Casey POV
I sit at the bar, late into the night, not really wanting another drink but ordering one anyways. The bartender passed me the glass, along with a sympathetic look, but instead of downing its contents like I did all the other, I fiddled with the cup. I had come here to drown my feelings, yet again. It was hard, working so relentlessly everyday, and then going home to an empty apartment to sit and be lonely. I didn't want to be lonely anymore, but what choice did I have? The only one I ever wanted to be with was one tall, dark, beautiful detective. But she had no clue about me. Why does it always work this way, wanting what you can't have? For what seemed like the millionth time that night, I went for my glass to erase my sadness. This time I paused to raise my glass to no one in particular. "Here's to you, Olivia Benson."
Olivia POV
I'm sitting at the bar, late at night, watching you order another drink. That has to be your fourth one tonight. I wonder if you're thinking about what I'm thinking about. How you go home to an empty apartment every night like I do. How you're lonely like I am. I've thought about it many times, but there is always one thing that stops me from going over to you. The fear that, in the end, I'll get hurt. So every night, I watch you, and I make my choice. And every night, I choose to be alone. Problem is, although I'm worried about getting my heart broken, it's already too late for that. Every time I watch you, it breaks a little more, as I think about what we could have. But not anymore. I order a drink. I'm tired of going home to an empty apartment every night. I don't want to be lonely anymore. I raise my glass in your direction. "Here's to you, Casey Novak."
Casey POV
As I'm finishing my drink, I decide that it is time to head home, as lonely as it might be. I shove a few bills across the bar and gather my things. I walk out the door and I'm just about to hail a cab when I feel a hand on my shoulder and a voice in my ear. "Casey." I turn and it's you. Of course it's you. I had finally succeeded in pushing you to the back of my mind until the morning, and now my mind was suddenly on overdrive, filled with thoughts of you. Just my luck of course, because you are going to say "Fancy running into you here," and then "See you tomorrow," and then leave and let me go on my way back to my empty apartment. Only now, I definitely won't be able to push you out.
"Why hello Olivia."
I find myself responding to you, although I know the best thing would be to pretend I'm tired and just get on with being lonely. But I don't.
"What brings you here tonight?"
Nothing, you say, it's just a place you use to unwind. Something we have in common. Great. Which means I can safely bet I will see you here again. Even better, I think bitterly. I'll never get over you now. But then you ask me if I want a ride home. And again, even though I shouldn't, I accept. So we get into the car, and I wonder if the lonely are ever supposed to feel like they are on cloud nine.
Olivia POV
I finish my drink quickly and give a couple bills to the bartender. I see you get up and leave so I rush out to catch you before you hail a cab. I'm thinking about what to do, what to say, since I'd never actually run after someone in an effort to tell them that I love them before. I catch up with you, call your same, and hope that you don't get in that cab that is headed down the street towards us. You turn toward me, and I don't know what to do. I need to talk to you desperately, but I can't find the words in me. Not out here in the open like this. So I offer you a ride back to your apartment. I reason with myself, growing more nervous by the minute. Right, that will work. I can say that you're on my way that I really wouldn't feel right leaving you to take a cab when I'm right here, that- Oh. You've said yes. Well in that case, I'll just walk you to my car… Where was that initiative that I had earlier? The voice that told me that I would be able to tell you everything. Oh. Right. I actually talked to you instead of playing it out in my head. Crap. I need to work on that. But as soon as we get into the car, I feel something else. I wonder, are the lonely ever supposed to feel like they are on cloud nine?