The Outlier

THREE

(a/n found the pic on pinterest, not mine)

TW// themes of alcohol, drugs, panic attacks and blood

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It seemed like everyone in London had been invited to this party— like the original guest-list invited everyone they knew and those who had been invited by the original guests had invited everyone they knew and so on. I heard basic rap music blaring out of the house, like the kind of music to make your eardrums hurt if you were to listen to it for too long at a volume too loud. 

"If anything goes wrong, we can go straight home," said Ash comfortingly. 

I swallowed all my uncertainty along with the lump in my throat. Ash'll be with me, I have no reason to be worried, I continuously assured myself. Ash squeezed my hand and pulled me towards the party. I took an imaginary shot for confidence and stepped through. 

I noticed instantly that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone here knew each other and was surrounded by a large group of friends, talking, laughing, drinking. And I knew no one besides Ash, Theo and very possibly Kate. I looked back at where Ash was standing five seconds ago before they let go of my hand. 

Gone. 

I walked around aimlessly for what felt like hours before eventually reaching the makeshift drinks counter that was made up of a bright blue cooler. I found myself a can of Light Coke and poured out the fizzy drink into a cup I had found. A bottle of silver tequila began looking oddly seductive and I added a bit of it into my drink. I took a long sip of the moderately sweet drink, feeling somewhat malcontent with how lukewarm it was.

I slowly drank my drink and I thought of all the words a food critic would use to describe a coke; it was a pointless attempt at giving myself something to do, but an attempt nonetheless. I heard a loud brassy voice calling for someone.

"Hey!" I heard the voice come closer and I could notice the features of familiarity. 

I finally looked up and saw a boy who looked like he was in his late teens standing not even six feet away from me. My heart began to pound out of my chest. 

"Hey, Kai." 

"Hi, Samuel." 

Kill me now.

"So how've you been?" Samuel asked. 

"I'm fine, thanks for asking. You?" 

"I'm alright," he nodded.

"How's college in the midlands?" I asked, hoping to keep him talking. 

"I really like it there," he said. I saw a golden, glimmering opportunity to keep him talking. I didn't want any attention on myself. 

"What's living in Coventry like?" 

"It's such a different city to London and so much better," Samuel began. "It's so not polluted and it's so fresher..." By the time Samuel began going on a passionate spiel on the beauty of the midlands, I tuned him out. 

Despite Sam being relatively affluent, he hardly utilised his secondary school education enough to learn any vocabulary that made his description of the midlands helpful in understanding the measure of his reverence.  

"Say, Kai, do you go to school with Mackey?" 

It was at that moment that I had decided that Samuel, no doubt, was the most foolish person I have ever met. In all of the minor incidents during our eight-month-long relationship that made his vacuity peek through, I had decided that this was the one that branded him as a moron.