My love Life Is A Cliche

The Eye's Are What Counts. R(eye)t?

 He was drunk.

Really, really drunk.

He wasn't sure if he was going to live to see morning, drunk.

He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to. 

She had left him. Flaming red hair swishing around her like a cloak. Hazel eyes flashing with what once was passion, until she got bored.

He didn't know she was bored. All he knew was that she no longer wanted to go on walks around  small lakes they found hidden in the woods. She didn't want to make homemade brownies with raspberries they picked together hidden in them.

She didn't want to do anything with him, really.

Every time he brought up the idea of doing something that she used to love, she resorted back with used to be fondness and was teasing, but now only held slightly concealed venom. 

He didn't know what he had done wrong.  

She hadn't even told him. She never told him anything. She spoke when necessary. Even her note saying she had gone away, that she was finally willing to admit she wasn't in love anymore. A note for gods sake. She had finally found someone new to explore the world with. 

She always was a free spirit. Wild. Couldn't be contained. It was like trying to write a letter to your grandma explaining that you'd been caught smoking. 

So here he was. Sitting alone at a bar, acting like he was having a slight amount of fun. Like he didn't want to scream and smash himself into a wall. Like he wouldn't also be willing to get hit by a car. Or pull the ground up him as walked off a building.   

He didn't need her anyways.

Right?

The glass in front of him being pulled away was what gathered his attention from his thoughts. 

"Hey. Hey!"

The bartender was looking slightly irritated. Slightly. "You ain't getting more of this, you understand kid? You best be having some water now."

He wanted to say that he was not a fucking kid. But that would be childish. He still wondered if the water was necessary. 

"Yes. It'll help with the killer hangover you're going to have in the morning." She gave him the most sympathetic look she could muster, " I can't let you leave until I know you have a ride though, otherwise I'll get fired. You're either going to have to wait until you're sober, or call a cab son."

She decided he wasn't coherent enough to make a phone call, apparently.  He was going to be sitting for a while.

He moved to one of the tables in the back of the room, where he could watch everyone on the floor. It wasn't that big of a room. He could tell you pretty much everybody's eye colour, it was that small. HE really liked peoples eyes. It was the most honest part of a person there was, except their voice. That was an exaggeration. He could tell you the people next to him. As in a table after the table directly diagonal from him.

The guy with the platinum blond hair and green eyes. 

The girl to platinum hair, with the raven hair and light brown eyes. 

The guy next to raven hair, with his cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth with green hair and almost black eyes. He looked really cool. Maybe he should dye his hair. 

He snorted at the thought. 

The people were whispering and laughing at a woman on the floor. She was a bit farther, but still close enough to tell.

Her hair was down, pulled into a low hanging pony that probably looked great when it was first put together. For now, he was going to kindly assume that a preschooler had done her hair.

If she wasn't tripping over herself and so carelessly drunk, she would have been beautiful. 

But she was. Her blond hair that reminded him of a sandy beach. With her back facing him, he couldn't see what colour her eyes were, but she had on an open back dress, it's crimson red complementing her pale skin in a way that left him breathless. 

Not that he was, to say. It's just that it was astonishing how well it complimented her.

Why was she acting that way then?

She had turned slightly, and he could see that the dress was way father down in front than it needed to be. It appeared she was attempting to flirt with someone. The man was blatantly staring in places that needn't be stared at.

But she seemed to be enjoying it, so what was it to him?

The guy was going to be taking advantage of her though. He couldn't let that happen, could he?

It wasn't his problem though. He shouldn't intervene in a situation where he didn't know what was going on. He should let it go. Look away. Focus on something else. 

He kept watching. 

The man had something. Her body tensed. She said something back. She was trying to get away, that was obvious. 

He watched the mans hand trail down her side. 

She tried to walk away. 

The man forced her next to him. 

He sighed. Was this some kind of test? Was he supposed to go and help her? 

God forbid he do that.