#;jesterflower

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My head knows, but there's no convincing my heart.

Mickey Guyton

[aviscaptum]

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It doesn’t matter that I 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝒆 you                                                                          - -- --- because you have never --- -- -                                                                                                                                                 𝓝𝓔𝓥𝓔ℛ loved me!

[aviscaptum]

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Chad has died. Booze finally got him. Way to go.

Naadia stilled at the drunk stranger's callous remark, likely thinking himself amusing as he raised the whiskey glass she'd filled half full of it's patron drink. Brown eyes widened marginally, the bottle in her hand was set on the polished wood of the bar.

             {That couldn't be true!}                                                     {He was lying...right...?}

The idea that the vibrant--albeit usually drunk--musician was anything but alive and well was completely outlandish to her. Even more so, the idea that it was HER FAULT--

A deep breath took root in her chest, lungs expanding as she fought not to jump to conclusions, and as it exited her body, she replaced the whiskey bottle to the shelf behind her and crossed the room to the other side of the bar. A patron or two tried to flag her down as she went but the usually flirtatious bartender didn't even bat an eyelash their way.

Instead she slipped out of the little door that closed off the back of the bar and headed to the kitchen where Pete and Patrick were without a doubt doing more goofing off than dishes or cooking. They straightened from whatever they'd been chortling over the instant the svelte young woman stepped into their space, neither very used to anyone coming into the back kitchen where the boss had ordered them to stay.

"Can one of you watch the bar for ten minutes? I need to check on something!" They complained, Peter not wanting the extra work and Patrick worried about messing it up while she was gone.

"Look, just grab the bottle they want and fill their glasses! They'll usually pay when they order but if they don't write down what they buy and I'll charge them for it when I get back, but I really need to check on this okay?!" Reluctantly they agreed and no sooner than they had did the Arab woman vanish from their doorway, tearing her leather jacket from the coat stand by the back door and racing for her car.

Fingers fumbled for her keys and as soon as she was in the car the windows came down to cool the heat gathered to something more comfortable. Then Naadia drove the few miles to Chad's studio apartment in a daze--fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel the whole way. And when she got there, the sight that greeted her was enough to chill the blood in her veins as she parked right there on the road.

His neighbors were all gathered outside, police and an ambulance were parked with their lights flashing as the EMTs wheeled someone out on a portable gurney. Even though the crowd of people made it almost impossible to see who was ON the gurney, Naadia's eyes misted as her heart sank.

                        {So the drunk had been right...}

"What do ya think all the fuss is about?" His voice drew her breath just as easily as the news of his 'death' had when Chad leaned on the frame of her car window, taking a bite from an apple and watching the scene before him as nonchalantly as one could imagine. She stared at him wide eyed for the longest moment of her life before those emerald hues turned to her and his chewing halted; brows creasing in concern.

"What's up?" And before she could stop herself she'd opened the door into him, climbing out as he doubled back muttering in pain and wrapping him in the tightest hug she could manage for the stunned musician. He had barely managed to return the hug before she separated from him though, and much to his discomfort, when she pulled back she reared back and punched him in the jaw as hard as she could.

"Stop telling drunks that you're dead! You scared me!"

[aviscaptum]

You jump, I jump, right?

Rose (Titanic)