"Let's just go and see the world and just show them, 

what it really means to live life golden."

Hippie Sabotage Devil eyes

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The boy was used to the strident chattering of this place. He was used to the way he could melt into his seat, practically becoming invisible until he was asked for. He was used to the vibrations of the whopping music blocking out his every thought. He was used to all of these things, yet they abhorred him.

The bitter taste of alcohol burned its way through his throat, briefly washing away the bile that had threatened to come up. He put the glass back on the table with a smack, immediately reaching for the next. He swung his head back, threw all of the glass's contents into his mouth and slammed the glass on the marble again. After the third, there was a certain lightness shadowing his every thought.

He sat back in satisfaction, his lip twitching. The flashy lights of the club slowly became a hazy blob of purples, the loud, pounding music infiltrating his ears. Dizzily, he stuck his hand into the air and motioned two lazy fingers at himself, hoping the waiter would understand. Soon enough he was accompanied by a waiter, who patiently tried to take his order.

"Sir? What would you like?" The waiter's voice was barely audible, and it was a miracle he managed to still hear it. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but all that came out of his mouth were dry croaks. So, instead of speaking, he pointed at the empty glasses on his table.

"More?"

He nodded.

"Should I keep 'em coming?"

He nodded, again. The waiter left with a quick 'alright', leaving him by himself. He sucked in his lips, his eyes gliding over the masses of people on the dance floor. They were mostly a blur of bodies, morphing into each other. Flowing into each other.

He blinked, trying to focus his gaze, but it seemed that the alcohol had taken its toll. His heart beat gradually, canny slower than it had done a short while ago. His hands laid calmly in his lap, and there were no panicking voices in his head.

He was finally serene.

The little bag in his jeans pocket parched, but he ignored it. Not yet, he thought. It's not time yet.

The waiter came back with a tray full of tiny shots.

He didn't waste time. As soon as he was left alone, he started throwing the liquids back until his throat scorched and his stomach turned. Then, he fished the little bag out of his pocket and emptied the content on the table, rapidly blinking. His vision wasn't the best, but he could distinctly see rectangular, white shapes.

Don't do it.

In a whim, he put one of the pills on his tongue and washed it away with another shot.

He got flooded by a surge of incredulous thoughts, most of them emphasizing how low he had stooped. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, finding his own opinion unimportant. For the following thirty minutes, he downed drink after drink, his limbs limply falling by his sides.

"There he is. Sweetheart? Sheila is here to see you."

The voice was far, far away, yet he knew the person who'd spoken the words couldn't be that far away. Like he was on automobile, he pushed himself off the velvet cushions of the couch and dragged his feet towards the two vague personas.

"Oh honey, gotten all drugged up already?"

Luckily for him, the pill had worked and there was not a bone in his body that could seem to care. In fact, there was not a bone in his body that felt his own.

"Look at that beautiful face. I love it when his eyes get so glazy, isn't he just a dream?"

There were low murmurs. He wasn't listening.

"What did you take, baby?" She asked.

He shrugged. Or at least, he tried to shrug. Leisurely, he pulled the bag out of his pocket again, holding it up for her to see. She hummed in response, another set of hushes going back and forth between the two women.

"Are you sure Xanax was a good idea? I could've given you something else."

He just simply didn't care. All he wanted was to get this over with.

"You know what? Go with Sheila, and we'll see what happens. Next time, talk to me first, okay?"

He didn't respond.

"Okay?" She harshly repeated, her fingers enclosing his chin. He licked his dry lips, nodding, trying to find her eyes, but failing miserably. He couldn't see anything.

"That's my boy. My baby." She cooed.

He just wanted to get this over with.