Ruined moments?

Despite our history, there you were, looking at me, eyes glittering under the fairy lights, licking your lower lips. I kept looking around the room trying to find an anchor which I would use to come back to reality in case anything ever became too much. Searching around the room trying to find the perfect thing to use as an anchor, I kept wondering if you were wondering what I was looking for or if I was having a psychotic breakdown because the longer I could not find my anchor, the more I flickered a bit. I finally found it though, but it was on you all along. It was your gold plated earring. I kept on telling myself that no matter how things went, no matter what happened, whenever it started getting too unreal for my liking, I would just look at your earring and use them as an anchor; an anchor back to real life.

Now we were sitting on the top of the bed with the awkwardness so thick and juicy that it could be cut with a knife. I took a huge gulp of the gin mixture in the cup in my left hand. It tasted awful but I still forced myself to swallow it and went back in for more. You on the other hand, took your wine glass, took a sip of whatever drink was in your glass. Was it gin or was it Sourz? Or was it VK? I had completely lost count after the fifth drink you had in there but it was all your fault. You had prior to the drinking cornered me in the kitchen, technically held a knife on my throat and told me that whenever I saw your glass empty or going towards empty, I should immediately fill it back up which I kept doing the entire evening. I even spent most of my night just pouring you drinks because I was not about to fail the first thing you asked of me and also because you kept on chugging the drinks faster than I could keep up.

Just as the tension was grew heavier than a rock, I remember that I had something in my bag which I was saving for a special occasion. This did count as a special occasion so why not. I downed the last bit of gin in my glass, just to clear it and dragged out a bottle of an 18 year old whiskey from my bag.

“I was saving this for a special occasion,” I said as I studied the detailing on the bottle closely.

“Really? So is this a spe-“ and before she could finish her sentence, her face changed a bit and she began to gag. I knew what was about to happen so I looked around the room for something to place under her. I found a black small plastic dustbin at the edge of the room and placed it next to us. I then pulled her hair backwards so it would not get in her way and away she went into the dustbin. It must have been a long time with her puking because I began to worry. ‘If she continues puking this way, she is going to get seriously dehydrated,’ I thought to myself.

As I thought this, she managed to stabilise her and stopped puking for a little bit to squeeze in a few words. “Hey Jo, I am sorry for this. I usually don’t puke. I know I must’ve rui-“ and again she went. I knew she thought she had ruined the moment but I was not gonna stop her from puking just to let her know that she did not. I would tell her the next so I continued stroking her hair and back with the occasional “there, there” thrown into the strokes. Deep down, despite all that happen, I knew that in that moment, there was no place I would have rather been.

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