And It Was On A Day Like This

Chapter 1

Dan was drunk. Very drunk. Admittedly not as drunk as Sam, who was currently slurring pick-up lines to the bartender while she blatantly ignored him, but drunk nonetheless. And now they'd have to walk back to their apartment. Great. It'd been Sam's idea to go to an off-campus bar, and Dan should've known better than to trust Sam to keep his promise of being the designated driver for tonight.

He stared gloomily into his whiskey from where he was perched atop a bar stool, just about ready to walk out and leave Sam to stumble home by himself. He really needed Matt here - it took two to drag Sam out of a bar before midnight and Dan didn't think he could stand being here another minute.

He was just about to tell Sam this for the fifth time, when a guy with messy green hair sauntered up to him, leaning casually on the bar and looking him up and down with one sweeping gaze that left Dan feeling oddly exposed. He smiled broadly.

"You look miserable all on your own. Come sit with my friends and I?" He nodded to a table behind him and laid a hand on his arm in an obvious attempt at flirtation.

Dan froze. This guy was male, and flirting with him. This was the third time in as many weeks. Was it really that obvious that he liked guys? His two best friends had failed to notice, and although he knew he had to tell them eventually, he was more than happy for it remain that way for now. Which wouldn't happen if guys at bars kept flirting with him.

"Oh, um, sorry. I don't- I'm not, um, like that. I mean," he coughed, waiting for his brain to catch up to his mouth and hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he thought he did. "He's my friend", he declared, gesturing to Sam, "so I'm not by myself. And we're heading home soon. Thank you, though." He was nothing if not polite.

The boy shrugged. "Suit yourself", he said, walking back to a table where a blonde girl was talking animatedly to a boy whose eyes were fixed on Dan, but who quickly looked away when Dan met his gaze. As the guy with green hair sat down at the table, the boy began whispering to him, obviously agitated and sneaking not-so-subtle glances at Dan every now and then, who couldn't help but wonder what the hell they were talking about. The guy looked only a year or two younger than himself, but had a sort of boyish softness to his face, a hint of femininity, that endeared him to Dan. His hair gave the impression that he'd just rolled out of bed, but he looked so alive, like he'd taken about six espresso shots and then been told he'd won the lottery. Cute, he thought, before dismissing the thought as ridiculous. After all, what was he gonna do about it? His attraction to guys was fine where it was: buried way, way down.

This is why he didn't drink. It brought things to the surface, things he was much better off not thinking about, things he didn't want to think about, because that meant dealing with them. Alcohol made his mask slip, the mask he spent every second of every day perfecting. Good grades, responsible, clear-headed, straight. That's who he'd always been, and so what if he wasn't happy with it sometimes? He'd chosen this, now he had to deal with it. So maybe he couldn't just walk up to people he thought were cute and shamelessly flirt with them the way Sam did. That was just tough. Ugh. This is why I don't drink. It makes me want things I can't have.

He turned back to Sam, ready to quite literally drag him out of the bar, only to find him slumped over the counter, seemingly on the verge of unconsciousness. Rolling his eyes, he attempted to rouse him.

"C'mon you great lug, I wanna go home." Same stirred and groaned, and Dan wondered just how much he'd had to drink.

.

The midnight air outside the bar was like a cold slap to the face, and Dan groaned inwardly at the thought of having to walk the half an hour back to the flat in the cold, half carrying a plastered Sam, when he wasn't exactly sober himself.