I've been staring into this glass of brown liquor for as long as ten minutes, though it feels like hours, and seconds all at once. I don't know what I'm doing here. Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I reopen them and lift the glass to my lips, draining both fingers of bourbon before nodding at the bartender for another.
I finally, after so many years, opened my life to someone. I opened my mind and heart to the prospect of being with someone new. And now the same thing happened again. He even went to the same fucking city.
Looking down at my phone, I pull up my messages app and let my fingers hover above the screen, deciding if I should send Noah a response to his last message.
It says: Please don't call me or text me again. I'm not coming back.
I'm practically fuming to myself after rereading it as the bartender delivers me a third bourbon and I whip it back, shoving the empty glass in his direction. I just know he's giving me a look, but I refuse to acknowledge it as he pours me another. I'm teetering between gutted devastation and blinding rage. That's why I came here. Because the moment I forced my eyes away from this text I knew the only possible way for me to feel better would be to go out. This situation required hard liquor.
I close my eyes and try to focus on slowing my breathing, but I can't manage it. The only thing I see behind my closed eyelids are the images of Noah and me, our bodies wound together as if we'd been one. But we weren't one, we were nothing. I need to remember that.
As the liquor begins to kick in, I pull in a deep breath. Nothing–I quietly remind myself as I fall into the abyss of darkness that promised me peace for as long as I can remember. When I open my eyes the next time, I can see that I'm still sitting in a bar full of people. But I'm back where I belonged. Alone.
"Listen buddy, I'm not serving you anymore," the voice of a bartender snaps me out of my reverie.
"Fuck off," I say as I pull out the wad of cash from my pocket and throw it at him. "Keep the change."
There is a possibility he knows someone who knows someone who knows me, this is Wake Forest after all. I don't dwell on the fact that I may end up being a town gossip for the whole five minutes. I'll just go look for another bar, maybe the one out of town, where there are men looking for other men for a little casual fun.
But as soon as the thought enters my drunken brain my stomach lurches and my chest twists painfully. As I reach for my phone I dial his number again. I don't want anyone else, I just want to hear his voice.
I know it'll go unanswered, but maybe I am the die-hard romantic after all and I refuse to give up on him. I'm still here, thinking of him every second of every day, and despite his constant silence and rejection, I need him to know that that won't ever change.
My negative thoughts are unleashed after another voicemail and that sense is back, that stubborn itch inside of me, that maybe something is wrong. I'm unsettled, and I will be until I see him. I just want to know he's safe. I hate that I have no idea where he is... or what's happening to him.
At least I have some brain cells left to not drive my truck and the next number I dial is a taxi. But instead of going home I tell him Noah's address. Well, Paul Summerville's.
Looming pine trees rush past on either side of me, stretching and disappearing into the shadows, as I listen to some popular song on the radio my cab driver is playing. And it makes me anxious, all I feel is a hollow sort of inevitability. With every second, it grows more suffocating. More unbearable.
I have no idea how I got here but I'm knocking on that familiar door. Paul Summerville opens with a frown on his face which isn't a surprise considering the time of night but as soon as he sees me the anger turns into confusion.
"Dylan... Is everything alright?"
"I think... I think something is wrong. Noah... he's been missing."
"What do you mean? He called us just today. He sounded fine." For a second his eyes turn alarmed. "Did you find something out now?"
"What?"
"You're worrying me, Dylan. Is Noah ok? Let me call him..."
"Wait," I interrupt wearily, and Paul's mouth snaps shut. "You talk to him?"
"Yeah, of course. He calls to check in with us. All the time."
What? His words rattle meaninglessly around my brain like stones in a tin can. My head feels like it is full of white static.
"I see. And how is he?"
He looks at me with some sort of wariness. "Well, good. Obviously those few weeks with Chloe were tough but he found a really good fancy job in Hollywood, said he couldn't refuse. He sends a few pictures now and then, with some celebrities even. He seems like he's doing well. I was worried about him for a minute, but it seems like all that glitz and glamor suits him, he seems like he's doing well."
I can't believe what I'm hearing while Paul's discomfort grows as each awkward moment ticks by. "Dylan... Didn't he contact you? He said you guys talk when I asked?"
I straighten and swallow down all my emotions. I force them away, all the thoughts and memories, any feeling threatening to burst from my face. I push it all aside. "Thank you for your time, Paul. I apologize for disturbing you this late."
I push away from that house into the freezing night. Something just beneath my chest tightens, like a hunger pang, or a warning that I am about to vomit, I don't even know. All I want is to be out in the fresh, cold air and away from anything and anyone who has some connections to Noah Summerville.
________
YOU ARE READING
Midnight sun
Romance[ boyxboy ] Noah Summerville is broken when his long forgotten uncle comes to his rescue and takes him to a small town of Alaska in a search of a new life. Then he sees Dylan McKenna with his man bun, thick thighs and intense stare. There is somethi...
