The Calm and the Storm [#NaNoWriMo15]

2. Between Two Stools

His night started in an overcrowded car. The temperature was too hot to be bearable; someone had cranked the heater on when it was already hot outside and the stench of beer and body odour was thick in his nose. They seemed to be heading to a pub, the way each person in the car was beginning to pull out cash to pass it on down the car. When the small wad of pink and blue reached him, Atticus let out an annoyed sigh and pulled 20 dollars from the back pocket of his jeans and slapped it onto the pile, passing it forward. He was sitting beside the skinny pierced guy whose name, he discovered, was actually Henry Mallis, and Henry Mallis was wearing a singlet that showed how little he really was; not even an XS could cling to his figure. Perhaps he was a smoker and not an eater? Atticus really didn't care.

"So, are we going to drink our stupidity out of a glass tonight?" Atticus called to whoever was listening, and the muscled guy on the other side of Mallis, who called himself Derek Roman, cracked a wide wolf grin.

"What, you think we were gonna play Bingo?" he barked. "We're gonna get trashed!"

At that, everyone but Atticus screamed in agreeance to the relation of getting drunk and Atticus sighed. It'd been a long day already, and it was going to be an even longer night. He had only agreed to this to prove his instincts right, but he feared that it wouldn't be for the best, and that was certain.

They pulled up outside a pub and everyone clambered out; Atticus was one of the last, being beside the door with the faulty handle. He had to kick at it to loosen the lock and managed to shut his door by the time everyone else was already inside. He let out a frustrated growl and shoved his hands into his pockets, stalking up to the entrance to what looked like an extremely cheap pub. He walked in inconspicuously; no one turned their heads to him as he stepped inside. He immediately saw Nathaniel and his mates taking shots at the bar and started to frown. Maybe his suspicions about the night ending on a bad note were wrong. Maybe they really did just want to get drunk and shout at each other.

Throughout the course of the night, the men went through two bottles of vodka between them and countless rounds of shots. Atticus was surprised no one had passed out yet, but he was betting that it would happen soon enough.

He knew he should've left. Nothing good ever came of a drunk Nathaniel, and neither did hanging out with him and his friends. They all despised him to the ends of the Earth, and yet they were putting up with his presence even if he were keeping his distance.

Despite his importance, Atticus slowly moved over to Nathaniel after he decided he needed to get home; it was late and he had a room to get back to.

"Nate, I'm gonna head home," he called over the noise, and his completely trashed brother turned around, eyes wide.

"Naw, don't go yet!" he slurred, a ridiculous grin plastered on his clammy face. "You're gonna miss dessert!"

"This is a pub, not a restaurant," Atticus reminded him. "And you're drunk."

"Oh, you think that dessert is a food?" Nathaniel inquired, surprised at his brother's stupidity. "Well, your parents didn't teach you smarty skills, did they?"

"Mum and Dad left, Nate," he prompted his brother. "They didn't teach me much before that."

"You wonder why," Nathaniel spat, turning a few heads in our general direction. "You're a bloody disgrace; look at you. It's your stupid fault they're gone in the first place and you keep denying it, you fool. You and I both know what happened that night, Atticus, and you can't lie to me."

"It wasn't me," Atticus growled, anger taking over his suspicion. "It wasn't."

"Oh, so you're a liar too?" Nathaniel demanded, and by that time everyone in the pub had turned to watch them silently. "You still trying to convince yourself that they left, huh?" With a clumsy hand he grabbed Atticus' wrist and shook it violently, referring to the tattoo painted on his wrist. "I don't care if you've got problems, kid, and I don't care if those idiot doctors keep tellin' me not to bring it up because nobody tells me what to do, you hear?"