[ WP ] While everyone else finds someone who completes them , you find someone who cancels you out ...

Vin stared into the bottom of his drink, watching the ice melt. He brought the glass up to his lips, fishing for a stray drop of bourbon. Upon finding only water, he set it back down on the counter and let out a dramatic sigh. `` It's useless,'' he said, just loud enough to pierce through din in the bar. In his periphery, nobody reacted, neither the pretty blonde to his left nor the striking redhead to his right. Vin sighed again, this time with sincerity. His drunken fingers twitched and upset the glass, spilling melted ice onto the bar. 
 
 `` If you wanted another drink, all you had to do was ask.'' Wanja stormed up to Vin, armed with a rag, and in three wipes made the mess vanish. As Vin opened his wallet, noise besieged his inebriated senses. Moments passed that were n't saved to memory. When he came to, he found himself with a refilled drink and ten missing dollars. Three seats down, Hurricane Wanja was ravaging another patron's billfold. Vin wondered what he had missed, then remembered everything was still useless. He shrugged and lapped at his bourbon, receding into the bar once more. 
 
 `` Hey, Wanga...'' Vin flagged down the bartender as she blew past. His tongue fought through invisible cotton to force the words out. `` Give a regular a discount, why do n't you?'' He held up his third empty glass of the night. 
 
 `` No can do,'' she said, whisking it away before he dropped it, `` I do n't set the prices.'' 
 
 `` Come on, girl.'' Vin groaned as an anxiety roiled in his stomach, pushing through his drunken stupor. It was clear, sober, and unwelcome, a reminder that he had spent half his day's paycheck in the three hours proceeding it. The feeling expanded inside of him, threatening to swallow him back into the present, and Vin found himself needing but lacking an anchor. Seeing no sympathy in Wanja's eyes, he sighed and fished for his wallet. `` Give me another.'' 
 
 As she poured, Vin stared at her braid. It swung teasingly with each slight movement. `` You're a beautiful girl, Wanga.'' 
 
 Wanja smiled without looking up. She set the drink onto the coaster with more force than usual, splashing stray drops of liquor onto the bar. As she wiped them away, Vin continued, `` I want someone to complete me. I want you to—'' 
 
 `` Sir, I'm flattered, but I'll have to ask you to stop right there.'' Wanja looked up, her lips pursed in a half-frown. `` Please, just enjoy your drink.'' 
 
 Vin saw her trying to tear away from the scene. He knew that if she did, she would never come back, not until last call. `` Why?'' His hand stammered forward, feeling its way across the bartop, reaching out for Wanja or maybe his drink. `` Why not me?'' 
 
 Vin twitched and once again spilled his drink. The mess was a real mess this time, brown, ugly, and sticky. This time, his neighbors noticed; they craned their necks over the bar, then turned away with whispers and giggles. Vin slipped further into his drunkenness, allowing it to numb his embarrassment, and dropped his head into his lap, waiting silently as Wanja uprighted the glass and attacked the spill with her rag. It disappeared as quickly as the last, leaving no trace behind. 
 
 Wanja bustled away without a word or a backwards glance, leaving Vin to stew in the futility of it all. He remained still for a few seconds longer, then finally looked up. Wanja had shifted to the other end of the bar and was filling drinks from the fountain. Vin's gaze lingered until the longing became too much, and with a sigh, he turned back to his glass. To his surprise, it was magically full again. He had n't even noticed Wanja had refilled it.
