Tokyo Is Our Vegas // Brolby

五

| | F I V E | |

" かどうかを尋ねる。あなたが私から離れていく方法は、私の頭を揺さぶる」"

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Sat on the stairs, watching him flash fake smiles at anyone who approached him with a camera phone and a few thousand followers. In the city of Los Angeles, clickbait is plentiful and a famous person is always around the corner.

The red plastic is slowly crushed in his hand, anger pulsating through his blood cells as he realizes that now, after months of being back home, that everything they had shared is over.

Brown eyes fall to the floor with no emotion before slamming shut as he threw back his head and chugged the half cup of alcohol he still had.

Around him it's a bit fuzzy and spinning, but the slight buzzing in head made all his sad thoughts fade away, so it was fine.

His red solo cup is in the trash within the next couple minutes once he slips upstairs, over the party that still boomed through the large speakers.

Sleep does not allow the boy to be his company.

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Colby stares at his ceiling, the whiteness of it looks gray in his dark room. The music that booms underneath him in muffled by the walls and flooring that is in between the two. He lays on top of the covers on his bed, his thoughts going at alarming rates but flying past him in slow motion, he's thankful that there was a party going on and no one would be upstairs for quite a while. He had until at least two am.

When he had first entered his room, the door closed and locked behind him, the first thing to go was his t-shirt, replaced by the nearest hoodie he could find, slipping it on then taking off his God forsaken skinny jeans that had suddenly gotten so suffocatingly hot. Those are replaced with sweat pants, his final destination was the bed.

He remembered the trip, how he would lay in bed at the hotel and feel arms wrap around his torso, a kiss pressed into his neck, and sweet words were whispered in his ears. The other boy wore his hoodie, he always said it smelled like Colby, and he smelled Tokyo.

Colby always wondered what Tokyo smelled like, did it smell like dance clubs and neon lights or did it smell like small cafes and cherry blossoms? Did it smell like getting lost and holding hands? Did it smell like airports and goodbye kisses? Did it smell like turning around and abandoning what they once had?

The knock on the door startles him from his drowsy state, pulling him away from the verge of sleep. A part of him is bitter about the interruption, another part is grateful that he doesn't have to venture into the unknown territory of sleep. He pulls himself out of bed, wiping at his face as he padded over to the door, unlocking it and opening it.

"I saw you left the party early, you okay?" Sam asks him, concern in his eyes as Colby lets out a sigh of relief about the fact that it was him instead of someone else. "You can tell me, it's fine. Not even Kat will know." That's what Colby liked about his friend, he was so loyal to him and had such good advice.

"I'm okay, Sam, I'm just tired and-" Colby pauses, his eyes falling to the floor once again "I didn't want to see him, so I came up here." He doesn't want to see how Sam would react to his reason for leaving, how disappointed he must be that Colby is holding on to something that ended so long ago.

Instead, he's pulled into a tight hug, his face pressing Sam's acidic washed jean jacket and he holds back his tears as Sam continues to hug him. "It's okay, Colby, I understand."