0 2

g l a c i a l

True to his word, Declan showed up a few days later, this time with his girlfriend in tow. He had his arm draped around his girlfriend's shoulders, a small smile was playing on her lips as he whispered into her ear, her eyes bright and dancing. Declan spotted me at the counter, and smiled widely at me, pushing his girlfriend down on the stool next to him.

"Hey, Kira. This is Eloise," he said, his voice softening. "We've been dating for two weeks now. She's been dying to meet you ever since I told her that you were the one who managed to shut Joey up."

"Hello," she greeted, her voice a pleasant lilt as she smiled at me.

"Hi."

We shook hands after I had wiped my hand on my jeans. Her grasp was warm but fragile in mine, her nails bitten down to the quick.

"Declan's told me you're some sort of a miracle worker," Eloise said, "After Joey came back from the coffee-shop that day, he didn't utter a single word about Fiona. Of course, that only lasted a day before he went back to binge drinking again."

"So," Declan continued, a slow smile spreading across his face. "We've got a favour to ask of you."

I looked at him suspiciously. "What favour?"

I didn't quite like the smirk that Declan cast in my direction. "Help Joey get over his breakup."

I'd come across many alarming things in my lifetime, but this had to take the icing off the cake. My jaw dropped; I looked at the two of them like Declan had just proclaimed they were from outer space. "Um," I let out a nervous laugh, "What?"

Eloise shrugged. "Well, our friend's an utter disaster. And we need your help to, you know, get him back on his feet."

"That's insane," I declared, still reeling in surprise from their sudden request. "I hardly even know you guys."

"Then get to know us," Declan placed his elbows on the counter, looking at me with a very serious face that made me smile. "We're desperate here, Kira. Joey's a wreck, he can't even function like a normal person. We wouldn't have asked you if you didn't have the breakup formula."

I suddenly, belatedly, recalled the conversation I had had with Declan the other day, and regretted it. "That's not even a thing," I said, desperately. "Everyone gets over a breakup - eventually."

Declan snorted out a sardonic laugh. "Not Joey, that's for sure. Come on, you just have to help him snap out of it. Try it out for a couple of days - a week, at most. We won't bother you anymore after that."

I hated to admit it, but Declan was pretty convincing. Maybe it was his persuasive charm, or Eloise's hopeful eyes. Maybe I was doing this more for them than for Joey, who had so far proven to be a major arse. Whatever the case was, I could hardly stop myself from giving them a brief nod, effectively sealing the deal. "Fine. But just a week. And no guarantees."

Declan grinned at me, his eyes lighting up in gratitude, and Eloise reached across the counter to give me a warm hug. "Thank you," she murmured, in my ear. "You don't know how much this means to us."

I pulled back from her and smiled at the both of them. "Let's just get this over and done with."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

That afternoon, Eloise and Declan brought me to Joey's house. I trudged along behind them rather reluctantly, hands shoved in my sweater pockets as I kicked at the gravel bits on the pavement. As we neared Joey's house, I grew slightly apprehensive, and broke into a light jog to catch up with the couple ahead of me.

"Just out of curiosity," I said lightly, when Eloise and Declan turned to look at me. "How's Joey like, as a person?"

Declan began sniggering at my question. Eloise, on the other hand, looked at me kindly. "Well, he's really nice, once you get to know him."

Nodding unsurely, I followed them down the sidewalk, until we met an abrupt right and headed up the driveway, towards one of those stately, huge white houses. Declan located a spare key from under one of the floorboards on the front porch and grinned when I stared at him suspiciously.

"Should I be worried that you're breaking and entering?"

His grin widened and he simply ushered me in, with Eloise following closely behind. She led me up to Joey's room and paused, casting me a sideway glance. "Just...be careful with him, okay?"

It was fortunate that she didn't see me shrugging in response when she pushed me into the room, pulling the door close after I entered. Joey's room was much like any other guy's I'd seen. Clothes strewn here and there, a musky smell of shampoo, unquestionable packets of chips and empty cans of beer, and the indisputable fact that the owner of this room was an absolute wreck.

I heard a distant dull thud from the bathroom and that was where I found Joey Addison - sitting on the tiled floor, his shoulders slumped over as he buried his head between his knees, no doubt suffering the effects of a hangover. Again.

A sudden feeling of annoyance surged through me. I knelt on the floor and roughly shook Joey. Startled, his head snapped up, eyes wide as he recognised me. His eyes narrowed, lips twisted into an ugly scowl. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" I couldn't help but let out a sardonic laugh, before turning away from him and heading towards the shower. "I think a better question would be - what do you want? Because while you're sitting here on your sorry arse, wasting your life away like the weak little shit you are, your friends and your mother are out there worrying themselves sick for you."

"That's rich," he laughed almost derisively, picking up his beer can again. "You think you can come in here and lecture me and not expect me to throw you out of my house?"

I grabbed the can from his hand just as he was about to put it to his lips. "Take your shirt off."

A look of surprise flashed across his eyes, but it was quickly concealed with a defiant glare. "Get the fuck out of here."

"You asked for it," I muttered, before reaching towards him. Before he could shift out of the way, my hand had latched around the neckline of his thin white shirt. I jerked him roughly towards the bathtub, and flicked the shower on, dousing him in a shock of the cold water.

"What the fuck!?" he spat, all but flinching away from me. For a second he looked as though he was about to shove me away - he looked positively menacing, intimidating, terrifying as he towered over me. But just as quickly, the fire went out of his eyes. "Could you stop?" he hissed. "Nothing you say or do is going to work."

I pushed him down onto the ledge and continued to drench him with water. "No, you shut up and listen," I said, flatly. "Fiona broke up with you, she pulled the ground out from under your feet, wronged every right there was in your life."

He glared at me. "Rub salt in my wound, why don't you?"

I ignored him. "And maybe you think people ought to feel sorry for you, but here's the thing - no one gives a fuck. Maybe your friends do, and maybe your mother does, but no one else will. Not Fiona. Or the rest of the world. Because the world just keeps spinning on and life goes on. You can cry and scream and drink your life away and Fiona wouldn't even give a shit."

He captured my wrist in a vice-like grip, his fingers curling around my skin, his nails digging in painfully. He flicked the shower off, and his voice was low, almost deadly. "You done yet?"

"You're a mess, you're a disaster. You're pathetic. You're an idiot to cry over a girl like it's the end of the world," I said quietly. "Now I'm done."

With his resentment came a flicker of realisation, like my words had finally sunk in. His grip relaxed on my wrist, and he let his hand fall to his side. I turned to leave but stopped at the last moment, glancing over my shoulder back at him.

He was now back on the floor, his shoulders hunched in defeat. He cut a sorry sight, and I suddenly felt my heart pull as I watched him. Before I knew it, my feet were moving on their own accord. I knelt in front of him and he glanced up.

"Go away," he muttered, his voice rough as he hastily drew the wet sleeve of his shirt across his face in an attempt to hide the fact that he'd been crying.

But I didn't step back or leave. No, because sometimes, people didn't mean what they said, and I knew for a fact that Joey Addison certainly didn't. Reaching forward, I slowly wound my arms around his neck. He stiffened at first, muscles tense and rigid beneath my touch as I drew him closer.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck and murmured, "I hate that I'm so fucked-up just because of a stupid breakup."

I pulled back slightly. "You're not fucked-up. You're just broken. But then again," I mused, with a small smile playing on my lips. "Aren't we all?"