Before the night was even midway, Allan was holding down the taste of bile rising up his throat as his stomach lurched worse every time he had to swallow the vomit.

Ah how classy of him, clutching at his sides with tears hiding themselves behind his eyes as throw up threatened to splatter by his feet.

He heard the scrape of the stool next to him screech against the floor, before he felt a small hand place itself on his back, rubbing small circles into it. It made him want to gag when he heard the voice behind it, the sympathetic tone only giving him a pounding migraine, "Hey hon, you doin' alright?"

I spared a glance at the woman, curly brown hair going down in waterfalls down her petite shoulders, curling just past her midsection. Her eyes were a soft hazel with little specks of copper, light shining off of her orbs from the flashing mess overhead.

Her skin tight jeans were sticking to her thighs, holes obviously sliced into them purposely as they frayed out. Her shirt was draped loosely over her shoulders, slung around her top in all of its black and white striped glory.

Her collar bones popped out like a sore thumb, her black bra straps that hugged her tightly visible. Makeup was plastered onto her face, eyeliner flicked into a cat's eye and lipstick sharp as ever.

His voice got stuck behind his teeth as his eyes fluttered wide open, his heart freezing in his chest. The world stopped spinning and for the hundreth time that week, he accused himself of loving. "Y-yeah- I'm fine.."

He paused himself for a moment to scan her up and down briefly before a smile crept onto his face softly, "My names Allan," He forgot all about his earlier sickness and stuck his hand out, soon wrapping his fingers around her hand as he gave it a firm shake, "Allan Foster."

"Felicia Darnwell, darlin'!" She gave his arm a small pat, her smile was easy on the eyes, perfect teeth glistening white. "Did you come here to drink your problems away," She started, dancing her fingers down his forearm before lacing their fingers together, "Or to find a girl?" She winked playfully, retracting herself from him.

That's when it hit him like a brick and he shifted sway from her, the hearts that floated around his head a minute ago now shot down with black arrows, "I'm here because I want to be here." He muttered, shoving his glass at the bartender for the sixth time and returned to ignoring all human contact.

What he said floated in his head, his intoxicated mind laughing at how wrong he was. Hell no I don't want to be here! He shouted to himself, clutching his beverage tighter.

Soon the tramp scooted away from him, losing her interest as quick as it came; The feeling was mutual.

He sucked in a deep breath of the muggy oxygen around him, his lungs taking in as much air as his chest would allow before exhaling with clenched eyes.

His toes curled up in his shoes, the ridges in his spine sticking out as his back tensed.

God he hated this.