Alone [manxman]

six:: when you meet a boy.

"No."  And maybe he'd declined so much that it almost felt pointless to ask, that was later a problem, I didn't ask enough. My head was throbbing and I didn't care enough to ask anymore.

: : :

I'd gotten used to answering to no one, hell, I didn't even answer to myself. I didn't have anyone here to disappoint anymore so who the fuck did Wren think he was? He'd known me for what, two months? And even throughout those two months, I was so distant that he definitely didn't know anything about me besides what size condom I wore or where my dorm was. Wren didn't know me well enough- and I didn't know him well enough to say any of that?

I didn't know him well enough to defend him from some dick? Who the fuck did he think he was?

What the fuck was I even mad about?

I didn't know but when he'd turned around and went back to dancing with some friends he didn't arrive with, I found myself at the bar. I'd been an observer for the night and the only time I'd tried to have fun, I ended up getting told off by a boy half my size, the hope for the night was slowly dwindling down and I wasn't sure how Wren just went back to dancing.

But if he didn't care, neither did I, I had enough experience of fucking up my own life trying to care for someone else and I wasn't going to waste a good buzz. I wasn't one to waste a good view and the bartender was a sight, he was pretty, I wouldn't have called him anything else. He was small with a dark complexion and a short cut and he was wearing close to nothing. I tried my best not to pay much mind as I wasn't looking for conversation but the drink in my hand was halfway gone and I would need another soon.

Deciphering whether or not I wanted him in my bed seemed objectifying and the song playing earlier had ran through my head. I tried not to think of Paul.

I tried not to think at all.

"So, do you always have that look in your eye or has someone pissed you off?" That was the sound of an inquiring voice, the stool beside me had pulled out. The guy that followed had sat down at the bar as well and the bartender who'd previously been staring holes into my head found a new subject to observe. I was sipping a rum and coke that was definitely too much coke, a voice lingered on the side of me for a second.

I'd ignored every guy that had approached me by then, them not staying long as they were mostly thiner twinks that didn't have the courage to sit too long... either that or I wasn't hot enough to stomach the confrontational responses. I wasn't even interested in trying to find a fuck for the night, I was realizing as I'd been sitting there for twenty minutes now and I hadn't made a pass at the bartender who was definitely my type... maybe it was the fact that I would've rather drank my weight that night.

I was lost in my own head, not paying much mind to anything other than the warmth of my chest and how hot it was getting in there. When I hadn't spoken, the man beside me raised his hands and I still hadn't seen much of him, I wondered how much he'd try. "Hey, I don't mind it, it's kinda hot." His long legs weren't grazing mine like the last few, he wasn't touching me at all. He'd shrugged when I didn't respond and put a glass to his lips.

The bar had been amping up as more people rolled in, I wondered how early we were exactly and how late the night would really start. This wasn't my scene, I was starting to realize, maybe it had a lot to do with me in general but I found myself resonating more with kickbacks or frat houses where I could get so wasted and still be able to walk back to campus. Or, at least, that was what I told myself but it had been a few weeks since seeing Paul and I hadn't done much to leave my room let alone the dorm... not when I wasn't fucking Wren.

And then I was thinking about Paul again, the night replayed in my head and the I love you stuck like it were the first time again. I was convincing myself it were in my head because the way he said my name... he didn't love me anymore, the way he looked at me wasn't the same.