I do not own or have the rights to "Need You Now." The rights and ownership go to the respective holders/owners.
"Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor…"
The air was thick with the scent of stale alcohol and salty sweat. Women in skimpy dresses slunk by, barely looking him over before their cat-like eyes were skimming the bar for a more appealing catch.
It was obvious why he was there.
It was written all over his slack-jawed face, from his bloodshot eyes to his flushed out cheeks. He wasn't there to have a good time, to "get lucky," or to party. He was there to drown; to drown in his sorrows, and to drown his sorrows in shots of hard liquor. To try to use all the booze he could get his hands on to make the memories fade away. The problem with that was: alcohol's a depressant. It slurred his speech and muddled his mind, but none of that aided him in his quest for freedom from the flashbacks that plagued him. He slammed his fist against the bar table, barking at the bartender, a nice-bodied blonde in her twenties, for another fill.
"Hey Lady, another shot over here, huh?"
"Name's Liz, kid." She tossed back, grabbing a glass and trotting to a nearby sink.
She knew good and well how old he was. It was obvious that he had only just come of age, legal to vote and serve, but he was still three years shy of the legal drinking age. Still, she had detected the pain and desperation in his eyes the moment he sat down. She figured getting a little buzzed might help kick the kid back into place, but, seeing as that last one was his third shot since arriving 20 minutes ago, she knew she had grossly overestimated his ability to hold liquor.
Sauntering over to the disgruntled patron, she slammed down the glass of water and flashed him a wry grin, saying, "Just a minute there, Junior. No need to get a nasty hangover before you even leave the bar."
He scowled at her, obviously put off by the nickname, and turned to survey the other occupants of the crowded joint. Sloppy grins, sweat-coated skin, and haphazard clothing flashed back and forth all around him, only made worse by the haze that had settled over his senses. Turning back to the bar, he heaved a deep sigh and glared at the glass in front of him.
Liz tossed him a raised brow and shook her head, turning to organize the littered mess of bottles on the shelves behind her. When she turned back, the youth had lowered his head into his crossed arms, and his wild ivory locks lay spread over the surface of the bar. "Poor kid." She muttered. "Wonder what kinda hell he's seen…" Though she'd only been tending bars for two years or so, Liz had a way of reading people that required little experience. She could read a troubled past in his gnawed lips, sagging eyes, and already creased features.
Every time she looked over at him, his head was still down, and every time she looked away, she wondered just kinda kinda hell such a young kid had seen.
The minutes ticked by on the Bud Weiser clock until the little hand pointed past the one and the big hand was pointing straight to the right. The bar was mostly empty now, save for a few couples readying to venture out into the night that they believed was still young.
Stifling a yawn, Liz strode around the bar and planted herself in the seat next to the youth, gently nudging his arm in an effort to bring him back to reality.
"The hell do you want?" He grumbled testily, his forehead still resting against his forearms.
"It's after 1 am, kid. My shift ends, soon, and the next guy isn't as nice as I am. He'll kick your sorry ass right outta this place."
For a moment, neither moved. Then, slowly, the wild-haired boy raised his head and turned his face toward her. Her jaw slackened a bit and she nearly gasped. His face was pink and spotted with red blotches, and fresh tears reluctantly slid down his cheeks. They sat in silence for a moment, merely staring at one another, neither sure how to start.
Then, the male sighed and cleared his throat, rubbing a trembling fist at his eyes as he mumbled, "Well, this isn't cool at all…"
Liz merely grunted and chuckled in agreement.
"I-Sorry about this…" He muttered through his teeth as he rubbed the sleeve of his jacket along the wood of the table, trying to wipe away the moisture and drops of alcohol that had landed there. His crimson eyes peered at her, suddenly embarrassed and timid, from between strands of his stark mane.
"It's cool." She smiled. "It happens. So, if you don't mind me asking, why…" She trailed off, realizing how cruel it was for her to interrogate him when he was obviously not fit. Her curiosity had, as usual, conquered her manners.
He suddenly let out a low, rueful chuckle and glanced up at her, his shoulders slumped and his arms resting over one another on the table top. "Why I'm here, trying to drown in booze?" He sighed once more and ran his slender fingers through his thick hair.
"Well, I'll go right out and say it: yeah, it was a girl. But not in the way you'd think." A toothy grin flashed across his lips as he considered the implications. "Nah, none of that kind of thing. Something worse…So much worse…" His features suddenly sobered. "We were driving. Well, I was. We were on my motorcycle." His brows creased and his jaw clenched at the word. "This truck…it just came out of nowhere and ran smack into us. All I remember…She was screaming. Screaming so loud, right in my ear. She was so scared, terrified, but I was frozen. All I saw was this massive semi speeding straight toward us, honking his horn for me to get out of the way, but I couldn't." He inhaled and let it out slowly. "All because some stupid slow poke wouldn't let us pass him. Somehow, I wasn't hurt too bad. I had a hairline fracture on my forearm, my shoulder's still screwed up, and my leg was bruised and scarred really bad, but otherwise I made out alright." He paused, his eyes tearing up again.
"But she…Her name is Maka." A light grin tickled his lips as the named escaped his throat. "Maka Albarn. She has the most beautiful green eyes you'll ever see. They're kinda a dull green, but they're so sparkly and full of life…You don't even notice the lame color." He chortled with himself, at some unknown inside joke. "She…she didn't get off so easy. The bike landed on top of her. She's real fragile, I guess, though she can fight like hell if she's in a pinch. Real smart, too. She'll yap your ear off for hours, but she'll teach you a thing or two."
Realizing he was digressing again, he gritted his sharp teeth and continued. "The bike…it crushed her. Not literally, not all the way, but her legs…Oh god, they were mangled…It was awful…" He gripped his stomach at the graphic memory, a tear or two slipping from the corners of his eyes. "She's paralyzed now. She was in a medically-induced coma for a day or two, trying to get her body stable before they fixed her up…" He chewed on his lips, rubbing at his eyes. "I-I haven't talked to her since before the accident. I was in the hospital myself while she was in her coma, and I snuck out to go visit her, but…Seeing her so pale and weak looking…even in that coma her face looked like it was in pain. I couldn't stick around until she woke up. I couldn't face her because…It was all my fault." A fresh stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks as a dry sob tried to escape his throat. Liz watched him, her heart breaking for this boy, but she merely looked on, letting him release this pent up anguish.
"I just…don't know what to do." He whispered. "How can I talk to her? She's bound to a wheelchair and it's all my fault. Our friends have been calling me all night, trying to get me to visit her, but…I just can't. And that's how I ended up here." He concluded a little too matter-of-factly for Liz's taste. When she realized he was waiting for her to offer some kind of advice, or at least consolation, she puckered her lips and raised her brows, scouring her mind for how to set him straight. Gentleness and kindness weren't exactly her strong suits…
"Alright, kid-"
"Soul." He cut in. "My name is Soul."
"Fine. Soul. Look, you can't go around avoiding her for the rest of your life. You love her, right?"
"I-" He bowed his head. "Yes."
"And you didn't purposefully run into that truck, and it wasn't you who threw the bike on her, right?"
His head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Of course not!" He growled out defensively.
"Well, there you go! What's holding you back, then? You didn't do it on purpose, and you care about her a lot, so go see her! What'd keeping you here?" She jeered. "Fear?"
His deep scarlet eyes blazed and he bit out, "Not anymore."
Whipping out a black cell phone, he snapped it open and hurriedly scrolled through his contacts. Liz grinned a victorious little smile and rose gracefully from her seat, returning to her post behind the bar.
"Hey…Maka." She heard him choke out a few seconds later. "I-It's me, Soul…I-I need to see you…"
"...It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now..."
"Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum