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Who says you can’t have a fun night out? Besides Wyndolyn… and maybe the rest of your appliances. Regardless, you proved them wrong. You put on the the most fantastic red shirt you weren’t aware you possessed as Sam dragged you outside your house for the first time in forever. It was a blast, if you’re not counting the hours spent waiting outside of the club only to be greeted with glaring strobing lights and migraine inducing music. If you’re being honest, it was a terrible return to society. After months of living like a hermit and talking only to an assortment of items living within your walls, the crowds of people made you feel major uneasy. With Sam ditching you to enjoy the dance floor, you found yourself firmly planted at the bar draining your credit card with wildly overpriced alcoholic beverages. God, you longed for your dateviators.
Hours passed and you hadn’t talked to anyone beside Sam, and that was only for the brief moments she touched down at the bar for a pick-me-up shot just to promptly return to the dance floor. Nobody had even complimented your shirt! You know the objects waiting for you at home would have. With a splitting headache incoming, a result of the music or the copious amount of alcohol you consumed you didn’t know, you closed your tab and stood up from your stool making your way over to the dance floor. Packed like a sardine can, you shoved and pushed your way over to Sam as you swallowed your discomfort in this crowded space. Your throat burned from the drinks and bile was rising. When you finally made your way towards Sam you waited a beat until you finally caught her eye.
You steadied yourself as you swayed, sweat pooling at your brow from the sudden increase of humidity on the dance floor.
“I’m going to call an Uber and leave” you shouted over the loud music and shuffle of the crowd. You hoped Sam could hear you.
Sam smiled in return, praise be the lord, she could understand you despite the rumble of the crowd.
“Text me when you get home!” She responded.
You gave her a shaky smile and an awkward thumbs up as you nodded. You turned and pushed your way out of the mob of similarly inebriated people, stumbling as you finally found yourself off of the dance floor. An relieved exhale escaped your lips when you left that hell hole of an establishment and found comfort in the cool cutting air of the night. You fumbled with your phone for a little as you ordered a ride to take you home. Standing outside of the club now, you reached to fidget with your glasses as you waited, only to nearly poke your eye out as you forgot the dateviators weren’t on your face. You took a mental note of how integrated the dateviators were in your everyday life now, missing Skylar’s guidance on the most basic tasks. You wondered what the pink-haired woman was doing right now, or the rest of the objects for that matter, having the house to themselves.
You were jolted out of your thoughts by your buzzing phone followed by the sound of screeching tires. Seems like your ride is here.
The ride was quiet, which is probably one of the best things that has happened tonight. Clumsily inserting your key and unlocking your door, your stomach swirls as you regret drinking without anything to eat. You wobble inside and lock the door. Unsteadily you climb up the stairs into your bedroom, putting your whole weight on the bed as you sit down on it. You kick off your shoes, your feet sore despite the substantial lack of dancing you did. You fall back, sprawling yourself out on the bed as you move to unbutton your fantastic red shirt. Your fingers can’t seem to find the buttons as your head throbs. You’ve definitely had too much to drink tonight. Sighing, you look towards the ceiling, then to the headboard, in the corner of your eye something captures your attention. On the dresser the pink and orange gradient of your dateviators stand out and in the midst of your brain fog you realize that's why the house has been so silent, so empty.
Without a second thought, you climb up your bed, arm outstretched reaching for you dateviators. Your shirt half unbuttoned and face flushed from the drinks, you place the dateviators on and the world becomes the colourful hue you’ve grown accustomed to.
“Hellooooo” a familiar voice speaks cheerfully from behind you as you turn your body around and sit up to face them.
You see Skylar at the foot of your bed and whatever else she was going to say is caught in her throat as she observes you, taking in the unkempt hair, the smudged make-up, unbuckled belt, flushed face, and half-open shirt. Her eyes go wide for a second, in your hazy thoughts you think that for a second maybe her face became a matching dusty pink. She swallows then clears her throat, regaining her composure.
“Must have had a fun night huh?” She questions as she adverts her gaze. “You seem like you,” Skylar pauses, thinking of what to say, “had a good time.” She finishes awkwardly, gesturing at you.
You let out an obnoxious laugh and a grin widely as you nod exaggeratedly.
“Uhuh uhuh, fun like you wouldn’t believe” you respond and throw up a few finger guns at her with false bravo. Your head still feels hazy as you run your hand through your hair. “If fun is downing a few drinks by yourself”, you mutter and visibility deflate.
Skylar winces for a second, worried, “A few?”, she ask with an eyebrow raised. Based on your current state she’s under the impression you had a considerable amount more than just, ‘a few’.
You seemingly ignore her saying, “Yknow I don’t know how people my age do it”, you blow a strand of hair out of your face exasperatedly, slurring your words. “The dancing, the socializing, the noise,” you stop for a second. “It’s all just… too much”, you said thoughtfully lowering your gaze.
Still by the foot of your bed, Skylar moves in front of you and crouches to appear eye level. She reaches out, slowly, and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again, unsure of her next words.
You take her hand off of your shoulder, and hold it up to your cheek in a mock caress.
“If it wasn’t for you Skylar, I don’t think I’d have any friends besides Sam maybe”, you speak quietly. “I just,” you struggle to find the words for a moment, “I think you’re amazing Skylar”. You give her a small smile and observe the different specks of pink and orange in her eyes, “I’m glad you’re in my life”.
Skylar brushes a hair out of your face with her other hand and gently brings it to the other side of your face, “I’m glad you’re in mine. I’m glad I was sent to you because I know I’m in good hands.” She says softly. Her face moves closer as she observes you under the dim lighting of your bedroom, your watery eyes, soft smile, ruffled clothes. She feels the warmth of your face under her fingertips.
To Skylar, you looked so delicate like this. She was fond of you from the start, yes. She remembered you, cute and confused, starry-eyed and clinging to every word she said. You were always helpful and kind to other objects, and even helped uphold her suspension of disbelief. With your head resting in her hands she understood why the other objects around the house adored you, how some of them looked at you as if you hung the moon and stars.
Your eyes still saw only her as you spoke, “I like you Skylar”, eyes fluttering with a soft giggle. “Like a lot”, if you were sober you’d think about how childish you sounded, but in your stupor you felt your soul pour out. Your voice even quieter as you leaned even closer to her, she could feel your soft breath as you spoke, “Don’t tell the others, but you're my favorite”.
She took in your words, studied them, envisioned them. She moved her hands from your face to your shoulders, gently guiding your body down as she climbed onto the bed. Her face hovering above yours, as her long pink hair pools around you.
“Skylar”, you say breathlessly, “please”.
With your soft plea she takes this as permission to close the gap between the two of you with a kiss as you return it eagerly below her. Just moments ago the world felt fuzzy around you, but now, it fades you. There’s nothing else on your mind except you and her.
And while Skylar can faintly taste alcohol upon your lips, she knows that it's you she’s drunk on.