The concert had already started when Clara and John arrived. Quietly they went down to the cellar where the stage was, and took a seat by the bar table.
"Can I get you something?" She noticed John gesture at the long row of bottles ahead of them.
"No way. It's me who invited you," she told him firmly, but he only smiled at her.
"A beer for me. And what would you recommend for this lovely lady?" he asked the barmaid who with a grin on her face passed him his pint.
He was quite a charmer, she had to admit. Not that she was in any form interested in him. She simply pointed out the obvious.
Without her approval, John bought her a fancy drink, which as the girl behind the bar stated contained vodka and watermelon juice and some others secret ingredients.
It was nice.
Everything was nice that evening, it even made her long again for the time in her life when she could afford things like this. Adulthood was anything but fun.
The music her best friend played now differed greatly from the one she remembered. It didn't remind her of dying octopus anymore. It was more modest and organised, if not sophisticated.
She felt the goose-bumps on her neck as they started a song about a chance meeting in a bar. She likely wasn't the only one, she noticed when John leant in and whispered They're good!to her ear.
"Fair point," she replied and begun her sixth drink that evening. She didn't intend to leave the club drunk. Sweet taste of the drinks made them hard to drop though.
"Wanna dance?" he asked her out of the blue, his mischievous stare fixed on hers as he did so.
"We're on the concert and nobody dances," she said. She never liked this kind of folks. People who don't behave appropriately to the situation. The club was tightly packed with the crowd and he was in mood for dancing.
"Well, I don't care. You wanted me to take it easy, so help me," he was adamant with his arms stretched out in inviting gesture. Sighing heavily, she rose from her seat and let him guide them closer to the stage.
To her terror, they changed the music to a slow, romantic tune. One that usually make couples cling to each other and singles storm out of the dance floor. John didn't mind it in slightest. He took her hand in his and took the lead. Suddenly all eyes in the room were fixed on them. How could they be not be when they just found a free entertainment?
She thought she would not like it - the sensation of his body so close to hers, his hot breath on the skin of her neck, but she did. It was very pleasant, combined with the alcohol which slowly started to take its toll on her. Drinking in his company was definitely a wrong idea, she concluded.
"You're not that bad at all," he said when the music subsided for a moment. His hand was still placed gently on her waist and kept her close to him.
"I didn't say I couldn't dance," she answered, smiling. "Have you managed to forget about you-know-who for a moment?" she added and instantly bit her tongue. It wasn't wise, mentioning his most sensitive spot like this.
To her surprise, he didn't seem to be offended. "Sort of," he mumbled instead. "Thanks for dragging me here, it's really great."
She was quite surprised when after the concert he agreed to attend the after party. He was the oldest person in the room, yet he didn't seem to be intimidated by that fact at all. He spoke to her friends, laughed at their jokes. Well, for most of the time it was him who joked but it didn't change the fact he blended in rather nicely.
She swore she left him only for a moment. She needed to go to the roof, find a place from which she could easily call Amy. Cold autumn air was anything but pleasant but she had to stand it, the place was the only one that was relatively quiet.
She couldn't believe her eyes when she went downstairs and noticed John, sitting among her friends in front of the telly with brownie in his hand and silly grin on his face. "Tell me you didn't eat them?" she cried out. It was more a hope than a question. His glassy eyes told her the truth straight away.
"Más despacio. ¿Cómo estás? I only ate four or five. They're really weird, Clara, " he gasped and returned to watching an episode of Noddy.
Without a word, she pulled him by his hand and guided him out of the room. "We're going home and for god's sake don't take food from strangers."
They were about to leave, or rather she was. He stood aimlessly supported on the wall and laughed at her while she did her best to help him with his jacket. "What's wrong?" she heard her friend and the owner of the flat call after them.
"Willie stoned John. I'm taking him home," she replied and begun to do the buttons of her coat.
"Do you want me to get you taxi?" her friend answered, rubbing his mop of hair gently.
"Little walk will do him good. Besides it's only fifteen minute walk. Thanks for asking, Connor." The man nodded and let her open the front door, John slowly followed her.
They didn't walk even five houses before John spoke again, claiming he was hungry. She ignored his plea at first, but he was cleverer than this, sat on the concrete stairs of one of the houses and insisted he wouldn't go anywhere else but a bar. He became even more specific, ordering her to look for fish and chips.
So there she was, seeking for fast food ten minutes to midnight.
"Happy?" she asked him as they sat by the table in McDonald's, the only restaurant in the neighbourhood open in the middle of the night. He didn't say anything but by the way he loaded chips into his mouth she could tell he was.
"More than happy. I'm in heaven," he said after a while and passed her the plate with chips.
She dug one of them in the ketchup and put it in her mouth. "How so?" she asked him.
"I see the light," he answered and began to guffaw again. His jokes officially remained understandable to no one else but him. "River would be glad to hear that. Oh, she hates me. She really, properly hates me," he added after a moment.
She was about to ask him why he thought so, but he was first. "She was always like this. Always independent. Always on her own. That's what being an orphan does to people. I was just a moron following her. Hoping I can save her. Change her into a woman I want her to become. If I met someone like you back then all would be different. But I dreamed about white whale and here I am instead."
"As granddad always said. Anything can happen when you're both still alive," she replied but it looked like he didn't want her comfort. He just shook his head with disgust etched on his face.
"Screw her and others like her. I needed someone made of flesh and blood. A real person to talk to. If only you we born twenty years earlier. We would get married, built a house and maybe even bring onto this world our own basketball team. It would be perfect. If only fate was kinder."
He was about to say something else but the taxi in front of the building stopped him. Silently, they rose from their seats and left the building, letting the cold night air cool him down a little.