhat hard to perfect.

I carefully clutched the two cups, ignoring the burning sensation sinking into my fingers, and made my way to the doorway of the small, cluttered kitchen. I took a deep breath in the darkness, before stepping into the brightly lit living room attached. My gaze remained on the dull, cream coloured carpet as I approached the matching sofa, where her small frame was sitting. I glanced up to find her back was to me, and her head was bowed as she watched her hands sitting on her lap, fingers interlocked and fighting with one another. I swallowed nervously, softly padding closer and catching her attention.

Bewildered eyes turned to me, before a weak smile graced her lips. I returned it, just as hollow in its comfort as hers was. I handed her the cup in my right hand, the one with milk and one sugar. I had memorised her preferences long ago. It was difficult to forget after the amount of times we had been through this, and yet here we were again.

I moved to sit on the armchair opposite her, my eyes exploring her with curiosity. She seemed to be more fragile than ever, her face sunken into her frown, her eyes darker than usual, her shoulders hunched over as she rested the cup onto her knee. Again she glanced up to me, and I smiled softly at her, before setting my own tea on the coffee table infront of us.

"You musicians have it so easy."

I breathed out a short chuckle, amused. A glimmer of a her humour, a spark of hope as she kept her spirits up. Though, just for tonight, she would let them fall, before they would soar back into the sky by the morning light of tomorrow. Just for tonight she would wrap herself in her sorrows and let me take them away from her.

"So I would like to think," I responded lightly, my voice depicting each syllable clearly, a crisp edge to my tone. Sometimes it annoyed me that I spoke in such received pronunciation. Other times I was embarrassed when it slipped much to far away. I preferred it when it hovered somewhere nicely between the two.

"And always so cocky," she responded bluntly, her more relaxed accent flowing smoothly past my ears. I smiled to myself as I sat back in the worn armchair, sinking into it's large back. My eyes closed lightly for a moment as I soaked in the familiar comfort, allowing my muscles to mould around the plump cushions surrounding me, before a light sigh escaped my lips.

"... Are you still drinking?"

Silence. I opened my eyes lazily and set my gaze one her quiet, still form. She slowly bought the ceramic mug up to her lips, breathing softly onto it's scolding hot surface before sipping carefully. I watched expectantly as she slowly lowered the cup down to rest tentatively on her knees.

"It still hurts," she muttered after a moment, indirectly telling me her answer. Her tone and response almost appeared to be shameful of the act in question, although I knew much better than that. I couldn't easily forget all the times I would run into her while on her nightly drowning sessions; stumbling about the bars and joining me in cars home. She was never ashamed of her actions, and she would always justify them with confidence. With her need for the toxins in her veins, to stop the pain that never did seem to end.

I nodded lightly as I crossed my hands over my body, interlocking my fingers and not saying a word. I wasn't there to judge her, I simply listened to her. That was why she was here, and why she would only ever come to me. Why she would cling longingly to my arm as we sat pushed together in friends cars, carrying many more than was usually possible. Why her intoxicated words would tumble into my ear and tell me all her secrets of her night or of the week. It was all I could do to listen. Just listen.

"Hey," she started again, my gaze lightly travelling over to her on command. "Do you remember Ben?"

I tilted my head in thought, my dark grey orbs setting themselves on the ceiling. Ben. The name attached the image of a tall, dark haired stranger. An over friendly introduction and a suspicious smile. My gaze fell back down to my dear friend before me, before I inclined my head.

"I thought he was different, you know?" She mumbled softly, a sadistic, saddened smile claiming her lips before she bowed her head. "I really thought it this time."

I nodded again and looked over her solemnly. Her usual spark had long since burnt out this evening, her hair framing her face much more lifelessly than it should of, shielding her expression from me. Hiding that subtle beauty she possesses. The one that attracts so many heartless men to her reserved composure and loving smile.

"But he was just like the rest," she spoke clearly this time, her voice strong despite its hopelessness. "Just another bastard wanting a good time."

Her bitter tone made me refrain from nodding again. I simply sat motionless as she rose her gaze to meet the plain, Mongolia tinted wall opposite her. She sighed deeply, all her lost hope and pain flowing out through her lips and tugging at my heart. She was broken again, waiting for the next tall, dark stranger to come and mend her just as crookedly as the one before him. Used and reused.

"I just... I just wanted someone, you know?" She asked again, desperation seeping into her voice as shimmering eyes turned to me. "I want someone. I don't want to be alone all the God damn time."

I frowned deeply as her voice cracked, tears finally making their escape down her pale cheeks. I slowly sat forward, leaning across to place hand comfortingly over hers, still clutching that cup of tea. Her head bowed once more as the salty liquid dropped from her chin, falling into the half empty cup and creating ripples through the warm liquid.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, a nervous smile fluttering over her face. She hurriedly rose her other hand to wipe away the teardrops still escaping her crystal blue eyes, before returning it back to clutch the cup still sitting idle on her knee. I shook my head slowly, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand soothingly.

"Don't be," I spoke softly, trying to heal her with my tone. "Never say you're sorry."

A grateful smile fluttered across her face once more as she turned to me. Her gaze met with mine, her cheeks slightly flushed from her physical outlet of feelings. We watched each other for a moment before her sad smile grew, her hand resting underneath mine shifting away.

"You're so good to me," she said with a light chuckle, her hand raising up to cup my face. Her gaze swam through mine for a moment, as she ran her thumb lightly across my cheek a few times, similar to my own action previously. I remained still under her contact, before her hand moved away again and that small smile fell from her lips.

"The weathers been nice recently, hasn't it?"

I smiled to myself and nodded slowly at her comment. Just like that, her concern appeared fleeting and unimportant.

"We should go away again," she added, turning her now bright smile to me. "Wasn't it fun last year?"

I nodded again. "It was," I confirmed, making her smile grow as mine mirrored it. No matter what, she always had ways to make me remember her in her teenage years. Her playful, bright smile and adventurous nature. Her persistence that we go away every year for a break with a few close friends. Her problems with men. Nothing ever changed, and some of it I was happy for. Some of it troubled me.

"You never dated Sian in the end, did you?" She enquired lightly, before sipping on her tea. I shook my head slowly as the freckled, red head appeared in my minds eyes. She had been very beautiful. A wonderful smile.

"No, it wasn't right," I responded effortlessly, leaning back in my chair once more as Sian's expression fled from memory. She smiled over at me knowingly, and I helplessly returned it.

"'Right.' That's always your excuse," She said teasingly, making me smile. "But, when will you know what is right, if you never try?" She asked curiously, her gaze falling onto the glass coffee table where my tea was still sitting. I had no doubts in my mind it was stone cold by now. It didn't bother me.

"I guess I won't know."

She chuckled softly. "You're the oddest man I've ever met," she spoke softly, the smile on her lips unmatched by any other. It was vain to say it, but it was rare to see her smile like that, and somehow they always made their appearance in my presence. Her statement wasn't strictly true, in any case, but it didn't bother me her saying so.

She leaned forward from the sofa, shuffling onto it's edge as she placed her empty cup on the coffee table, beside mine. My eyes settled on them for a moment, one full of caramel liquid and the other drained clean. It depicted the image at the end of every night we spent together.

"I better be going."

Another nod in response, as she slowly pulled herself to her feet. I followed suit, somewhat regretfully. And now came the time that she would leave me to go and sit in her apartment alone, drinking from liquor bottles and thinking of where to go next. She'd continue like that for days, weeks, until it came to her next big night out. There she would find a new stranger to steal her heart, who would use her and leave her before the week was through. Same time next week, she would knock on my door, asking for nothing but a warm welcome and an open mind. And I'd give it to her, just as she wanted.

We walked together into the hall, and I pulled her coat from hanging beside the door. She smiled gratefully at me as she took it from my grasp, wrapping it around her petite frame and tightening the belt to make it fit. I approached the door and stopped to take it from it's latch, as she followed me timidly. I turned to face her and she looked away nervously.

"Thanks again," she spoke softly. "It really is hard to find someone who can make a decent cup of tea, these days."

I smiled and inclined my head. "That's why I'm here," I responded honestly. "I always will be."

A smile edged its way across her lips as her gaze rose to meet with mine. "Really, though, thank you," she enforced, taking my words as light fairy tales simply meant to comfort her. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I didn't respond, causing her to timidly dropped her gaze. This was how it always went with us, and I feared more than anything this was how it always would be. In truth, I achieved nothing each night that she would come to me in her troubled state. If I achieved anything, she would finally hold onto the one man who could treat her right. Within a few weeks, I'm proven useless again as she is left broken once more. If only she could see. If only she truely listened to my words. If only I spoke them a little clearer.

I slowly opened the door, standing back to allowed her to step out into the cold night air. She looked out over the shadowed street for a moment, before turning on her heels and meeting her gaze with mine. It hurt to think we'd be going through this again. It hurt to think how many more times it would happen.

"Well, goodnight," she spoke sincerely. I smiled as she moved confidently forward to wrap her arms around my neck, my hands carefully settling on her back.

"Goodnight," I returned softly, her body leaving mine a minute later to stand in my doorway once more. We shared simple eye contact and a light smile for a moment before she slowly stepped away from the door, turning around cleanly and starting her trip back home. I watched her as she walked, as I did every night she left me. I watched her return to the place where she didn't matter to anyone, and her world was left cold because of it.

If only she'd stay, just one night, then maybe she'd finally listen. Perhaps she'd finally see.