Don't Forget. [on hold]

Wasting All These Tears.

"Scout..."

"She's the one from Starbucks," The brunette figure namely Scout, sneers, brushing her long lock of hair out of her face.

"She's an old friend Scout," Andy insists calmly, standing between us with, taking precaution of making an arms length between us. Never have I been in a fight, nor would I like to start one. The streetlight flickers, the city noises and sirens becoming louder and louder. Scout exhales lightly, I take a step back.

"Whatever, I'm sorry I ever become between you two," I mutter, turning around and beginning to jog, my feet hopping on the pavement. Tears begin to blur my vision, a sob leaves my hollow lips. How stupid am I? I should've known my feelings mean absolutely nothing to him no more, he has his eyes set on the brunette, Scout. I'm so stupid, for still loving him after all those years. Hoping, dreaming that would re-unite and that we could go back to normal. I wipe away my tears as I take a sharp turn at a corner, surrounded by darkness I follow this unknown path until I come across a loud, booming noise.

I stop outside a brick building, music pulsing through the walls, excessive laughter an octave louder than the symphony of the music.

It looks pretty complex, about three stories high and a few bouncers doing rounds outside, their placid expression and suits making them stand out. I take a breath, calming my nerves as I shuffle into line behind a fairly well-built bloke. The bouncer inspects me for a moment, my heart pounding against my chest impulsively before giving me a nod of confirmation. I smile at him as he opens the door for me, I walk in and I'm immediately pounded with overly loud chatter and music.

I make my way through to the little island in the middle and order a beer, noting to go much heavier and large in content as the night progresses. "Rough night?" Inquires the bar tender, passing along a drink to a girl, possibly a waitress. I shrug, taking a swig of my alcohol before setting it back down on the wooden counter. 

The alcohol helps numb the pain, the pain of being in love with him after all these years only to discover that he's moved on. I'm such a pathetic person, for still believing that he loved me, ugh boys are the worst. I fold my arms on the counter and rest my head on my arms,I close my eyes, allowing the tears to fall - a con of alcohol; it makes you emotional as fuck. 

"I'll have the whiskey," Says a new voice, I shake my head.

No, No, No, No. WHY?!