Faith is a Secret Not a Promise

Chapter 6 - A Clash with the Unfortunate

Oliver

The first time I got drunk to the verge of near-death-by-embarrassment was when I was fourteen. It was a birthday party for some rich kid, who was apparantly a family friend. The thing about rich kids is that they don't actually have many close friends, but the invitation list is always two miles long to make it seem as though they had an abundance of close friends. His house was a maze, even when sober. And out of his ten bathrooms I managed to throw up in the cloak room. Oops...

The last time I got drunk was approximately thirteen hours ago. Although I currently feel like I've been dead for four years. I mean what idiot comes up with the idea to do Jagerbombs at 10pm!

"Seriously, Oliver! Why the fuck did you make us do shots at 10pm!", Louis jabs at me.

Oh yeah...I'm that idiot.

"Sorry guys", I defend myself sincerely though I can't completely secrete the chuckle in my voice. "I guess I thought that being insanely pissed might've made the night go quicker and well... I would look like a raging alcoholic if I was the only one on that level of drunkeness, so of course I had to drag you guys down with me!"

With that outburst, I'm left with stares drilling four holes into my forehead. Like they wouldn't have done the same to me if they were in my position!

"Please guys, I really am sorry. But come on, you have to admit last night was fun." Their expressions soften at this, reminded of the...adventurous time we had. "Remember when we all went back to Harvey's flat and Katie got up on the table and took off her top!"

Connor interjects my laughter, "Oliver. That was you."

The idiot strikes again.

"Don't tell me people didn't enjoy it." I mummer, concealed by a sip of my drink, however Louis seemed to have heard this since he scoffs humorously at my antics and excuses himself to go to the toilet. Upon his departure, Connor takes his seat to be one closer to me, alowing him to ask his following question. "So how come you were so desperate for last night to go quickly that you thought you had to perform a strip-tease for everyone?". His light-hearted tone and somber excuse for a joke are able to sugarcoat his question enough that it encourages me to answer, though I still feel reluctant to share, even with one of my closest friends.

"I don't know, I just... wasn't completely up for it last night I think."

"Really? Olly, if you weren't up for it then you wouldn't have come at all. So come on, why'd you drag yourself to a night out and drink half the stock?" He looks at me gingerly, wondering himself if he'll get another half-arsed answer or any answer at all.

I respond with the same level of caution, shifting on my stool and irritably shoving my hair back. I take a pause. "I think I just didn't want to go to sleep last night thinking of..." It comes out more slowly. "...what had happened earlier. You know with that Michael guy."

"Michael Bardo?"

"Yeah. I know it sounds ridiculous 'cause I hardly know him,  but I swear he was horrible!" I can feel my heart rate beginning to hammer at the feel of his mention roll off my tongue.

"Wow. I mean you told us before, but was he really that bad?!" Connor's eyebrows furrow together and he speaks incredulously, though not doubtfully.

"He really was! He made me feel so small and unimportant you know. And he was just flat out rude, but for no fucking reason! Like really, I hadn't done anything to him but made some fucking eye-contact, which everyone did in that auditorium!" I fail to mention my deluded belief that our eyes had somehow knitted together for what felt like the whole hour of his speech. "I truly think that if I saw him again I'd do the exact same to him. He only deserves it right? Or, am I being insanely petty by saying this?"

Connor has no chance to answer this as Louis comes storming through the maze of stools and tables until he reaches back to us. Immediately, he erupts into a fit of indecipherable exclaimations, of which Connor and I attempt to calm him down to a point where he finally speaks English.

"I saw him!" He's now out of breath.

"Who?" Connor and I are both laughing at his cartoon-ish personality, while equally intrigued by the cause of his sudden energetic outburst.

"That American prick!" His voice is hiss, failing to achieve the goal of keeping quiet.

A bizarre sensation engulfs my body into a wave of vigilance. There's a crawling solidness in my stomach that makes me feel as though I've suddenly fallen fifty feet but managed to stay still. Just barely.

They both look towards me, but I fail to represent a reaction.

Louis continues, more tentatively this time. "I walked past him on the way to the toilet."

I remain under a spell of silence until I fight with the realisation that I shouldn't feel affected this. "So? Who cares? I personally couldn't give a shit." My chuckle comes out dry and I busy myself with another sip of my drink.

Connor pipes up, "Then I guess your plan of giving him a taste of his own medicine is already out the window." I glance at him directly.

"What's this about a plan?" There's a certain glimmer in Louis' eyes as he asks this. There's always been a mischievous nature to him that uncovers itself at the most surprisingly devilish times for such a convincingly coy person.

Connor takes it upon himself to enrich Louis with the knowledge on how I want to take my own back on said 'American prick'. At which Louis becomes enlightened with the possibilty of hurtling misery down on him. 

I realise that I should probably interject before Louis storms over to Michael with whatever sinister plan he's concocted in the past three seconds. "Wait guys, I didn't mean that I wanted to play out some elaborate revenge on him. I only meant that if I ever spoke to that guy again, which I probably won't anyways, but if I did I would simply...give him the cold shoulder or something."

Louis and Connor continue to look at me, unspeaking. Then they look to each other. Then they look back to me.

Connor's the first to speak. "Well that's a bit fucking boring isn't it?"

The three of us ramble all at once with ideas and denfences and compromisations. Naturally we blend into each other. We are like a ball of energy that bounces off the walls of everything we say or do, all the while laughing together. At how Louis' voice becomes high-pitched when he talks defensively. How Connor immitates us with precision, causing perfect irritation. How I can never seem to keep a straight face through all of this.

Though it's all interupted. Altogether, all at once, the three of us look up at the stranger passing by our table.

The stranger, who looks back.

The stranger, who turns his entire body to look at me, with his gaze like a bullet.

The stranger, who tightens his eyes slightly in confusion.

Michael, who seals his lips and breathes out one short, rapid breath. Almost like the tiniest laugh.