Vicious people doing despicable things

1 Get on the f-ing bus!

Nam

The light here is totally homophobic. Seriously. There's no way I look this awful. Look at these bags under my eyes. My Louis Vuitton bag is smaller than those puffy motherfuckers.

I hold my hand under cold tap water, then gently press my icy fingertips to the skin under my eyes. It doesn't help. Now my skin is puffy and red. Nice.

I'm a mess.

I need a drink.

Or maybe I've had enough. I don't know. I don't want to be here. Fort is so in love and Pond so obviously adores Gen, and all this tooth-rotting sweetness makes me feel sick. It makes me feel like I don't belong here. In this world full of happy, normal people.

I can hear the fucking violin even here, in the toilet.

I'm not hiding. I just need a moment away from all the things that will never have my name on them. The things I want so much it hurts.

I run my hands through my hair, messing it up. I look just the way I feel inside – ugly and messed-up.

I want to throw up.

I want to get fucked so hard I forget my name.

I caught a waiter checking me out during Father and Daughter dance. He was cute enough, I think. There's a chance he would.

Mark won't reply me anyway, I should stop obsessing over him. He hates my guts. He'll never look at me with anything but repulsion in his eyes. And that's okay. We are just too different, I guess. That's fine. I alienate loads of people by not being very demure and mindful. Whatever. Fuck them. Their loss, not mine. My reflection sneers bitterly at me. I want to punch it and see it crack.

There's a lump in my throat and stiffness in my limbs. I don't know what to do with it. I'm stuck at this dead end, lost and desperate. I don't know where should I go from here. I don't even know where I am.

Fuck, I'm drunk.

I splash cold water on my face. It never helps. It makes me puffy, red, and wet. Brilliant.

My phone pings on the counter next to the sink. I glance down at it and my heart skips a beat.

A new message.

From Mark.

Im outside where r u?

And I can finally breathe. Fuck, it feels good. Mark maybe hates my guts but, until he's not pushing me away, I'm fine with it.

I close my eyes for a moment, take a deep breath, and try to exhale this stale feeling of dread and desperation. I can do it. I look up at my reflection and make it smile. Relaxed and sexy as hell. My hair's not a mess, it's sexy bed hair. This isn't tiredness under my eyes, this is my cute chubby cheeks. I'm fine. I'm good enough. I can do it.

Happy Nam mode on.

Mark

8.30 pm.

I can make it. I've got an hour left. It's going to be okay.

Or a total disaster.

I breathe in, slowly, then count to five and let the air out.

I've only agreed to this because canceling another gig would consequently lead to losing the right to perform at the club most nights. Which means losing money and well... I like performing at the Soi99 with Ton. Performing nights are the only highlights of my otherwise miserable existence. Without the Kites and Luc, I've got nothing.