Fix You.

[7]

"You know, your eyes are weird because they aren't brown but they aren't gold. They're like a brown-gold." Dallas said, looking at me. He was drunk as hell. But then again, so was I.

"Yours are just brown." I told him, downing my beer. "I heard that means you're full of shit." I laughed.

"I'm not full of shit, you are." he said. "Hey, I need two more beers!" he called to the bartender.

"You're actually gonna pay for my drink?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I figure it raises my chances of getting in your pants." he snickered, popping open his beer and leaning back on the bar. He almost fell out of the stool, and I must've laughed for 5 minutes.

"Maybe you already had a good chance in the first place." I laughed.

"Then I will definitely be getting some action then?" he asked, drunkenly.

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't." I got off my stool. "Let's get out of here!" I yelled, and pulled him off his stool.

"Where to?" he asked. We ran out of the bar, bumping into people and not apologizing,  and stood on the sidewalk.

"Anywhere. We can go anywhere." I said, looking up at the stars. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Maybe I was just drunk, but I could look at the stars forever. I had always loved the stars. How you could look at them and imagine what it was like where they were. How you could see them flickering like candles. How they were so far away but seemed so close. How someone out there, was looking at those same stars and was going through the same thing.

"How about we go back to my place?" Dallas said.

"Shhh. I'm looking at the stars." I said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

I snapped out of my daze.

"Nothing." I said, and looked at him.

"I said, why don't we go back to my place?" he asked again, impatient.

"Not so fast, pervert. Let's slash some tires." I said.

"Whose tires?" he asked.

"Tim's. His car is right over there." I pointed to a car across the street.

I got out my switchblade from my boot, and he got out his, and we slashed all 4 of Tim Shepard's tires. We laughed and laughed.

"Hey! Hey, kid! What are you doing to my car?" a guy that was most definitely not Tim yelled at us.

"Oh shit!" I screamed, and then ran off, laughing my ass off.

Dallas and I ran off into the night, laughing, stumbling, with no destination.