we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
He doesn't follow when you leave, which is a small mercy. Not really sure how else to handle the current situation you make your retreat to the edge of the gathering unhindered, grab a shot of whiskey from the bartender, and knock the whole thing back.
If you're going to be a confused idiot, you might as well do it while drunk.
You find a place beside a nearby building, leaning gratefully into the wood. The shot has been replaced by a cup of something strong and fruity; you sip it thoughtfully and try to keep your eyes from drifting back to Sam. Try and fail: you find him easily, the red hair and absurd coat as obvious as a rainbow. He's found a new dance partner and he looks fuckin' happy - and you're glad to see it, you really are, even if a small traitor voice is pointing out that it could have been you.
You return his wave, smiling crookedly with something not unlike bittersweet pride. You'd wanted him to see he doesn't need you, but damnit if it hadn't felt a little good to be needed. You're not what he needs, though: he needs this, fun without inhibition, to be appreciated and enjoyed without any strings attached.
As you sip your drink a woman slides up to you, a black haired local wearing shockingly little who you've met once or twice again. 'Care to dance, Zeph?' she asks in a voice like caramel. And for a moment you seriously consider it, because it would be fun and a great way to distract yourself, to blow off some steam-
"Nah." You turn from her pout to look back at the dancers, wondering what the fuck you're doing with your life.
If you're going to be a confused idiot, you might as well do it while drunk.
You find a place beside a nearby building, leaning gratefully into the wood. The shot has been replaced by a cup of something strong and fruity; you sip it thoughtfully and try to keep your eyes from drifting back to Sam. Try and fail: you find him easily, the red hair and absurd coat as obvious as a rainbow. He's found a new dance partner and he looks fuckin' happy - and you're glad to see it, you really are, even if a small traitor voice is pointing out that it could have been you.
You return his wave, smiling crookedly with something not unlike bittersweet pride. You'd wanted him to see he doesn't need you, but damnit if it hadn't felt a little good to be needed. You're not what he needs, though: he needs this, fun without inhibition, to be appreciated and enjoyed without any strings attached.
As you sip your drink a woman slides up to you, a black haired local wearing shockingly little who you've met once or twice again. 'Care to dance, Zeph?' she asks in a voice like caramel. And for a moment you seriously consider it, because it would be fun and a great way to distract yourself, to blow off some steam-
"Nah." You turn from her pout to look back at the dancers, wondering what the fuck you're doing with your life.
zephyr
