Alcohol is a funny thing↠ dylmas

3

"Hey, you alright there?" asked the british boy sitting down by his side with a red plastic cup in his hand and a frown on his face. Dylan was distracted with his own thoughts, but they weren't precisely the soberest. He had been there for several minutes, maybe half an hour, drinking from the crystal bottle that was almost full not so long ago — now it was nearly empty; one more sip and the liquor would be gone. "Dylan?"

"What?" Dylan snapped. He didn't mean to sound like that, but something in his mind wasn't working right. He felt angry, but not at Thomas, he was just angry because Thomas would never love him back, because he was a total coward for not telling him about his feelings, or just because he was drinking his anger, sadness and frustration away. He was drinking his love for Thomas away. 

"N-nothing... Sorry," said Thomas, his voice sounding confused and hurt. He knew something was up with Dylan since he noticed how he passed from being all smiles and laughs to have a fake grin upon his lips and eyes looking at the package in his hands intensely; Thomas was sure Dylan was just trying to avoid his gaze.

Thomas gulped and put the plastic cup on the floor next to the couch, so no one could kick it and spill over the liquid left in it. He played with his feet and hands, looking everywhere but at the brunette next to him. Dylan realized about what he had done, so he swallowed quickly the alcohol left in the bottle then put it down on the floor. He stared at Thomas, feeling tipsy and trying to think of any words to say; he needed to apologize for snapping at him, it wasn't his fault. It was Dylan's fault for falling for the brit boy with dirty blonde hair and mesmerizing brown eyes. It was Dylan's fault for not telling him about it. It was all Dylan's fault, that was the only thought he had in mind. 

Thomas sighed and got up, but Dylan grabbed his hand just in time and made him stop. "Tommy... I'm sorry," he slurred, and didn't realize until now how difficult it was becoming to do a simple action as talking. Thomas turned around and looked at him, a smile cracking on his face and a gleam in his eyes. He sat down again and never let go of Dylan's hand; he thought the boy wouldn't mind if he held it for a while. 

"You're drunk as fuck," Thomas stated and Dylan laughed. 

"Nahh, I'm- I'm not. I'm okay." Thomas didn't know why, but he found the boy's expressions adorable. He never had the chance to see him drunk, and fuck, he was adorable. Though it wasn't an "adorable" friendly way, it was something else. And when he looked straight into those hazel eyes, it was like a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Nevertheless, it wasn't a bad feeling, it felt good and made him feel all fuzzy inside; and even if he knew he should care about it, he didn't. 

"Yeah, of course you are," Thomas answered with a roll of his eyes. "So, feeling better now?" 

"Yup. Much better," Dylan replied, his words still slurring. He got closer to the blonde boy, and they still had a hold of each other's hands. The warm of their skins felt good; it was a really nice feeling from such a simple gesture. 

"Dyl, how much did you drink?"

"I- I dunno..." And then he giggled. Thomas thought he was like a little kid and loved the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled. He wasn't so surprised for admiring the boy's beauty 'cause he always does, but he tried for a long time to push those feelings aside thinking that Dylan wouldn't return them back. And it wasn't like he was sure that Dylan felt the same, he just thought it would be a good moment to just enjoy being next to him the way he had always wanted because the boy was so drunk and wouldn't remember anything the morning after. 

They stared at each other. Thomas observed the way Dylan's cheeks gained a pink color and Dylan was enchanted with Thomas' features and the way he was looking at him; he was drunk, but even in that state of intoxication he was able to be delighted by the feeling Thomas was giving him with a single look and the grip of his hand. It felt like a dream, those kind of dreams you never want to wake up from. 

"Heyy... You wanna dance?" Dylan asked still having a hard time pronouncing his words. Thomas wanted to say yes, but thought that the boy couldn't even stand on his feet.

"Are you sure you want to stand up? I don't think it's a good ide-"

"Absolutely!," Dylan shouted; he wasn't aware of the volume of his own voice. Thomas watched him standing up, his hands on his hips and a huge smile on his lips. He shook his head and couldn't help laughing at the drunken boy, then he got up and stood by his side. "Shall we?," asked the brunette in a tone that made Thomas giggle.

Thomas nodded and took the hand that Dylan was offering, then he was guided through the small group of people. Dylan stopped next to Tyler and said something in his ear, followed by laughter from both boys. After that, Tyler disappeared and Dylan approached Thomas. "Well, are we going to dance or not?," asked the blonde boy.

"Uh-huh. Just wait a sec!" And it took literally a second. The music changed abruptly and another electro song played, though it seemed to be Dylan's favorite song or something; the boy had a huge grin on his face and started to dance so clumsily that it was inevitable not to laugh at him. "Well, are you gonna dance or nah?", he spoke over the music. 

Thomas nodded with a smile and began to move to the rhythm of the fast melody, getting closer and closer to Dylan. At first it was all innocent and appeared to be just two friends having a good time. Thomas threw his head back laughing when Dylan made some weird moves, and he didn't care if the guy was drunk because he was acting the same way as usual. What made it all different was that by the time the song changed, a sexier one played through the speakers. And of course, the atmosphere changed too — at least it changed for them. 

Dylan got closer than ever to Thomas, his hands grabbing him by the waist and his hot breath hitting directly on his neck. Thomas wanted to say something, anything, but the words just didn't come out. He just decided to enjoy the moment, to take pleasure in the way Dylan started to leave soft kisses on the crook of his neck while he was grinding on him, and he touched the younger's back, feeling the heat of his skin over the thin material of his t-shirt.

Thomas internally thanked the person who had turned the lights off, and God, he wanted to get the most out of the moment 'cause the alcohol was the reason of the way Dylan acted like that  — or that was what he believed.