Conflicted Eyes, Confusing Feelings | Complete

t h i r t y - n i n e

On a bench near an open space that resembled a park, Carter was sprawled out, one hand behind his head, and another over his phone that sat on his stomach. As Randall neared, Carter hopped up into a seating position at the sound of churning gravel, and he slowly sat up, looking at Randall with blank, clueless expression. A crimson hue lingered the corners of his eyelids, and his shirt looked as though it had been soaked in a crater of liquor before tye and dying.

They were within a few meters away from one another, in silence. Randall would be lying had he said he didn't feel a little self-conscious about how he looked in his glasses; even in a drunk Carter's eyes.

Clueless as to what to do in the awkward moment, Randall jammed one hand in his flannel-styled pajama bottom, and beckoned to Carter with the other. "Come on."

The red-head didn't listen. Instead, he insolent lay turned away, lifting the Bud Light at his head and downing another quarter of it in one go.

That's when Randall stepped in. "That's enough, Carter." however, when he tried prying the bottle from Carter's hands, his grip tightened, and he panicked.

"Get your fücking hands off me! I ain't got no money to give you. Move along before I rearrange your face." he screamed at the top of his lungs, drunkenly waving his bottle in a threatening fashion at Randall. Breaking the defensive stance to hiss, he stroked his temple and breathed a low curse. Randall took the opportunity to grab the bottle from Carter. He was like a little child as he huffed, crossing his arms and pouting.

For a split second, Randall thought that drunken Carter was a bit cute - albeit still annoying.

"My car's over there." Randall pointed. "Come on."

"I ain't think I can stand by myself."

The first thought that crossed Randall's mind was to carry Carter to his car, but then he considered that Carter wasn't as light as Sage, and most likely, he would protest and thrash about. Then, Randall contemplated bringing Carter on his back, but again, that wouldn't be a good idea, seeing that Carter evidently weighed more than him.

Randall sighed. "Dude, just how much did you drink?"

And why?

Though Randall didn't know Carter very well, one thing he was sure of was That Carter wasn't a big drinker. Or was.

In the end, Randall had to swallow his nerves just so he could fully close the gap between them. He kneeled next to Carter. "Put your arm around my shoulder."

Thankfully, Carter remained silent as he did so, and so, Randall slowly stood, ensuring that Carter could support himself on at least one leg before they proceeded. Once that was done, Randall shyly brought his hand around Carter's slender waist and hesitantly pulled him in, causing Carter to lean his body weight on him.

"You smell nice," Carter whispered as they slowly made their way to the awaiting car. Randall bit his lip and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "Almost like ... cherries?"

"Shower gel." Randall shortly said.

"I..." Carter trailed off for a moment. "I like it. It suits you."

"Thanks."

"Randall?"

Simply by hearing Carter say his name, Randall's heart jerked in his chest. Ignoring it and taking a deep breath, he answered Carter in the calmest way possible. "Yes, Carter?"

Carter was silent for a moment, with the only sound to be heard were their feet stomping against the concrete.

"You mad at me?" he mumbled, looking down.