Serendipity

With the night brings the stars.

Even though I was indoors, inside a glass elevator, I knew that the brightest star was watching me. That She was watching me.

And She knew exactly what I was doing.

The elevator made a graceful halt at the top of the building, the roof. Me, Amber, and Samantha filed out, the three of us dressed up for this party.

Amber came from a wealthy family with many connections, and was invited to a New Years Eve party, and was also allowed to bring two friends. Samantha was an obvious choice, but instead of bringing Victoria she brought me along. Something about me being to shy and timid and needing to meet other people. I hated meeting new people, much less going to huge social interactions. Just something about the dozens, if not hundreds of strangers who could be anyone. The person standing next to you or was talking with your best friend could be a stalker, a pedophile, or a serial killer. 

Literally anyone.

Amber led us through the congested crowd towards a stone fire pit with a circle of sofas around it, wealthy men and women there. One of them, who seemed to know Amber, stopped the conversation they were having and put on a cheerful smile.

"Hello, Amber. Long time no see."

Her lips curled into the gorgeous smile I've always identified her with, it was as if she was born to be a model. Anyone would be attracted to her, especially once they got to know her. Her radiant, pleasant personality with that smile was a lethal combination.

"Nice to see you, Donatello."

I immediately recognized that name, it was an old friend of hers, the son of a rich family who was known for their brilliant artwork. Paintings, sculptures, ceramics, that family could do any of it with godly skill. Donatello was named after the renaissance sculptor, who was known for making the Saint George and Penitent Magdalene sculptures. And this man shaking Amber's hand had skill as brilliant, if not better than Donatello. Just attending one of his art shows blew my mind of how gifted he was at his medium.

"These are my friends, Samantha and Harper."

Samantha shook his hand, calm and confident as if she had been practicing this moment dozens of times until it was perfect.

If only I was as extroverted and outgoing as them.

"Pleasure to meet you, Harper."

Donatello outstretched his hand towards me, and I nervously shook it, my thin arm feeling weak in his strong grip.

"N-nice to meet you too." I stuttered, feeling self conscious of my every move and word already.

And this outfit wasn't helping either.

My friends picked out this navy blue high-low strapless dress. Normally I would be wearing a large sweater and jeans with worn out sneakers, so showing this much skin was weird and foreign to me. I wanted to put on my winter coat and hide in the corner, but knowing my friends they would control me with a remote if they could. 

Samantha and Amber sat down on either side of Donatello, joining in their conversation. Amber likely knew most of these people, so fitting into the crowd must be easy for her. I found an open spot and sat down, listening to their conversation as I picked at the skin around my nails, a weird habit I've always had whenever I'm nervous. No matter what time of year or day it is, there is always a few scabs around my nails from just how much skin I've peeled away when I'm nervous. 

I felt someone nudge my arm, and a stranger leaned in close to my ear.

"Let's get outta here."

I don't know this person.

I wanted to stay here. Even though I didn't know half these people I wanted to be near Samantha and Amber, I felt safer here than anywhere else. Especially on New Years Eve.

"W-Who are-"

"Hey, Amber! You don't mind if I talk with your friend, right?" He asked, putting the both of us on the spot.

Amber's face lit up in excitement, and her angelic voice brought forth the last thing I wanted to do here.

"Of course! Go have fun!" She exclaimed, as someone gave her a glass of champagne.

The stranger wrapped an arm around my torso and led me through the crowd, keeping me close to him. I was practically trembling, from fear of who he was and what he was doing. 

He took me to a bar and got each of us a beer, and then sat down at the counter. He drank his bottle faster than I could snap my fingers, but I refused to consume any alcohol, especially here, with people who could do anything they wanted to me once I was intoxicated.

"So, I've heard you're an artist, an aspiring graphic designer, right?" He asked, grabbing another beer.

"Y-yeah..." 

This guy was not my age, he was at least five years older, and had an income at least triple my own. He probably was used to women being all over him. 

I wasn't like that. I didn't want to come here in the first place.

I just wanted to spend a quiet, peaceful night at home in my pajamas, drinking peach tea and falling asleep at ten PM. Not at a party with a bunch of drunk rich people.

I pushed the beer away, the guy's eyebrows lifting in confusion and surprise.

"I-I'm sorry, I think I should go."

"H-hey!"

I quickly rushed into the crowd, getting away from the bar. A number of insults were hurled my way, snappy remarks from people who cared more about their stupid dresses and tuxedos than my situation. I eventually found a corner of the rooftop with the smallest amount of people, no arrogant heirs ready to yell at me.

I leaned against the railing, digging into my purse to get my cigarettes and lighter, quickly lighting one and putting it in my mouth.

What's wrong with me?

I was socially awkward as hell and I had no many nervous ticks. Smoking, picking at my skin, peeling the skin off my lips with my teeth, anything that distracted me from the present. Even though it made me look less attractive and was embarrassing, it was better than just standing there, forcing myself to drink in what was happening. My escapes brought me so much ease, no matter how much they hurt or how often I do it.

"You don't usually attend parties, don't you?"

I was startled by another gentleman, this one far younger and less pushy than the last. He looked only a year or two older than me, and had this lopsided smile that was both terrifying and comforting to me. Both that, and the way his brown hair did whatever the hell it wanted on his head and the piercings in his ears, most likely real gold too. 

It reminded me of someone I would find in the art community, which was even more comforting.

"Yeah. My friends dragged me here, to supposedly help me meet new people and get me out of my damn house." 

I realized I probably said too much for a response, but he chuckled lightheartedly.

"Well, I guess I understand why you ran away from my cousin. Besides, he's kind of a douche anyway. Always trying to get a girl, but gets more drunk than ten indians before he even gets a shot."

I laughed, even more glad of my decision to leave that guy. I was happy to find someone here who was willing to joke around with me, maybe even have a goofy conversation.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what's your name? I couldn't quite catch it." He asked, peering at my pack of cigarettes eagerly.

I chuckled and handed him one, lighting it for him. 

"I'm Harper, and yours?"

"Damien."

I blew a lungful of smoke away from the rooftop, towards the busy city. The countdown was within the hour, and the streets were packed. It didn't matter that it was nearly midnight, the entire city was engulfed in light. The entire city was awake and alive.

"Hey,"

I turned my head back towards him, feeling eager to hear what he had to say.

"Wanna get out of here? To be honest, I kinda hate parties too."

I nodded quickly and he grabbed my hand before taking me through the crowd to the elevator. He pushed the button that took us to the fifth floor, not the ground floor. He must've noticed my confusion, and explained.

"This is my family's casino with a hotel above it, and private rooms for special guests and close partners. If you want, we can stay in my room for New Years."

Damien could literally be anyone. A stalker, a pedophile, or a serial killer. But he could also just be a nice guy who wanted to help me out.

"Sure."

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor, and we excitedly hurried into Damien's room, which was much more luxurious than I could have ever expected. A king-size bed with a maroon comforter and pillows, chandeliers made entirely of glass, or perhaps even diamonds. A huge window gave us a view of the city, with satin curtains to help hide us away. Soft sofas and gold lamps and decorations adorned the room, making my eyes widen even more.

"We have about half an hour before midnight, what do you want to do? We can watch the countdown on the television if you like, or order something to eat." He suggested.

However, there was something that caught my eye.

"You draw?"

On a gorgeous wooden desk was a large sketchbook and some charcoal pencils and sticks, a drawing in progress on the open page. It was of the Pieta, one of Michelangelo's most famous sculptures.

"Yeah. Although I was only going to be here for a day or two, I never leave home without my sketchbook and a few pencils."

I examined the drawing even more, the attention to detail and the perfect blending gave me an idea. An idea that was daring for me, but would pass the time. 

"Do you want to draw me?"

For being a stranger, I could feel myself being attracted to him.

I didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was his good looks, his comforting demeanor, or the fact that he was an artist too. But I was glad I met him tonight, either way. Being with him really calmed my nerves. Samantha and Amber were probably going to be shocked if they ever heard about this.

But right now, I didn't care. 

I was standing by the window, my dress dragging behind me as I held an unlit cigarette in my hand, towards my mouth. Damien was silently drawing, the sound of his pencils striking the paper audible from where I was standing. His hazel eyes were darting back and forth between me and the paper, his attention focused completely on his masterpiece.

I noticed that it was nearly midnight, but I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to disturb him, especially since he was what we artist's call "the zone". 

However, this silence made me think more and more about Her. 

What would She think?

Ever since She died, I was always against meeting new people and going to huge social events. They terrified me, and I wanted to ensure that I didn't die the same way she did. Being with Damien made me feel guilty, guilty that I was being treated like a princess but she meet a horrible fate which cost her life. 

The thought of what happened to her, and the sight of her body made my eyes sting with tears.

"Are you okay?"

Damien noticed my face reddening, and I let out a weak sob before I completely lost it. Tears streamed down my face, Damien putting down his sketchbook before hurrying towards me, a worried expression on his face. He pulled me into his chest as I wept, my tears staining his suit, but he didn't care.

"No, I'm not okay."

I got the shoulder to cry on, She didn't.

She rotted away in a shed in the middle of nowhere, beaten and used until her body gave up. She had to cry by herself, her salty tears soaking the filthy earth instead of the tender embrace of another human being.

Now her broken and lifeless body was in a casket.

I missed Her. I missed her silky blonde hair, her ocean-blue eyes. Her perfection and holiness that brought me comfort whenever I needed it. She deserved the world, she deserved whatever she wanted. The perfect career, the perfect man, the perfect looks, the perfect life. 

But no, she died before any of that could happen.

And her loser of a sister ended up with the good fate.

"Help me... it hurts, everything hurts..."

"What hurts?"

I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision but I could see the warm and loving care in his worried face.

"Everything... Please, help me..."

He led me towards the bed, letting me lay down. He laid beside he, lovingly caressing my cheek with his warm hand. My hands desperately held his other, my thumb rubbing his palm in circles. 

"Damien, I... I feel so guilty. I lost someone because they went to a party, and never came home alive. But here I am, safe and sound with you and I'm not receiving the same fate she got."

He was silent, either thinking that I was some needy creep who wanted a man's attention to her problems or he was shocked at my personal confession. I hoped he didn't think I was weird or something, I didn't want to ruin tonight. I truly didn't. But my emotions got the best of me and now here I am, ruining everything.

"I'm sorry, I just... this is some stuff I've been thinking about a lot for a long time, but I shouldn't have just spilled it right now when we're supposed to have fun." I apologized, looking away from him in shame.

But even my shame couldn't stop me from thinking about Her, and it only made me feel even worse.

I couldn't even imagine how lonely she was. How much it hurt, every waking moment. Her final breath must've been heaven for her, her soul achieving nirvana and her spirit becoming one with god. Her beautiful psyche had now become the brightest star in the sky, watching me like a guardian angel.

"Harper, I-I'm so sorry." 

Through my crying, I pulled Damien's hand towards my chest, hoping that maybe his touch could cure my broken heart.

"Damien, please make me stop hurting."

Without thinking, I grabbed him by the collar and let my lips snatch his own, his surprise visible in his now wide eyes. I didn't know if he even wanted this, I didn't even know if I did, but I didn't care. Years of locking myself away in grief, hoping that maybe art could drain this agony out of me through sketchbooks. Even dozens of sketchbooks filled to the brim in my sorrow couldn't get rid of any of it, and it didn't make me any less of a coward. I was chained to this pathetic hope that one day I won't be hurt anymore.

But perhaps, I needed a person to do it for me.

Damien moved on top of me, digging his lips into mine as I felt the empty chasm inside me fade away and turn into the Elysium Fields. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as his lips traveled to my neck, provoking a noise from me.

His tie came loose, and I tossed it aside as his hands wrapped around me, one in my dark hair and the other gingerly holding my waist.

No matter how badly I want to see how this relationship could go...

We can't be together.

My sister's death, it would only make this relationship toxic. I would only be using Damien for my own selfish desires to help me cope. He wouldn't be happy, he shouldn't have a pathetic girl like me hold him back from his success. I know within a few years, everyone in this city will know his name and he will earn millions from his art. I will probably be working at a small cafe, watching as he climbed to the top.

Maybe, by then...

He would've forgotten me. He would be surrounded by other successful men and women, too busy to bother remembering the girl he spent New Years with.

In the end, I was a nobody.

He was born to be remembered.

But I was so grateful for him to be here tonight, for him to bring me more happiness than I've had in over six years.

I prayed that I'd see him tonight.

I told myself three years ago that I wouldn't see him again, but even waving at him would make me happy. Though I doubt he even remembered me.

As I predicted, he gained the attention of millions and his art is recognized nationwide, almost internationally. I managed to get a ticket to one of his art shows, and the whopping prices of his pieces assured me that I won't be buying any of his artwork anytime soon.

As I passed one of his newest paintings, I found a section full of his drawings, a few I recognized from the sketchbook I saw three years ago. The drawing of the Pieta, which was completely finished and was now being sold.

However, I found a drawing that I never thought would end up here, of all places.

It was from the New Years three years ago, finished and had been labeled, “Display only”.

“Serendipity”.