They'd been at the beer station for hours, and the darkness outside had deepened to a dull, oppressive black. The air inside was thick with the smell of stale beer and fried food, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead keeping time in a way that felt both familiar and ominous. The table was cluttered, empty bottles scattered around like forgotten memories. There was no music, no chatter to mask the silence between them. Just the sound of their own voices, hushed and slow, like they were wading through something they didn't fully understand.
Ko Aung cracked open a fresh bottle. He didn't look up as he did it, just a quick motion, familiar and automatic. His eyes kept flicking over to his friends, but he didn't really see them—not in the way he used to. It felt like time had stretched between them, pulling them further apart, even as they sat together.
Ko Zay was slouched low in his seat, head resting back against the wall, his eyes closed, trying to escape the weight of it all. He hadn't said much for the past hour, just taking swigs of beer, each one deeper than the last. He'd been the first one to suggest coming here, but now that they were here, he didn't seem to know what to do with himself.
Finally, it was Ko Zay broke his silence through the chatter of the group, his voice hoarse, barely audible. "Min Zaw... he said something," he muttered, his eyes still closed, as if saying it out loud might make it real.
Ko Aung didn't look at him but turned the bottle in his hands, the label crinkling under his fingers. "Yeah. 'Her,'" he said quietly, but the word felt too heavy in the air, too loaded. "I keep thinking about it. The way he said it."
Kyaw Lin let out a long breath and took a swig of his beer, his throat tight as the liquid burned down. "He just kept saying it. Over and over... 'Her.' Like we were supposed to know." His voice faltered slightly, and he shook his head. "But I don't get it. None of us do."
Ko Zay's lips twisted into something like a half-smile, but there was no humor in it. "Maybe he was just fucked up. Maybe it didn't mean anything. We were all drunk. He was probably just—" He paused, the words getting caught in his throat. He didn't know how to finish that sentence. Instead, he took another drink, the glass clinking as he set it down.
Kyaw Lin leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, a frown tugging at his brow. "It doesn't feel like it was nothing, though. We all heard him. He wasn't just rambling. It felt like..." His voice trailed off, like he was afraid to finish the thought. "Like he was trying to tell us something."
Ko Aung kept his eyes trained on the bottle in his hands, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the sides. He was quiet for a long time, as if the weight of the words was too much to bear. "Maybe he was just scared," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe he didn't know what was happening, and neither did we."
Ko Aung sighed, the sound deep and worn. His fingers gripped the neck of the bottle harder, like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. "Maybe he saw who thew the acid on him?"
Ko Zay scoffed, a harsh laugh escaping him. "You think that makes it better? Look at us. We've been sitting here, what, four hours now, and none of us can even figure out what happened."
The table went quiet again. They drank, but the alcohol didn't feel like it was doing anything anymore. It wasn't numbing the pain. It wasn't giving them answers. It wasn't even filling the space between them. It was just something to do, something to hold on to, because silence had started to feel like the loudest thing in the room.
Kyaw Lin let out a shaky breath, his fingers fumbling with the bottle in his hands. "I don't remember the last time I felt this... empty. I keep thinking there's something I should be remembering, but it's just... gone." His voice cracked slightly, but he didn't care to hide it. "It doesn't make sense. We were all there, why didn't anyone else see her?". The words landed with a weight that hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Ko Aung's gaze shifted to his friends, his heart racing in his chest. The tension had shifted—something was different now. The air between them wasn't just thick with alcohol and regret; it was thick with something else. Something darker.
Ko Zay's eyes flicked to him for a brief second, before looking away. They all sat there, silent once again, each lost in their own thoughts, trapped in the same cycle. Drinking wasn't helping. The questions weren't going away. The truth—whatever it was—still hung there, out of reach, like something just beyond their fingertips.
The night dragged on.