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The night had stretched on longer than Penelope had anticipated. What was supposed to be just one more quick drink after the rest of the group had departed had morphed into a prolonged vigil of sorts - her eyes fixed on Colin as he slowly drank himself into a state of oblivion. This behavior was a familiar pattern for Colin. He had a tendency to overindulge when something burdened his mind. Yet, the effect was never aggressive or belligerent. Instead, he became a contemplative soul who stared deep into his glass, as if it contained the truths of the universe, and began to voice assertions about life, the world, and any other thoughts that passed through his head.
Penelope had known him long enough to recognize his cues - the tapping of his fingers against the glass when he was lost in thought, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes, and the glances he cast her way, as though a secret lay just beneath the surface, waiting to be unveiled. It was evident he was mulling over something - or perhaps someone.
“You’re unusually quiet tonight,” Penelope remarked, swirling the last remnants of her drink, the ice clinking against the glass. Colin sighed, the sound almost a whisper as he drummed his fingers against the wooden table.
“M'thinking,” he replied.
“Oh, that’s a dangerous endeavor,” she teased. He responded with a chuckle, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes, but he remained silent as he took another sip of his amber whiskey, leaning back in the plush booth, stretching his legs until his foot brushed against hers under the table. He made no attempt to withdraw, leaving it there, as if the touch was the most natural thing in the world. Penelope tried to brush aside the sudden thrill that coursed through her at the contact.
Colin allowed his head to rest against the back of the booth, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling, lost in thought. “Do you ever think about how strange it is that people just… exist?” he asked. Penelope contemplated his words, the weight of them settling in the air between them.
“Not particularly,” she replied, a flicker of curiosity igniting within her.
“No, no, really—think about it,” he urged, gesturing vaguely with his hand, nearly toppling over his glass in the process. “All these people walking around, having their own thoughts, living their own lives, doing... stuff. And none of us really know what goes on inside each other’s heads.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Is this where you reveal you’ve discovered the meaning of life?” she asked, feigning incredulity. He hummed, as if pretending to weigh the question.
“Might be,” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.
“Well, if that’s the case, I think you’re compelled to share it,” she quipped. Colin squinted, as if debating within himself whether to disclose whatever was on his mind. Then, like a curtain being drawn back, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table in front of them.
“You want to know what I think?” he asked in earnest. Penelope tilted her head in amusement.
“Always,” she replied, her smile broadening. He nodded, then reached for his drink - at least, he attempted to. Instead, his fingers wrapped around the base of the flickering candle that stood between them. For a fleeting moment, she watched as he lifted it an inch off the table. As realization dawned, he froze, and with a jolt, he set it back down, his eyes snapping toward hers.
“Colin,” Penelope said, suppressing a laugh as she bit her lip. He exhaled, running his hand over his face in a gesture of embarrassment.
“You saw that, didn’t you?”
“Oh, definitely,” she replied, laughter bubbling up as she reached for her drink. But when she lifted her gaze, she found Colin was watching her - not just with the usual glimmer of friendship, but with an intensity that set her heart racing. Something within her glowed at the intimacy of the moment.
“What?” she asked, a tremor of uncertainty in her voice. Colin blinked, as if even he wasn’t quite certain.
Then, with a quirk of his lips resembling the hint of a smile, he murmured, “You know what’s funny? Not the ‘ha-ha’ kind of funny, but the ‘hmm, that’s funny’ kind of funny?”
“Not a clue,” Penelope smirked, her curiosity piqued. “But I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.” He pointed at her, his finger wavering slightly.
“You’re funny,” he stated. She burst into laughter.
“I'll take that as a compliment,” she said, but Colin shook his head, his expression turning serious.
“No, you don’t get it. You - you’re always there.” His voice dropped, the playful tone replaced with emotion. “Always.” Penelope’s breath caught, the sincerity of his words hanging in the air between them.
“That’s what friends are for, Colin,” she said, attempting to keep her tone light despite the warmth rising in her cheeks.
“No, no, it’s not just that.” He frowned, as if grappling with a thought that kept eluding him. “You’re… what’s the word… integral. That’s a good word, right?”
Penelope chuckled. “Very impressive vocabulary for someone who just tried to drink from a candle.”
“That was a test,” he replied with a lopsided smile. “And I passed.”
“Oh, I see. And what, exactly, were you testing?” she asked, her curiosity igniting.
“If I could tell the difference between whiskey and fire,” he declared, as if it were self-evident.
“Well, congratulations,” she proclaimed. “You possess some survival instincts.”
“Damn right, I do,” he grinned. She laughed, but before she could tease him any further, he leaned in closer, his voice softening to a whisper.
“See? You always laugh at my dumb jokes. Even when they’re terrible. Even when I’m being a total idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Penelope said, her voice barely above a whisper, sincerity lacing each word.
“That’s because you’re nice. Too nice.” His gaze lingered on her, the usual playfulness in his eyes replaced with an earnestness that made her heart race. “You take care of me. You remember my favorite foods. You reassure me when I'm feeling low. You make me feel like… like I matter.” Penelope felt the weight of his words wrapping around her like a warm embrace.
“You do matter,” she murmured. Colin exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he gazed deeply into her eyes.
"I dunno," he mumbled. "It’s just… different with you. When you walk in, everything gets better. And when you leave, I keep looking for you. When you get quiet, I find myself scrambling to make you laugh or spark a conversation, just to hear the sweet sound of your voice that can turn my whole day around."
He glanced at her, his gaze piercing through the haze of uncertainty, and for a brief moment, Penelope felt a flicker of hope - perhaps his drunken ramblings held a grain of truth. Yet, just as quickly, he groaned, rubbing his face in frustration, the weight of his own indecision evident.
"It’s stupid," he muttered, his tone laced with self-doubt. "You deserve someone better. Someone who knows how to handle feelings like this." Penelope felt a pang in her chest at his words, her fingers tightening around her glass, the cool surface grounding her amidst her swirling thoughts.
"What feelings?" she asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety. Colin blinked at her, as though the words he wanted to say were trapped behind a fog.
"I just know… when I think about home, it’s not a place - it’s you." The words struck her like a bolt of lightning, leaving her breathless. She swallowed, her pulse thundering as Colin slumped forward, placing his forearms on the table in a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability. His eyelids drooped, and his words began to trail off, barely a whisper now.
"You’re my favourite, Pen," he confessed, as if sharing a long-held secret. "My best girl. My only girl." A rush of emotion surged within her, hope intertwining with disbelief. But before she could find her voice to respond, his head drooped further, and just like that, he was out, completely unaware of the chaos he had left in the wake of his words.
Penelope released a shaky breath, her gaze lingering on him with a mix of shock and longing. Each second felt like a precious gift she wanted to hold onto forever. Her fingers twitched with the desire to reach out, to caress his hair, to savor this moment before it slipped away like grains of sand through her fingers. Instead, she turned her attention to Will, who was busy behind the bar.
"Can you help me get him home?" she asked, the calm tone of her voice a stark contrast to the whirlwind inside her mind. As she glanced back at Colin, head resting against the table, lost to the world, she dared to believe that perhaps his words were more than just the result of a drunken mind. Maybe they held a deeper truth, one she had longed to hear for far too long.
She shook her head, steeling herself against the flood of emotions. First, she needed to ensure he made it home safely. Answers could wait until morning.