Chapter Two.

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"Come here come here come here
You know you really oughta"


It's been two hours. Two hours, twelve minutes and thirty five seconds, but it's not like I'm counting.

I'm definitely counting.

I've spent most of the night so far tucked away on a couch, hanging out with the one guy that is seeming to make this night vaguely tolerable.

Vodka really is a great guy, I should start spending more time with him again.

The house is filled with party lights, incense burning and dim lanterns hung from the ceiling, the atmosphere is actually really aesthetically pleasing - just a shame that there's people here.

Frankie has tried prying me off the couch, urging me to come socialise and meet new people, but I'm sorry unless you've got four legs and fur I'm really not interested.

I was happy to see how much Alex loved his present though, I commissioned a portrait of he and Frankie from one of their favourite artists and I'd saved for months to get that done for him.

The part where he got all misty eyed and pulled me into a hug was where my limit was though, affection and emotions just aren't my thing any more, I can really only show them around Gizmo but sometimes I slip up around Frankie.

I'm still am really glad I was able to do something nice for Alex's birthday though, and the look on his face when he saw me walk through the door, cheering over the fact Frankie managed to drag me here.

I was technically kidnapped and forced against my will, but at least it made him happy so I guess it's not all bad.

The music in the house is vibrating and thumping in the air, and at least the music taste Frankie and Alex have makes the night better.

Music is probably the only other thing that I can enjoy these days, that let's me feel anything at all, aside from the vacant hollowness that only gets engulfed with skin crawling pain when I can't manage to push it down any more.

They seem to be stuck in a time warp with music like I am, I'm like Marty Mcfly stuck in a Delorean back in time and I really think I was just born in the wrong era.

I watch the crowd of people in the house getting lost in their drinking and enjoying social interactions with each other, dancing, laughing and enjoying their life.

What a foreign concept.

My eyes catch another set of eyes across the room, a man standing with his friends and he smiles and waves at me, and my stomach drops.

Oh please don't come over.

This is my cue to leave.

I give a smile polite smile back and push off the couch, making a beeline for the staircase to find a bathroom, empty room, anything.

I just need to hide for a few minutes and work out an excuse I can give Frankie to go home, I made an appearance, I came, I saw and I have been breaking my neck to get back home the entire time.

I shuffle past the people on the staircase, that are apparently trying to make a baby at a house party, keeping my eyes on the ground and stepping over the random red cups littered there - Alex is going to be so pissed, he hates mess.

But I already know, Frankie organised cleaners to come first thing in the morning as part of his birthday present.

They're so grossly perfect for each other.

Perspective. |H.S| Harry StylesWhere stories live. Discover now