AGAINST THE RULES

Chapter 21

Bright is not a drinker. He doesn't quite understand the allure of intoxication- who wants to be sweaty and red faced, falling all over and vomiting? Especially if - like him - there are always people taking videos of you, waiting for you to do something foolish. Years as an actor and a predisposition for anxiety attacks, has taught him to stay away from the bottle. There were other ways for a man like him to pass the time.

That is why as Bright knocks back a third glass of whiskey on a Tuesday night , he wonders if he has been possessed by some otherworldly creature. What was he doing and why can't he stop? He winces as the bittersweet liquid burns a path from his throat to his stomach. 'Why do people like whiskey,' he thinks, vaguely aware that even his thoughts sound slurred.

He glances down at his phone which was lying on the coffee table, silently taunting him. He feels a thousand emotions he cannot name as he sees photo after photo, gif after gif of Win and Shiela.

Win laughing at something Shiela said. Win and Shiela, arms intertwined as they each take a shot of liquor.
Win and Shiela hamming it up on the dance floor, arms around each other.

"You are a goddamn actor, Bright. You know this is nothing but a rumor. You were at the party. People are just taking this out of context like they usually do," he tells himself. But the dose of logic that would usually calm him, didn't work this time around. Because what Bright could not figure out - did not want to figure out- is why it matters so much to him if #ShieWins was real. Why does he care who Win fake or real dates?

Bright picks up his phone and looks at the screen. It takes him a moment to notice that he was running his thumb across a photo of Win's jaw. And before his brain could form another thought, he pours himself another glass of whiskey.

- - -

Win crosses his left arm across his bare chest in an effort to stretch his very sore shoulder blades. He was exhausted from two hours the gym but if it were up to him he'd still be there - lifting weights, doing WODs. His trainer would not allow him though. He practically pushed Win out the door. "SLEEP!," the instructor bellowed as Win got into his car.

Easier said than done. It was not as if Win's tiredness ever gave way to sleep. And in the past few days, it has gotten worse. He was operating on fumes,
a part of him hoping for the crash because he cannot bear to spend another night thinking about that kiss.

He rolled his eyes at how juvenile he was being. But the eye rolls and the flippant attitude he's been feigning could not push the images out of his head. Nor could it fill the growing pit in his stomach every time he looked at his phone and didn't see Bright's name.

Win is bi. He doesn't think he can escape that any longer. He had read enough, watched enough and most of all he feels it enough. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he had felt it for quite some time now but has always found an excuse to explain the feelings away.

And now what does he feel? Confused? Disappointed? He takes a breath. Heartbroken?

He was about to drop to the floor and fight his feelings with push ups when he hears a commotion outside his window.

He looks out from the second floor to see a hooded figure zigzagging on the lawn. Twice the figure noisily bumped into the glass lanterns hanging above. Once the figure almost fell in their pool.

'That cannot possibly be a robber,' Win thinks. He squints. Wait a minute. Was that who he thinks it is?

The hooded figure begins to loudly shout Win's name. Panicked, Win runs out to the lawn, ready to strangle Bright Vachirawit.