I'll let myself get hurt all over again.

- i'm captivated by you, baby, like a firework show -

He looked in disgust as he saw countless teenagers grinding against each other on the neon dance floor. Strobe lights of the rainbow flashed in a bizarre harmony, and the music was screwing with his eardrums. Ugh, why did he even come in the first place?

And he saw…her.

This girl that looked like an angel.

She was…breathtaking. Breathtakingly beautiful.

He watched as she wandered through the noisy crowd and found the counter. He watched as she sat down on one of the flaming red stools and ordered a drink. He watched as the bartender tried to flirt with her. And he noticed his legs unconsciously inching closer to her…

And he watched as she finally broke.

Tears ruining her make-up that she worked on forever, her frame sinking lower, her fingers tightening their grip on the brown glass bottle.

No one cared, not even that flirtatious bartender. No one except him.

And he found himself walking to her, sitting beside her, and offering her a clean Kleenex.

She looked up (and stunned him once more), took it, and whispered a wispy "thank you."

But she continued drinking.

"It's his fault," she randomly choked out, in between two of her many swigs.

He shut up, and listened.

"Is it worth it to love when you'll just get hurt?" Amidst the loud, throbbing blasts of ridiculous lyrics and a horrid beat, he could still hear her soft voice rather clearly.

"He dared," she whimpered, slamming the bottle on the marble counter and coarsely screaming for more.

She snatched over a new bottle from the now, frightened bartender. "He fucking dared to leave me."

She took a long, hard swig. "I hate him," she bitterly said, her head hanging low, as if she were shameful or something.

"I really, really hate him."

"If he made you like that, then I guess I hate him too," he replied, stunned at what he just said. What was with his brain tonight!

It's the music's fault, it's the freaking music's fault…

She looked up, again. And he was stunned, again. Was that a blush on his face?

It's the light's fault, it's the freaking light's fault…

"Really?" she tilted her head, and proceeded to forcefully hug him, spilling some liquor on his shirt. Not like he minded.

"Thank you."

"Umm, no problem," he pulled away.

"I'm still very well sober, you know," she muttered, as she tried to get up. She held the edge of the counter as she tried to balance herself; her head feeling as if it were going to explode any second now.

"I don't think so," he commented with a chuckle, as he hopped down and held her hand. "Okay now?"

Just as she was about to answer, the crowd began chanting. Both pairs of eyes flashed to a giant LCD screen that counted down with the crowd.






And couples broke out in a face smooching frenzy.

'Should I?'

'Would he?'

"Screw it all," he said, as he brought her closer to him and his lips met hers.

'I guess…I'll let myself get hurt all over again.'

And the fireworks smiled down at the two of them.