A Quiet Life Denied

The karaoke bar was a glorious, sticky disaster. Flashing neon lights painted the room in garish shades of pink and blue, glinting off half-empty glasses and the sweat-slick faces of tone-deaf patrons screaming into microphones. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, desperation, and the lingering ghost of a burnt onion ring.

It was, in Emphera's esteemed opinion, paradise.

"AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII…" she bellowed into a half-empty water bottle, one arm slung dramatically around Lena's shoulders, "WILL ALWAYS… LOVE… HIC… YOUUUUUU!"

Lena giggled, swaying so hard she nearly took them both down. She propped her chin on her hand, her vision a pleasant, swimming blur. The tiny paper umbrella in her drink looked like a palm tree on a distant, very wobbly island.

"I'm an artist," Emphera corrected, her voice full of magnificent, unearned pride. "The microphone simply cannot comprehend my raw talent." She took a long, triumphant swig of her drink, missed her mouth slightly, and dribbled a trail of brightly colored liquid down her chin. "Oops."

They collapsed into another fit of giggles, the sound swallowed by the bar's chaotic symphony. For a while, they were quiet, watching a man in a business suit passionately murder a classic rock ballad on stage.

Then, Lena's giggles subsided, replaced by a deep, dramatic sigh. Her bright mood deflated like a sad balloon.

"Em…" she began, her voice small and wobbly.

"Lena…" Emphera mimicked, her tone equally dramatic. "What troubles your pure, maiden heart?"

Lena scowled, poking her drink with a straw. "It's him," she mumbled.

"Him who? The guy on stage? I agree, his rendition is a crime against humanity."

"No," Lena huffed, turning to face her friend, her expression a perfect portrait of drunken misery.

She took a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, and lowered her voice into a flat, monotone drone. "Oh, I'm tired," she mimicked, her imitation of Franz both terrible and, to her, deeply profound. "And does he think we're retarded or something? That we didn't see him!" She hiccupped, pointing a wobbly finger at Emphera. "I saw him. He looked right at Orion, and he said, 'Take them away from me'. With his mouth! No sound! Like a spy!"

She pushed herself upright, wobbling dangerously in her chair. "Tell me, Emphera. Tell me the truth! He doesn't like me, right? Am I not pretty enough?"

Her wide, glassy eyes filled with unshed tears as she leaned across the table, practically shoving her pout into her friend's face.

Emphera blinked slowly, swaying with the rhythm of her own intoxication. Her cheeks were pink, her words dragging out like she was talking through syrup. "Lenaaaa… listen to me. You are very pretty. Very, very pretty. And also… hiccup… very kind." She nodded to herself, proud of the sentiment. "But who are we talking about again?"

Lena's eyes widened in dramatic betrayal. "Who else?! Franz Kafka!" she nearly shouted, smacking her palm against the table for emphasis. The glasses rattled dangerously.

Emphera winced, covering her ears. "Owww… okay, okay! Franz Kafka with his… scary blue eyes and heavy… heavy name." She giggled, trying to say it again and failing. "Fraaanz Kaaaf-kaaah."

"I thought he liked me too," Lena sniffled, her pout trembling as she reached for another drink. She missed the glass completely, her hand landing in a puddle of condensation. She didn't care. "You saw him! In the kitchen. Flirting with me. He looked at me like—like I was special!"

Her voice cracked. "I thought I found him. The man of my dreams." She slammed a finger onto the table for emphasis. "He's got the body. He's got the height. He helped Celeste's mom. He—"

Lena broke into sudden, violent sobs, her head dropping into her arms. Words slipped out between hiccups and muffled cries. "He even showed me his d—"

Emphera's glass stopped halfway to her lips. "Wait. WHAT?" Her eyes widened like saucers. "What did he do? That bastard. With my innocent Lena?"

Lena didn't answer. She turned her head away dramatically, refusing to meet Emphera's eyes. Her lower lip quivered, exaggerating her sadness to almost comedic levels.

Emphera gasped so hard she almost choked on her own breath. "No… no no no. Tell me right now. He didn't touch you, right?"

Lena sniffled, still refusing to look at her.

"Lena." Emphera's tone was dead serious now—or as serious as a drunk girl could manage. She reached out, shaking her friend's shoulders with both hands. "Where. Did. He. Touch. You."

Lena raised her finger slowly, as if she were pointing out the killer in a murder mystery. Then she pressed it against her own waist.

Emphera's jaw dropped.

Her hands slapped the table, rattling the glasses again. "That's it! I've had enough!" she declared, her voice booming with drunk righteousness. "That motherfucker used you for your body and then threw you away like trash!"

Lena blinked, dazed. "Huh?"

"Don't huh me!" Emphera shot up from her seat, wobbling as her knees buckled beneath her. She steadied herself on the table, glaring into the middle distance like she was about to lead an army into battle. "I won't stand for this. Not my Lena. Not my pretty, kind, innocent Lena."

She grabbed Lena's hand and tugged her up with surprising strength.

"Wha—ahhh! Where are we going?!" Lena squealed as she stumbled after her, barely managing to stay upright.

"To make him pay!" Emphera announced, puffing her chest out. "He doesn't get to mess with my bestie and walk away like some mysterious, tragic anime boy! Not on my watch!"

The two of them wobbled out of the bar like soldiers marching to war—except their battlefield was the uneven cobblestones of the street, and their weapons were half-empty bottles of cheap wine they'd stolen off the table.

Lena stumbled against Emphera's shoulder, her words tumbling out in a slurry mess. "But—but he's tall, and he's strong, and he's… hiccup… scary."

"Don't worry!" Emphera said, practically dragging her along. "I'm scarier when I'm drunk. Ask anyone."

Lena blinked owlishly. "R-really?"

"Yup!" Emphera nodded so hard she almost fell over. "One time I got drunk and scared off a raccoon. That raccoon never came back. I am a menace to society when I'm like this."

Lena burst into drunken giggles, clutching her stomach. "A raccoon?!"

"Yes!" Emphera stomped her foot for emphasis. "Do you know how scary raccoons are? They're like… like little thieves in the night. Evil masterminds. And I… hiccup… I made it run."

The image of Emphera drunkenly chasing a raccoon sent Lena into uncontrollable laughter. She leaned against a lamppost, gasping for breath between fits of giggles. "You're ridiculous."

Emphera grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Now come on. Let's go find the bastard and make him regret."

"Wait… right now?!" Lena squeaked, but Emphera was already dragging her down the street again, stumbling, laughing, and shouting threats at the night sky.

A/N

Thanks for reading. Please comment and tell me your opinions.

XOXO