Joshler One Shots

Burning

a/n: yo, it's been a while, i hope you guys had a good holiday. sorry it's short, i haven't wrote anything recently, and i'm struggling to find new ideas.

Everything was too long.

The days, the nights, my hair, my sobriety.

I just wanted to forget everything and - ironically - the pure, self-righteous, longing.

That's where the alcohol came in, the ridiculously pleasing pain, as it burned down my throats and settled into my lower stomach like acid.

Any pain was better than the pain you left in my heart.

Another, and another, and another, and another.

And then I collapsed, slumped against the painful bar, like the worthless prick I was, as the bartender watched, bored.

I'd be pretty bored watching me too, there was nothing entertaining about a man wallowing in self-pity, so drunk that tears could only build lazily in his eyes.

There was another man, maybe a boy even, sitting at the other end, drinking just as much as I, if not more.

He reminded me of him, so I quietly whispered for another shot.

That's how I was tonight, silent and brooding. Normally I would be drunk, loud, making a ruckus and finally being kicked out.

But tonight? Tonight there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to mask the agony I felt in the deepest orifices of my soul.

The boy at the other end of the bar slid next to me, giving off a light so bright I didn't dare look at him.

Or perhaps I was just so wasted, that I didn't have the energy to look.

"Are you drunk?" he murmured.

I nodded. There was no need to speak because it was not important.

"I'm drunk too"

I did not care, so I did not speak.

"Are you a top?"

A top what? A top hat, shirt, toy?

Or a top in bed?

Obviously not, why would he ask that? My thoughts were not coherent, and looked more like this;

whywouldheaskthatwhatdoeshemeanidontunderstandidontunderstandidont-

So I nodded.

He slipped a sly hand onto my thigh. "It looks like we both need forgettin' it looks like?" His grammar was horrible, but so were my thoughts. "Can ya help me forget?"

This was pedophilia, it had to be. "How old are you?" I grunted.

He frowned. "Old enough."

I turned to the bartender. "You, how old is he?" My voice still low.

"24, and his ID isn't fake, either."

The boy- or perhaps, the man - smiled triumphantly.

"Now fuck me." He mumbled.

The next morning I opened my eyes, and instantly regretted it.
Next to me, was an empty bed, lucky me.

The boy, must've given up trying to convince me to sleep with him. I was too hung up on Tyler. "Was," I still am.

I'm not saying it was my fault Tyler and I broke up, but it wasn't his. I knew I shouldn't have left him alone that day. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I knew how bad he was feeling, yet I still felt the need to tell him I was busy and not bother going to see him.

And just like last night, I'm going to find myself at a bar again tonight, probably getting just as drunk as I still feel right now. And not caring.

Trying to fill the missing piece of me that Tyler took, with alcohol.

The burning sensation made me grimace, as I sat up, and picking up the closest bottle to me and chugging.

My eyes suddenly felt heavy, and I fell back asleep.

The burning of the alcohol slipping down my throat, was almost calming as I dreamt of the boy I shouldn't have lost.

But did.

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