When Worlds Combine - A WWC Sequel

46; Dancing, sandwiches, and cold grass

Zayn

"So then the lights come on, and fucking good old Brewster comes in with his crowbar. And Jax and I are shitting ourselves, right. Because we're as high as two motherfucking kites and Brewster literally looks like he should've died twenty years ago. And we just run for the hills, fucking gap the scene, right. But Brewster, the old brute, he damn well follows us doesn't he?"

I sit at the booth with Allie by my side and Rico and his chick across from us. Rico's telling some classic tale of his but I'm only half listening. It's hard when there's so many distractions. Plus, the coke hasn't worn off yet and I can't stop fidgeting. I've got like damn ADHD or something. We've managed to pull ourselves away from the madness of the club, protecting ourselves in a bubble of peace where the music and lights are dim. But I'm too faded myself to be in a faded place. I need the madness.

"And I shit you not, we come around the corner and Brewster's replaced his crowbar for a damn shotgun. A fucking shotgun."

I roll my head back as I lean against the wall, opening and closing my eyes in drawn out blinks. The room spins around me, and my skin tingles. I feel Allie's hand on my thigh, slowly moving up towards my crotch. I don't move it, because I don't have the energy too. Plus, I don't actually mind it. Allie's hands are her best asset.

"Do you wanna dance?" She leans in and whispers in my ear, the vibrations of her words giving me more feelings than the damn coke did. Her grip on my thigh tightens.

I jerk up a little at the sudden touch and nod quickly before sliding out of the booth. I tell Rico where we're headed but he doesn't even listen, he's too wrapped up in his story to realise that no one actually cares, and that we all stopped listening about twenty minutes ago.

"And I said to Jax, 'Jax, mate, this is it.' I really thought it was my final moment on the earth, you know? I was looking death right in the eye and it came in the form of the barrel of a shotgun. But you know what happened? A fucking miracle, that's what."

The girl beside him just groans, picking at her nails in a bored manner.

Allie leads me back into the madness, the suffocation of the crowd. The bass pumps my veins and makes my bones jump and the minute we find a clearing, Allie starts dancing. Her body moves magically, like wisps of smoke in the air. She moves everything, all at once. If her arm moves, her hip moves. If her leg moves, her head moves. She's like some sort of artwork I can't help to admire.

I let myself feel the music, feel the atmosphere. I start jumping around, letting myself completely go. And then my hands are on Allie's waist and she's grinding against me, and I'm kissing her again. There's no feeling in what I'm doing at all, but it helps to make me stop feeling so empty. I need to stop feeling so empty.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in closer. I hook my fingers through her belt loops and spread my hands out on her ass and hips, massaging the area. We move in sync, our bodies pressed together like waves on the shore. Our lips stay permanently attached as if it would hurt to rip them apart, and I'm desperately trying to fill the void in my heart but I'm only up by ten percent. Like a fundraising chart in a town that gets absolutely no money, I'm forever empty.

But right now, I can't do anything else. Because I'm high and I'm wasted and I'm all kinds of things that make me want to do a lot of bad things. Bad things to myself. And I think that I will, because maybe then I won't feel so empty.

----

I stumble through the front door at approximately three in the morning, not even trying to hide my intoxication. I knock over several furnishings in the process of ambling down the hall and I groan as I feel my body start to get worse. I stagger through the silently sleeping house and make it into the kitchen and start flicking on the lights and opening up the cupboards because I'm motherfucking hungry.