Best I Ever Had (Iwaoi) [CANCELLED]

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Oikawa felt his insides turn upside down when the loud electric music that echoed all throughout the room blurred his own thoughts. Puffs of smoke arose in the air, and the pungent stench of alcohol made the corners of his lips drift downward. He almost thought of backing out while he was still a few steps away from the revolving door, but the strong urge inside that made him want to forget the pain – even for a single night – was enough reason for him to stay.

An abrupt, rough and violent movement was his initial reaction whenever someone would make his way towards him, as if he was irked by the presence of everyone inside. It wasn't usual for Oikawa to go clubbing, and whenever he does, either Kuroo or Iwaizumi was with him.

He hated clubs. He hated the idea of getting wasted for fun. It was no fun at all. What was the point anyway? When you forget every single detail the next morning.

He was so sure that the beating of his own heart was perfectly in sync with every drop of the bass from the mix that was being played. Oikawa stood near the entrance long enough for him to accumulate a number of sidelong stares from the club-goers. When he felt uncomfortable under their gaze, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before he forced himself to start taking steps towards the dancefloor.

Oikawa's nose crinkled. The club was suffocating. The ones that were on the dancefloor appeared as silhouettes to him because of the thick sheet of smoke that enveloped the atmosphere. It was like a fog, no, a smog was in the room. His hazel eyes stung under his glasses, and it was as if he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

The thought of being surrounded by drunk – and probably high – people made him cringe. He knew this was a bad idea, but he was left with no other viable options to distract himself, not that this was a viable one either.

A stream of never-ending curses ran through his mind. He was scolding himself for being so low to even think of coming here, to have come here.

Oikawa was practically being tossed, nudged by random elbows and pushed as he made his way through the sea of drunk people in the dancefloor. With every contact, he could only grimace and roll his eyes due to sheer frustration. He felt like rubbing his temples, but even that wasn't possible because he found himself stuck between groups of Goth-looking teenagers that clearly didn't take the basic dance classes being taught at school seriously. Even a three year-old kid could pull classier dance moves than what they were showing, if he could even call it dance moves.

He was literally stranded in the middle of the club. The flashy and obnoxious play of party lights had him squinting the whole time. The music was just too loud for his 'excuse me' to be heard, and he was reduced to curling his fists so tight until it turned hot white, a muscle feathering in his jaw.

Oikawa breathed a sigh of relief, and thanked all the gods he knew when he finally got out of whatever mess that was back there. Though breathing properly inside a smoke-filled club was still an issue, it was so much better than being nudged over by petty, and pretentious teenagers who probably thought of themselves as notorious rebels in order to establish a cool and awesome reputation of their own. He shook his head and clicked his tongue at the thought. Just what had the youth become?

He padded towards the counter, lolling on one of the high chairs as he gawked at the brightly colored drinks on display that he didn't know even a single name of. He scanned the place again, heart racing inside of his chest and the only thing he was sure that he wanted to do at that moment was to go home.

The thought of spending another second inside this godforsaken hellhole made his systems want to breakdown.

The smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles; every vice that Oikawa had been ordered, and knew he should avoid. He raised a shaky finger to call the bartender, and when he did not bother he turned his head slowly to his right to watch an employee scrubbing the glass of the chiller cabinet, recently re-stuffed with those stupid garish alco-pops all the teens were slurping faster than coca-cola.