All Things Break (closed for SecretSophie)

[Bevatoria]

He'd kept up a pretty brave face up until that point. Sitting somewhere far too close to the head table. It wasn't as if he'd wanted to sit there, but the seating arrangement hadn't been his call. It was hers. Just like everything had seemed to be in their relationship. The dreaded, possibly overused 'friend zone'. What was the opposite of rose colored glasses? Grey colored? Black? No, grey. Dreary. You still had to see something when you were looking at events from another perspective. And his was warped right now; Lane Carter was cognizant enough to recognize that, if nothing else, as he got up from the table. Unnoticed by most who were justifiably watching the happy couple during their first dance together. A wedding tradition like no other.

Lane did get one look, from the person sitting next to him. Jeff White. His buddy, taking his attention away from his lovely date to his left to grab Lane's arm. "Where ya going?" He whispered, his expression at Lane one of mild confusion, but not concern. There were many innocuous reasons someone would be getting up in the middle of a wedding reception. Lane looked back at Jeff, and a pang of sympathy went through him for the deception he was about to spin for his friend. Someone who didn't deserve it.

"I need some air." Lane smiled, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair. Before Jeff could inquire, Lane walked off, his friend's gaze lingering for a moment before turning back to the dance. Jeff's girlfriend, Nadia, squeezed his hand, turning for a moment with a whisper. "What's up?"

Jeff shrugged. "Not sure." An unintentional lie, and as Lane walked out of the reception hall, his shoes clicking against the floor unnoticed by anyone else. The evening was warm enough that he hadn't brought a jacket with him.

He hadn't lied to Jeff, but neither had he told him the whole truth. He did need some air. But he wasn't coming back to the wedding. The hurt, the agony of watching his best friend, Nadine, get married to the love of her life was too much. He couldn't stand watching it. Watching her long brown hair move as she swayed around the floor, her bare arms and shoulders tremble under his touch.

Just like their vows had made his lip tremble. Many had assume it was sadness that moved him, but it wasn't that. It was anger. Frustration. Fury that Nadine hadn't loved him like he'd loved her for so long. He remembered the evening, as clear as a day, when he was going to confess he wanted to be more then just friends. He knew she was seeing someone, but Lane had really had no idea how serious it was.

Until she hadn't shown up. Until he'd found out she'd been taken on a whirlwind weekend away to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and she came back with a ring on her finger. Lane had tried to be happy for her, to clap when the news had come out, to congratulate her.

And he'd tried not to feel spurned. To be the 'nice guy' that couldn't take rejection. But a part of him knew that, for the past four years, he'd held out on other girls to wait for her. Still holding out hope for one girl, when at age twenty nine he should've known better. Lane was too good to take it out on Nadine directly. She wasn't to blame.

But neither could he endure it anymore.

That was how he found himself walking out of the hotel. Luckily, being downtown, there were a lot of hotels, and even if he was staying in the one the wedding was at, he'd come back to it later. But he couldn't stay there now.

His phone in hand, he typed out a quick message to Jeff. "Not feeling well. Won't come back to the reception. Enjoy it." Jeff would find it weird, but Lane wasn't going to send it immediately. Give him a few minutes to notice Lane was gone, and then send the message. Make the story seem viable.

And again, a half truth without a lie.

Slipping into the lobby, his shoes clicking on the white marble floor, he saw his true goal to his right. An open entrance to a well furnished, well lit bar. And, best of all, few occupants. Lane was more then a little overdressed for it. It was more the just the suit; his still polished black shoes, perfectly tailored black suit jacket and pants, the white tie and shirt. The black vest he hoped he'd never wear again. A lot of people came in here dressed in suits. Not many, dressed for a wedding.

He felt the looks he was getting, and sidled up to a stool at the bar. The feeling of being watched would get drowned soon. "Barkeep." He said, his voice one of despair and pain. "Scotch."

"What's your pleasure?" he asked, and Lane tilted his head.

"Don't care."

The two words applied in more way then one right now.

 

[SecretSophie]

Two years ago, Holly Gilbert was 21, starting her new job as a book editor, and found the love of her life. They met in the most classic way imaginable, in a bar. It took less than an hour of flirtatious talking to know that they were soul mates. He was funny, charming, and unbelievably handsome. Her own Prince Charming, only with better taste in formal ware. When he asked her to move in with him four short months later, she couldn’t resist. It was bliss, waking up next to a warm body, having someone to cuddle with on the couch. Sure, he worked a lot and so did she, but when they were alone it was like magic. She was living in a fantasy world that no one, not even her older sister could bring her out of.

Sadly, that fantasy world started to crumble three months before their two year anniversary. It started when she found a mysterious number in his cell phone. It ended when she found out about not the one, but two affairs he was having. Her affection and love for him turned into anger and hatred in a heartbeat. To say things ended on a bad note was the understatement of a lifetime. After throwing her clothing and personal belongings into a bag, she spent thirty minutes screaming obscenities at him. Words that would usually make her blush were pouring out of her mouth like she’d been saying them for years. She stormed out in a tear blurred rage and didn’t look back once.

Now, it was their would-have-been two year anniversary. She thought that this would be the anniversary he would propose to her. In her dreams, they would be back at the bar they met at and he would get down on one knee right there. In reality, she was sitting here alone, hoping to find the closure she left behind at their apartment that night. Half of her wanted him to walk in, roses and a string quartet in tow. To get on his knees and beg her to take him back. The other half of her wanted a drink.

She decided on the later.

Holly waved at the bartender and waited for him to come to her. She pushed her dark hair away form her face and put her clutch down on the bar. Inside of her bag was her phone, which she knew would be full of unread messages from Rachel. Her sister begged her not to go, insisting it was self inflicted torture. The moment she left their shared apartment, her phone started to buzz. She only read of a few of the messages before she turned her phone off altogether. They were all the same. “Keep your head up” and “Don’t let anyone new sweep you off your feet!”

She ordered a Cosmo and surveyed the other occupants at the bar. There was a balding man in a cheap suit with whiskey in one hand and a girl on his arm. What she assumed to be a group of co-workers unwinding after a long day of work. A few stranglers sitting alone, drinking with a newspaper or phone in front of them. This bar used to look luxurious and sophisticated, now it just looked lonely. How many people came here to drink away a bad day, or to get over a loved one’s death, or to attempt to meet someone special. Which brought up the question, why exactly was she here today?

There was no chance that Adam would show up, not if he had half the brain she left him with. What kind of closure could she find here when there were only sad memories? Maybe Rachel was right, she shouldn't have come.

Holly was about to pick up her bag and leave, but the bartender just delivered her drink. It was bound to cost her ten dollars; she may as well enjoy it. She sipped on it slowly, letting the slight burn soothe the lump in her throat. She felt silly for coming here, like a school girl marching back onto the playground after being shoved by a bully 15 years later. There was nothing redeeming about this, there was nothing that screamed closure except for her drink.

A man sitting a few seats over shook her out of her thoughts. He stood out from the other men in suits, but she couldn't exactly pin point why. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't look like he came from a 10 hour work day, instead from an over the top party. A wedding, maybe. The way he was dressed was only one of the reasons he caught her attention. His sadness intrigued her. Where could he have come from that left him in such low spirits?

“Rough night?” Holly asked in his direction.

 

[Bevatoria]

It wasn't that Lane didn't hear her. He was only on his second out of what promised to be many drinks that night. And he certainly wasn't going out of his way to humor many of the odd looks he'd been getting. He knew he looked fancy. Better kept the any of the other men in the bar at the moment. Especially the bald guy. The girl with him seemed far too young to be really attracted to him, and Lane figured it was money. Maybe he'd paid her already. Not much brain power went into that thought. Right now, Lane was trying to let go, just forget about what was going on just a couple of blocks away. Laughter, good times, dancing, clapping, all of the things that would make everyone happy. Except for him.

Weddings were about celebration. And he couldn't celebrate the extinguishing of the last faint, tiny little hope he'd had about Nadine coming around. They had enough common interests. They'd known each other for years, in a way, he knew more about her then her new husband did...and she knew a lot about Lane...maybe that's why she never-

"Rough night?"

He took a moment to look over at the person who'd seemingly directed the question at him. Yep. The way she met his gaze told him enough, and while Lane would normally find himself drawn to her, for the moment, tonight was not the evening he wanted to even think about another woman in such a way. Not romantic, not sexually, not as attractive, and surely not in any kind of intimate fashion. Right now, this young lady - younger then him by at least three years to Lane's trained eye - was just another person in the bar. Just another drinking companion.

One wearing a black cocktail dress, but that was not what Lane lingered on as he deliberately looked back at her. Swayed a bit in his seat, mostly for effect, as he was very much in control of himself as he smiled. Not in a way many would find comforting, taking another swig of his drink before he responded.

"You might say that." The smile turned into a heartless smirk, not at the girl as he leaned forward on the bar. She was a few stools away, and he resisted the urge to sidle over, at least immediately, as he continued, his statement slow, deliberate. "If you would consider the culmination of several weeks of helpless misery into one gigantic clusterfuck of an evening where you watch someone finalize a life decision that you can't understand...." He'd never seen what Nadine had adored so much in that hulking, brutish thug who was, as the two strangers spoke, twirling Nadine around a dance floor several blocks away in a most unthuglike manner. "...if you would consider that a rough night...then yeah." He nodded at her. "I'm having a rough night. A rough few weeks. A rough..." Lane paused, looking up as if the roof would help give some thought to the matter. "...close to a year now, I think." He frowned, nodded again as he looked at his watch, another swig of his drink as he signalled the bartender for another.

It was about then he realized that he'd answered her question fully, and he turned to her, curious. Lane wasn't a believer in fate, but she'd seen some sort of hurt in him. Which likely meant...

"You look pretty sad yourself." Lane countered, looking down into the fresh glass in front of him, ruminating for a moment. "Especially for someone who looks like she's gone to some effort to put herself together." His eyes were drawn away from the glass back to her, noticing for the first time how exactly the young woman who'd spoken to him was dressed. Too classy for a place like this. Kind of like him, in a way.

Although he doubted she'd just been at a wedding herself. That'd just be too weird.