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"No more champagne?" Trina said, tilting her glass up, willing it to have a tiny droplet of the golden fizz left.
Mendel shook his head at his lover, laughing inwardly, every new year she did this; drinking champagne as if there was going to be a world shortage. Despite the four hours or so of continuous drinking, she still managed to regain her soft perfection. At least to him. Her fluffy hair had long since fallen out of it's braid, instead curling around her glittery shoulders. Her eyeshadow has smudged too from when she'd cried at the bells, leaving a rosy trail all around her eyes. God, she was adorable.
"Oh, Mendel. It's the end of the party, everything seems so," She paused, searching for the appropriate word, "grey." She leaned back against the wall dramatically, kicking her stilettos off in the general direction of the door. The beginnings of tears were welling up in her eyes again, making the world go blurry and condensing all the fairy lights into one yellow ball. Like the sun, but drunk.
Mendel walked over too her, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, "Shhh, Trin, It's okay. It's okay. I think it's time to get you to bed."
His lover raised her eyes, obviously trying to process what he'd just said. She stared into his warm brown eyes, and they felt like home. Like as if they could somehow understand her, much, much more than she'd ever understand herself. And they loved her, despite their understanding, and they always would. If she could just look at those eyes all of her life, she would. In a heartbeat. At last, Trina allowed herself to lean into his soft woolly cardigan, and let him lead her upstairs, tripping like a child on an ice rink at every other step.
Trina lay down on the bed, the soft blanket slipping away underneath her, "Oh, we're all fools. We think we'll be okay, we never know when we're astray, we just keep fucking going anyway."
Mendel looked at his wife, his brain desperately trying to understand what the in the flying fuck that was supposed to mean. Two in the morning was no time for observations on society. Especially not after you'd just had about eight glasses of vodka. He contented himself by giving her what he hoped was a knowing smile and sitting down on the bed.
"It just hurts so much," She continued, putting her arm round him, starting to rock her lover gently, "how all the dreams we've had before, they're all gone, nothing more than confetti on the floor."
She unbuttoned Mendel's cardigan, reminding him it was unsafe to sleep in it in case he choked or something. He responded to the cardigan unbuttoning and the poetic speech by falling asleep in her arms, snuggling in to her warmth. She sighed and looked down at him, gently stroking his hair. He looked so peaceful in the dim bedroom light, eyes fluttering in that sleepy way they do when you've just fallen asleep. How goddamn lucky she was.
"It's the end of a decade, in another ten years time, who can say what we'll find, what lies waiting down the line?" She said to herself, trying to remove her glittery dress without disturbing her sleeping husband. In ten years, they'd be having their twenty year anniversary, all going well. Hopefully they'd have a little babey too. More cats? Almost certainly. Manoeuvring the blankets round so they covered both of them, she intertwined her fingers with her lovers, gave him a final goodnight kiss, and lay down to sleep, quietly dreading the headache that would surely come tomorrow.
"Happy New Year, Happy New Year," she whispered into the still nothingness of the room, and with that, fell asleep to dream of sheep, glitter and more champagne