Denial.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" he asks in that saccharine tone as she stares down her umpteenth shot of the night. She ignores him, refuses to meet his gaze. She can't stand his sympathy and he can fuck himself if he thinks that she wants his pity. She'd never admit that she's afraid to meet his gaze, startled by his unvoiced expectations reflecting back at her. In his eyes she sees things that she had wanted once but knows that she can not have. Shouldn't even want. She learnt the hard way that people only ever give a fuck about themselves so she hates that she even imagines that he might be any different. Her fingers twitch; she wants to knock that dumb ass expression right off of his face. Instead she answers with a single word, knocking back the shot as a punctuation.

"Never."