What time is it?
Felix's eyes snapped open to blurry strobe lights and movement, a kaledeiscope of gyrating, silhouettes gathered around him. The music was deafening, rattling his insides, throwing him off kilter. His stomach growled, angry, empty and wanting to vomit. Before he knew it, a pair of hands held his shoulders and pulled him upright, managing to make him dizzier. Felix clutched the sofa for support and pulled himself up, finally giving in and vomiting at the back of the it. Through the music, he heard familiar laughter. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and frowned. Gross.
Felix melted into the sofa and clutched his aching stomach. Before he knew it, he was pulled into Dorian's lap, arms around his middle. He felt his face flushed. They argued for a bit, par for the course for them, he supposed, but he could barely remember anything he said as soon as the words left his mouth — he did, however, remember Dorian being snippy about him on Jaegerbombs, and Felix remembered being very pissed off about it. In the end, Felix pushed himself off Dorian's lap and left the club.
The fresh air was better. Well. He still felt like shit, but it was a huge improvement. The place was — Oh! That was why it was so blurry. He lost his glasses. He scrubbed his face. Inebriated, high and blind. Perfect. Felix walked at the end of the sidewalk, trying to get bars for his phone so he could call. Hm. He was pissed off at Dorian, even if it was over a pretty trivial thing, and he didn't have any other friends. Toby? ...Ha. Not in this state.
Sighing, he decided he was going to call his friends. His hand shook and his phone fell — shit! — right into a drain.
Felix slapped his face and groaned.
That's just perfect, then! Just peachy!
Huffing, he started walking to the mess of neon lights, hoping he'll be lucky enough to find a bus station. He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. At least I have this.
Felix's eyes snapped open to blurry strobe lights and movement, a kaledeiscope of gyrating, silhouettes gathered around him. The music was deafening, rattling his insides, throwing him off kilter. His stomach growled, angry, empty and wanting to vomit. Before he knew it, a pair of hands held his shoulders and pulled him upright, managing to make him dizzier. Felix clutched the sofa for support and pulled himself up, finally giving in and vomiting at the back of the it. Through the music, he heard familiar laughter. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and frowned. Gross.
Felix melted into the sofa and clutched his aching stomach. Before he knew it, he was pulled into Dorian's lap, arms around his middle. He felt his face flushed. They argued for a bit, par for the course for them, he supposed, but he could barely remember anything he said as soon as the words left his mouth — he did, however, remember Dorian being snippy about him on Jaegerbombs, and Felix remembered being very pissed off about it. In the end, Felix pushed himself off Dorian's lap and left the club.
The fresh air was better. Well. He still felt like shit, but it was a huge improvement. The place was — Oh! That was why it was so blurry. He lost his glasses. He scrubbed his face. Inebriated, high and blind. Perfect. Felix walked at the end of the sidewalk, trying to get bars for his phone so he could call. Hm. He was pissed off at Dorian, even if it was over a pretty trivial thing, and he didn't have any other friends. Toby? ...Ha. Not in this state.
Sighing, he decided he was going to call his friends. His hand shook and his phone fell — shit! — right into a drain.
Felix slapped his face and groaned.
That's just perfect, then! Just peachy!
Huffing, he started walking to the mess of neon lights, hoping he'll be lucky enough to find a bus station. He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. At least I have this.
