{ scars and souvenirs } // zach&hanj

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{ scars and souvenirs } // zach&hanj Jan 1, 2017 1:27:19 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2017 1:27:19 GMT -5

ZACHARIAS

The bar is silent.

It's usually like this every year, Erwin and the rest usually go out for New Years -- they invite me, and it warms me heart and cools it back down when I deny. Hanji usually comes with me, sits down at the bar of lonely souls and we'd share mutt talk; her laughing, me sitting, it's nice. She didn't come this year, but that's okay! Just Sidney and I, the ring on my finger cool as I raise the first glass.

Oh well.

And it's always a sinking feeling, when it's just him and I, the glass reflecting my sunken face -- there's so many questions. Empty answers of where things went awry, I need him, and he needed me.

"A toast to us," a whisper, into my glass.

We drown together, Sidney.

Last Edit: Jan 18, 2017 0:46:06 GMT -5 by Deleted

arx
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Pronouns: she/her
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literally so gay, doing so many crimes

{ scars and souvenirs } // zach&hanj Jan 17, 2017 16:26:29 GMT -5

Post by arx on Jan 17, 2017 16:26:29 GMT -5

HANJI ZOË

"Bit by bit, torn apart, we never win
but the battle wages on for toy soldiers"

In truth, I hadn't planned on going. Liquor doesn't always agree with me and the way it sets a haze over my eyes and a damper on my mind frustrates me. But I was wrong to say no to this drink. My experiments can wait. It's New Years Eve! Pretty sure there's a social rule about drinking until you make some ridiculous resolution you'll forget about after a week.

Or maybe it's drinking to forget what an awful year it's been?

I can't remember which.

That's why I always go out with Mike. Though I've never had much of a problem being alone on a holiday, something tells me that he never really should be.

So I don't even bother being subtle. I burst through the doors and find him sitting at the bar alone, just as he always is. I throw my arms around him as he throws back what's in his glass–"Bartender! I'll have two of whatever he's having!"–and laugh as I take my seat next to him.

"Hope you didn't think you could get rid of me so easy," I say with a grin, squinting my eyes and smelling his hair before he can protest.

He smells nice.

table by elegant

"I run on the road, long before I dance under the lights."

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{ scars and souvenirs } // zach&hanj Feb 23, 2017 18:28:25 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2017 18:28:25 GMT -5

ZACHARIAS

I have to admit, I like to imagine I'm cooler than I am.

Splashing alcohol around, a thin ring slipping between creases in the glass - I can't say I'm lonely. Or at least that I am not used to it, this is equilibrium for me, is it not? Another question, I'll have to ask Sidney when I see him again, hopefully I can remember them all. The ring fits tight around my thumb; guess my fingers have gotten fatter over a decade. God, I'm depressing, no wonder this bar is only shared between myself and high heaven's.

The bartender coughs awkwardly into his hand,

"Another, please."

"Gotcha Zacharias."

I'm a regular apparently; is that sad? Spending Ratmas on my own, I came a few days ago, guess it's might not be that hard to forget a name in five days - lord knows I've tried. Isn't that wild? The weight in a name, it can't matter that much. As the bartender leans under the counter top I sniff his hair, dry shampoo and sweat, can't say I'm surprised. Hot hair. Maybe it's from thinking too much about memorizing names, I doubt I should ask -- it'll just be something I'll wait on.

"Haven't I seen you a little too much this month, Zachie?"

"Ha," a sullen laugh, "I assume."

And I've long forgotten his name, how strange. Maybe it's because he's locked here more so than I, for a second I'm aware of how I'm only a product of consumption: income for him, obsession for me. I should tell him to wash his hair more thoroughly, he hands me a shot.

He leans on the bar counter top as he turns on the television, a woman with an afro dancing on screen. Saxophone, a singing- I don't think much of it. Desolate little things, taking a throat full of bubbly liquor - he seems interested. Maybe I should work on remembering his name, like how Hanji remembers all of their mutts. I think it's started boring them- they've moved on to memorizing the games mutts. Those aren't even related to them, but I guess that's a step to moving on.

A new fascination.

("I have to go-"

"stay forever, Miche.")

I zone out for a bit. My hand frozen on the shot glass after a weak shot, numb but alive, I'm aware of my own breathing- I'm aware. I

"Bartender! I'll have two of whatever he's having!"

I'm sorry.

"Huh-"

"Hope you didn't think you could get rid of me so easy," wide eyes, I nearly scream. Arm hooked around my neck, a daze in my body I can't snap out of quick enough, "Sidn-" More of a yell, a statement than a question - they sit beside me, squinting and smiling and sniffing me. I don't have time to question further, don't have time to understand if I should or not.

"Hanji." I stare.

They came, not enough questions suddenly, and I feel like I can't react fast enough for them, Hanji getting adjusted in her seat while I still focus on where her arm pushed aside me. They still smile as the bartender hands them two shots, a confused nod as they pour me a third.

"Did I smell nice." My mouth ajar, twisting the ring with my thumb.

I think I'll stay after all.