Feeling Right

Ray knew perfectly where Sand was. He always did, yet he pretended not to see him for most of the night. It hurt to look at Sand because now that things were getting better between him and Mew he wanted anything but to be reminded of Sand and just how good their night together had been. Ray was pretty sure that if he really wanted it, really wanted for this night to repeat itself, again and again, Sand would eventually give in and they would hook up one more time. Because Sand was unable to deny anything to Ray. That's why Ray deliberately chose to stay away from him. He didn't want to be tempted, didn't want to cheat on Mew like Top did even before their relationship could get any serious.

Because Ray wasn't stupid. He knew that Mew was only using him to get over Top, that all of this was just in the spur of the moment and that when Mew would finally wake up from his break up trance, Ray would go back to just being a friend. It was obvious by the way Mew refused to kiss him, or touch him when Top wasn't there to see it and get jealous over it. But Ray had loved Mew for too long to deny him this now. A part of him was truly happy about finally being in a relationship with Mew and another part of him felt like it was only fair to let Mew use him like this after all Ray had put him through.

So, Ray was dancing beside Mew who was completely drunk and high and for some reason he couldn't explain, Ray wasn't as drunk or high. He didn't really feel like it. Sure, he had been drinking a lot but he got kind of immune to beer and vodka, and sure, he had been smoking and taking all kind of drugs Mew wanted to try at the party but he didn't feel like they had any impact on him anymore. And that was kind of scary. Because if even alcohol and drugs couldn't pull him out of his thoughts, out of him, then Ray was just suck with himself and his own morose mind.

Recently, whenever he had felt like he needed to change his mind, he would go to Sand, going wherever the other guy wanted to go, doing whatever he wanted to do. It just felt right, and good. He felt happy. Being by Sand's side was easy, he didn't need to think too much, didn't need to put an act and pretend he wasn't the dumb, horny, selfish guy that he was. Sand accepted him, he hated this side of him but he went with it anyway. And Ray felt the happiest when Sand was by his side, talking happily about music or his life. It felt better than drugs and alcohol.

That's why even now Ray knew where Sand was, in the small living room, on the couch, dressed in a Freddie Mercury costume, eating peanuts and drinking a soft beer, because Sand wasn't stupid and still had to ride his motorbike after. And he was talking to that guy. Ray had seen him around Sand a few times at the bar, he would always come there to listen to Sand, undressing him with his heart-eyes and it made Ray sick. The guy was cute, and obviously just as fan of old English music as Sand was and Ray felt fairly annoyed at just how well they seemed to get along.

It wasn't with him that Sand had had late night conversations about music and culture and festivals. It wasn't with him that Sand had shared his dreams of going to every music festival in the world. It was with Ray. So that guy had no right to talk to Sand with such passion, and to look at him as if they were in their own little world, going as far as to put his hand on his thigh. No, he had no right.

But Ray didn't want to go there and interrupt them, because he wasn't drunk enough to be his shameless self and he knew Sand would get mad at him. Because he had every reason to be mad. Even if he didn't want to admit it, instead settling on ignoring Ray totally, which was way more hurtful. No, Ray wouldn't go there and act all petty and jealous as he truly was because he had Mew and he was happy with Mew, and going there just to ruin Sand's chances to have a one-night stand with a cute guy seemed very mean and stupid.

But maybe, maybe, Ray wasn't so happy with Mew, or at least not as happy as he was with Sand, because Mew just didn't know how to make him feel like drugs and alcohol were not necessary. The Mew that wanted him was not the Mew that Ray liked, he was like his own reflection, partying until he couldn't even form a coherent sentence, and would just drop unconscious to the floor, getting high until he couldn't remember his own name. What Ray saw in Mew was all the things he used to ignore about himself. And he didn't like that.