“Whatever.”
“Oh, what the fuck. Know what?” He straightens, pushes blue hair out of his face and glares at the counter. “I’ll go get wasted on my own. Won’t be the first time, either.” He sweeps a stack of papers to the floor and pushes past me to go.
“Wait.” My gut tells me that leaving him alone right now is a bad, bad idea. So I follow him out, into the cold evening. “Let’s go.”
***
“Gimme another one.” Ocean slams his empty shot glass on the bar and waves at the bartender who rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle of whisky. “That’s my man.”
Ocean’s drunk off his ass, and I haven’t been able to make heads or tails from what he’s been telling me, mumbling under his breath, something about his brother and mistakes and fucking up. He’s like, fuck you, fate, and fuck you, life, and fuck all.
At least I can relate to that. Raising my glass, I down my shot, grunting when the whisky burns a path down my throat to my chest.
Shit, I shouldn’t be the one standing here with Ocean, leaning against the bar, listening and not knowing what to say. What use is someone as fucked-up as me? If I knew what to do, I’d save myself first. What does it tell you when drinking is my solution, too, when the dark swallows me? When my advice would be to find a wall to punch until you’ve broken your goddamn fingers?
Yeah. Thought so.
So I keep my mouth shut and text Seth again. He’s the positive one, the one who always talks me back from the ledge, and I’m not sure how I know Ocean is about to jump, but I do.
You wouldn’t think it, seeing him now as he’s drinking and ranting about fate like any other guy, but this is Ocean. The bright light of the Damage Boyz, the one guy who’s always cracking jokes and sees the good in everything, the one who’s never broken down.
Like I said, things change.
Besides… I know the signs. Seen them in myself before. Takes a man at the end of his rope to know another.
My phone never pings with a message back, and I resign myself to spending the night on some sidewalk tonight, unable to stand upright, let alone find my way back to the apartment—when some undetermined time later, my head buzzing and my vision fuzzy, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Fuck.” I jerk away, sloshing the whisky in my glass, and find Seth grinning at me.
“Cuz,” Seth says in way of greeting and drags a stool, then nods at Ocean. “Shun, my man.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ocean jabs a finger at Seth and misses. He scowls. “Told you.”
“Told me what?”
“My brother calls me that, motherfucker.” He tries to shove Seth away and almost falls off his stool. “Don’t ever call me that, you hear me?
Seth grabs him, pushes him back easily, gets in his face. “Cool down, man.”
I finish my shot, put the glass down on the bar, but miscalculate and it crashes to the floor.
Shit.
“Jus
t how wasted are you, cuz?” Seth gives me a brotherly cuff on the back and I gasp at the impact on my bruises. “Goddammit, man, you okay? Christ, I forgot about your fall.”
“Your fall?” Ocean asks.
Great. Now they’re both staring at me, and I’m too damn drunk to even glare at them properly.
Disgusted, I ignore them instead, turning my back to them.
And find myself faced with Cassie.
***
“I’m here with Seth and Manon,” Cassie says, unbuttoning her coat, and I blink. “What do you think?”