𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗦𝗼 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 | 𝑇𝑆𝑉 𝐹𝐹

7 | Earl Grey Milk Tea with Black Tapioca Pearls

Eddy simply hums once again. His limbs were already comfortable against the sheets of the bed, and his head was already making its new home on the pillow it was resting on. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get up even if he wanted to.

"Come on." Brett whines, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull him up from the bed. "It would all be a waste if you don't do this. I would've been a waste!"

Eddy's eyes shoot open, and he's sitting up in a matter of seconds.

He'll break.
He'll break.
He'll...

Break. And Eddy will...
Disappear.

"Fine. Let's go." And he's putting on his shoes hastily.

-

He finds himself situated in a seat at a bar inside a club, his head dizzy by the unbearable sound of the bass of the music breaking his eardrums. Brett is next to him, giving him occasional smiles when he looks over at him. His skin looks so out of place in contrast to the darkness of the club, the rhythmic lights dancing on his body. He's pale, he's a snow kind of white.

Eddy can't seem to distract himself from his thoughts, even as he downs another shot of whiskey, all the liquor ends up doing is stir his stomach into an even bigger ball of nerves. There's people dancing around him, some wearing scandalous clothing and grinding on each other, and there's people like him who rather be alone.

He's had his fair share of club experiences: the result of being dragged by Brett multiple times during their early adult years. Nothing much has changed in that perspective. He's still able to be dragged by Brett by simple words, simple syllables. Brett didn't even have to try very hard to get Eddy to do what he wanted. It's always been that way.

Eddy wasn't very the drinking type, I mean, no one likes a hangover and he doesn't enjoy blaring headaches the next morning. He preferred staying home and watching a movie rather than socializing with people and having one night stands, he knew a lot of his friends would disagree with him on that. Well the few friends he has anyway.

"What are you thinking about?"

That's not Brett's voice.

He turned to look at Brett, but he wasn't there. He most likely went to dance, he always enjoyed doing that anyway.

Eddy then turns to look at a young man who was staring at him, a small smile on his lips and his wrist moving in a circular movement, spinning his glass slowly.

"Excuse me?" Eddy asks, raising an eyebrow towards the stranger.

The man chuckles, shaking his head. "My apologies. It seemed like you weren't here— mentally. You just look so sad." He chuckles once again.

"No no. It's alright." Eddy says quickly, and he averts his gaze down to the table, his empty glass shone brightly, reflecting the lights of the club. He hates socializing.

"Are you okay?" The man asks, his smile gone and replaced by a tight frown, his eyes were staring intensely into Eddy's mind and soul.

Eddy nodded.

The man hums.

They sit in silence, Eddy ordered another shot of whiskey to calm his nerves, of course it wouldn't work but the thought that it would was comforting enough for him. He downed the drink in an instant, staring into the table even more. The whiskey was cold. He moved a hand to trace circles on the scar on his arm. The mark. The whiskey sat in his stomach, he could feel the way it cooled his entire body, the bitter taste lingered on his tongue.