Beating the World

It's still a few days too early for New Years, but I got this idea really randomly, and I just couldn't let it fly away, so, early Happy New Years!

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It was New Year's Eve, the snow delicately twirling around in the navy skies, saying hello to the gleaming stars and the laughing moon, before landing safely on the blanketed roof-top of a house. The house was giving off a soft, warm, faded yellow glow, and if one stayed quiet, you could hear raucous laughter and loud cheers from a party echoing inside the house.

It was this party that 23 year old Mark was at, skirting around the huge salad of drunk, sober, nearly drunk, and barely sober guests, beer freshly taking from the ice box in hand. He, of course, was completely sober, considering he had only had one beer so far, and had a high alcohol tolerance level, and it was precisely this sober-ness that prompted him to maneuver through the massive throng of crazy, frolicking, hyper college students, college graduates, and just over all excited people, all to reach a familiar, extremely familiar, aloof face on the other side of the sea of jumping people. Somewhere behind him, a high pitched shriek sounded along with angry yelling as a girl beat her boyfriend in some sort of Wii game. 

Wincing as a clearly drunk classmate shouted something in his face and gave him a sloppy, badly aimed one arm hug, he dodged the few final people to reach his destination.

Raising an eyebrow along with the hand holding his beer in a queer greeting, he yelled over the blaring music (Did they really just change the song from his favorite to something by-who was it, ah right-Carly something, Jedi? He didn't care. He didn't like it) at the glaring girl, "Hey loner, long time no see!"

An annoyed frown flashed across the dark haired (Actually, not just dark haired, dark everything, from clothes to shoes) girl before she settled for sneering out, "For good reason too, loser."

Strangely enough, Mark just chuckled before leaning against the wall next to her and staring out at the crowd. (The number of sober people was significantly less than before he crossed the room. Had it really taken that long? Or were they just really good at getting drunk fast? Why did he even know half of these people...)

Taking a chug of his beer, he offhandedly commented, "God, , I missed your terrible sense of humor."

"And, god, Mark, I always hated you as a person over all," she slyly teased back, hiding a nostalgic, minuscule, just barely there smile behind her slender glass of red wine.

Barking out a short laugh after a roll of his eyes, he asked, "So how's Simone been?"

"Still an aggravating idiot," she muttered, blushing as she took yet another sip of her wine.

"Oh please, after what, 8 years, and you still put up that act? You're a hoot, Avery."

Avery began to blush more fiercely as she stammered out indignantly, "It's not an act! And no one says 'hoot' anymore! A-anyways, how's Nickie been? I haven't talked to her in months."

He laughed out, longer, and more heartily this time (Oh how this reminded him of the old days), before saying, "Flitting about,  worried, of course. Although, all her new dress orders really should be a good thing."

"She always was strange," she snorted.

"Oh? And what about you? What sort of high class wine is that, you snob?" he snickered, taking another gulp of cold beer.

Frowning, she twirled the wine around in the glass a bit before answering, "Merlot. I don't particularly like it, but," sighing, she continued, "I guess it's better than that beer. Makes people act like cavemen."

"Hey! Beer does not make people act like cavemen!" he shouted indignantly. Unfortunately, his point was pathetically cut off as, near the middle of the room, another familiar, too familiar, face leapt, no, grand jeté'd, into the air, shouting some drunken slur, and broke out into a terrible, ear shattering rendition of some ungodly song (no one could tell, to be honest, it was that off-tune).

"Whoohoo...! I-I can f-fly you guys! Look at me soar! I believe I can flyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!! La-la-ahhh-hahah! Butterflies!"

Mark's hand flew to his forehead without further instructions from his paralyzed in horror brain.  Avery began laughing, even crying tears, leaning against the wall with her arms, as she shouted out in glee, "No, not cavemen. Like Brad!"

"Brad always was a stupid idiot," he groaned, face lightly pink from his humiliating old friend.

By now, Avery had stopped choking on her laughter, and had instead settled for another sip of her wine and a triumphant smirk.

The clock clicked as another minute passed. It was only a few minutes from the next year.

Glancing at the clock, Avery sobered instantly, retaining her cold expression. Following her gaze, Mark sighed in melancholy. 

"So, yet another year flew by, hm. I wonder where our lives went," he hummed sadly, taking a small, tasteless drink of his no longer cold beer.

She gazed into her wine intensely, as though the swirling, sloshing color would tell her all the forgotten jokes, hazy summer days, and joyful laughter that made your stomach hurt.

She sighed as well, and whispered, "Don't we all want to know. Some days I look into the mirror and wonder if I'm doing the right things in this world."

Suddenly, as though her words had hit a trigger in him, Mark pushed off from the wall and swung around to face her, the condensation from his beer glass flying away into the crowd. 

"Don't say that! It's the New Years! It's time to look forward to a new page! You're doing the best you can, we all are. And we can be tomorrow's heroes, I'm sure!" he exclaimed, arms flailing in exaggeration.

Avery frowned. 

"You're drunk, Mark."

"No I'm not, and you and I both know that. It's true! We, we can be like the Avengers, or, or the Teen Titans! We can save the planet together, save the people! We can make a difference, Avery, as much as you don't want to believe it. You just need some confidence."

The crowd had all settled down behind them, and began to count down, staring fixedly at the small television screen.

10

"Mark, you're crazy. What can we do? The world's too big for just us to change it. We're not living in a fairy tale, idiot. This is reality. Grow up already," she snapped heatedly. Her glare had no power though. Instead, it was tired, so so tired of the world, already defeated by too many, too too many fights.

He smiled softly at her, "Maybe that's the problem, Avery. We all grew up too fast. We've all stopped believing. But, Avery, maybe we really can, and we've just given up too early."

9

8

7

She stopped glaring at him, and looked out at the jumble of limbs crouching around the couch in the living room in contemplation.

"I guess. Who knows."

"No one. That's what makes it an adventure."

She smiled and wondered under her breath, "An adventure? Like...like when we were kids?"

"Like we're kids again, except this time, it won't have to end once the sun sets past the purple hills," he murmured, grinning down at her."

6

5

4

3

"Come on," he said, tilting her remaining beer towards her. Seeing her blank stared at the green glass bottle, he laughed and said, "A toast silly."

She grinned, (for real this time, so happily, so joyfully, like she had when they stilled swung from the metal bars of the playground across the street), and laughed out, "A toast!"

2

"To us! And to changing the world!" he cheered happily over the noise of the rest of the party.

She grinned to the point her face could stretch no more, and exclaimed, "No, not to changing the world! This, this is a toast to beating it!"

He blinked, confused, before slowly grinning along with her, and shouted, "To us, and to beating the world!"

"Cheers!"

1

"Happy New Years!"

And was it a happy night indeed.

Somewhere, Nowhere, Everywhere, Anywhere

     They were two of a kind. She, she was a caged animal, frozen in the same glass box for all her life, wishing, wanting, clawing for a way out, pulling at her hair in frustration at  the repetitiveness of everything, at the cruelness of life for making her suffer through the same things over and over again, at her lack of ability, of freedom, to find who she was, and not who others wanted her to be. He was a lost soul, fluttering from city to town to village to countryside, then to yet another city. He was so so lonely, always the outsider, who didn't know the jokes, who didn't know the rules, the manners, the ways of living. He was always shrouded in a mist of not knowing, of clueless-ness, and of the utter desperation of not belonging. 

     They met on a subway to nowhere. She had been sitting in the very last seat in the furthest corner of the train, staring out into the grey skies and dead grass. He had just gotten on, and had flipped his hood up, slouching to avoid attention. The train had jerked, and both had been startled into looking up, and that was when their eyes met.

     Now, looking back, they could both laugh at how cliche it sounded, that they met with just a snap of the fingers, too coincidental to have been by chance, but all the same too well planned to have been on purpose. Of course, they had broken the supposed what seemed romantic cliche, considering they were now more like siblings, but nonetheless, it was laughable.

     After that jerk, that clicking moment where their gazes met, he had awkwardly shuffled to sit next to her. They said nothing, just stared out opposite windows together, his gaze on the grey skies, hers on the dead grass. 

     They stayed there until the subway had gotten to the very last stop, a small town in the middle of nowhere, and had to get off before they were kicked off. 

     Once off, they parted ways, only to meet again in a small cafe in the town in the middle of nowhere, and once more, they stared out the window together.

     No words were needed for them to keep meeting in that small cafe in the town in the middle of nowhere, and eventually become friends. 

_____

     They always had the strangest conversations. The kind with long periods of silence that to any stranger would seem awkward, but to them was perfect. She would daydream about the wonders of the outside world, and he would tell her of the glowing cities he felt so lonely in. He would sigh about not fitting in, and she would laugh and tell him of why he should hate fitting in, and how it felt to be trapped. 

     Once, it had just finished raining that morning, in that town, in the middle of nowhere, when she had opened her mouth after swallowing a gulp of dull tasting hot chocolate, and said, "Let's go exploring."

He continued sipping his coffee, before answering, "Where."

"Nowhere. Anywhere. Somewhere. Just somewhere where we can pretend to be anywhere but here, and nowhere else."

He drained the rest of his drink, and pushed his chair back.

"Then come on. Let's go explore nowhere."

____

     They ran down stone cobbled streets that had soft green grass peeking from between loosen stones, and between wooden houses painted cheerful colors, sad colors, and old, faded colors. They slid between alleys that were still shimmering from that morning's shower, and found shaky wooden doors that led to long forgotten rooms. 

Together, she found a way out in the form of secret passageways and lost memories, and he found a way to belong, by the hand on his arm, dragging him to everywhere. 

Together, they found the nowhere where they belonged.

Because here, nowhere was everywhere, anywhere was somewhere, and they could forget about all the pain and the suffering and the sad, sad, sadness, and the melancholy that chained their lives.

To them, nowhere, was home.