echoing, evocative
It's Karaoke night. The bar is crowded and hot. Lux is three drinks in. She's not drunk. She swears. She lists a little to the left, bumping shoulders with Jinx. She giggles. Okay, she might be a bit tipsy. But only a tiny, eensy weensy bit - she promises. C'mon, Jinx. What's with that look? She ain't no featherweight! She can totally - hic - handle her liquor.
"I know," Jinx tells her.
Lux blinks. It's the alcohol, she thinks. It's the warm air, she thinks. It's Jinx, sitting next to her, very much not drunk, very much not drinking, with clear, keen eyes - watching. Lux feels heat pool in her belly.
It's been a long week. She had back to back matches. She volunteered for some amateur scrims. She helped the summoners calibrate the Rift. Now, it's finally Friday, more importantly Friday night. She can finally kick back, relax, and have a drink. Or four, she smiles, sipping her fourth glass of whiskey.
She's exhausted. She's not thinking right. And yes, okay, she's more than a little drunk. So, when the karaoke is left open, she jumps to her feet and yells, "I volunteer as tribute!"
Because she is tired. But it's not from the long week. It's not from working too hard. It's not from her sore, aching body. It's a weight in her bones, in the gap between between her lungs, in the tightness of her throat whenever Jinx is near. It's this feeling of slowly but surely suffocating, drowning, sinking. It's the dark liquor and the bright lights. But mostly, it's those thrice damned eyes, clear and keen and sober when Lux is very much not.
And she can't anymore. She just can't anymore. She takes a hold of the mic. She takes a deep breath. And she sings.
Lux knows she's tone deaf. She knows she can't carry a tune to save her life. But this song, she can sing this song. When she was small - before the military, before conscription, before everything - she used to play pretend. She would sit in her room with the radio on. She would close her eyes and dream about growing up. She would think of stories where she got to meet her special someone. And she used to sing this song, over and over and over again. It's the one song she can never get wrong. But oh, little Lux could never have known, never have dreamed, never have thought of Jinx. Little Lux could never have imagined standing on a stage feeling like she's standing on a cliff.
The bar is packed to capacity. There's at least fifty people looking at her. Lux finds Jinx. Through the thick haze of cigarette smoke, among the many half-lit faces, Lux finds Jinx. Lux looks Jinx in the eye. They both know. She's not drunk.
She starts off softly, slowly. "Wise men say, only fools rush in…"
Then, growing louder, she keeps on singing. She stretches out her arm, urging people to sing along. The entire bar joins in. Their raw, open voices roar out the chorus until all Lux can hear is a singular, avalanche of sound.
Listen, she thinks furiously - desperately, fucking listen! Here it is! And here I am! Do you see? Can you hear? She takes a deep shuddering breath, finishing not with a howl but a whisper, the way secrets are meant to be shared.
"For I can't help falling in love with you."
Keep me. Please. Keep me.