My Gay Cabin Fever

The Bar

I spent the next week focusing on myself as much as I could, keeping my head free of worry. Of course, I would bump into everyone every now and then, but I would try and spend as much time out of the house as I could each day, only coming back for food and rest. To be honest, I had already come to terms with the whole recording situation, in which Seb recorded me for Chris and Anthony, but I was still laying low, to see who would reach out first. In my newfound free time however, I had started a series of new online courses, taking part in activities like art, wrestling, yoga and even karaoke. After a each day, I would often find myself in the nearby bar, about a mile from the cabin. Here, I would often cleanse my mind with a pint of beer. I didn't really like the taste, but the idea of having a drink at the pub, however small, was enough.

The night was young and, once again, I found myself sat in front of a bartender, a barely touched glass gripped in my hand. The table was sticky: an alcoholic residue plaguing the surface and making my jacket stick. Nonetheless, it did make the pub pretty. The layer of alcohol refracted the sliver of moonlight that penetrated the glass of the window, scattering it across the room.

I checked my phone. It was almost 10, and in a few minutes the pub would be converted into a club for the night-time guests. I hadn't visited it yet, but I had been wanting to try it out as soon as possible.

"Almost time everyone" the bartender shouted with a deep voice. "Can everyone stand outside for a minute?"

I got up, leaving behind my untouched drink, and made my way outside. The crunch of the gravel was audible beneath my feet. It was cold, the chill blew through my shirt and jacket and made my hairs stand up on my chest making me impatient to get into the club. For the few minutes I was outside, the crowd behind me increased consistently. I never knew this was a big social event. An audible flick signalled the switch, which preceded the turning on of the lights.

The whole front of the pub lit up. A blinding array of pink and blue transformed the previously bland pub into a spectacle. In flashing neon letters, read 'GAY FEVER'.

I waited a moment before rereading the sign. This was a gay club? Since when? I looked at the crowd behind me. It was packed with young men, all around my age, eager to make their way inside.

Inside, we all began to fill out the club. The interior was almost unrecognisable now: across it's walls, hung signs of naked statues, with god-like muscles; decorating the walls were luminous signs, which shone onto the faces of their guests; in the air, the loud sound of pop music had replaced the previously sombre sounds of news. Taken aback by this metamorphosis, I sat down at my previous space to try and retain a sense of familiarity. My drink was gone, but I wasn't about to complain. The bitter taste was not something I desired right now.

Suddenly, a drink was pushed forward from the other side of the bar. "This is for you," the bartender said handing me a glass of something purple and blue. I raised an eyebrow, not able to hear him over the music. He had to repeat himself, gesturing the drink. The colours twisted and turned in the glass, mixing together softly. "They thought you'd appreciate it." He continued, pointing to my right. It was a mysterious drink, but the buyer was even more mysterious. I looked to my right and searched for the figure before finally seeing him.

On my right, a few seats over, sat Tom, a toothpick in his mouth and a cocky smile on his face.