T. B. Sangster Imagines [REQUESTS CLOSED]

Hands Down- Chapter 8

"Y/N.."

I didn't know how, but at some point the microphone slipped out of my hand as soon as my eyes caught those familiar chocolate brown orbs.
All of a sudden, I'm having a hard time to breathe.

"Thomas.." My voice came out in a whisper.

Should I be glad that he found me somehow?

Should I run into his arms and cry hysterically?

Should I go ballistic and let it all out in front of the crowd?

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a familiar pair of lips are attached to mine. Those lips that I've been longing to touch with mine ever since I left...

But I just remembered why I left him.

So I pushed him away from me and slapped him across the face. I heard the crowd gasp but I didn't care, I was too distraught to care. There were tears running down on my face and I didn't even noticed.

I was breathing heavily, trying to contain myself. Thomas came closer to me but I backed up. I was out of words. I shook my head as if saying that I don't want him near me.

I looked around me to find myself that I was still on the stage, with the other looking at the scene we were making.

I couldn't take it..

I'm tired of crying..

So I ran..

I ran without the audacity to care about the people that were still watching the whole situation.

I don't have any idea where my feet will take me. But I sure do hope it's a place where no one will notice me and my current state right now.

A place where I can just forget about this evening.

Soon, my feet came into a halt as they led me to a pub down an alley.

I was about to enter, but my conscience said otherwise. It made me hesitate.

Is this really the right way of forgetting this whole thing?

Sure, I have had a drink of these alcoholic beverages before, but not so much that I would do something stupid enough to get myself hurt.

But of course, I entered the pub anyway. There were only a couple of people hanging here so that was nice. No paparazzi will pester me for the night.

I sighed as I sat in front of the bar. The bartender looked at me, expecting me to say what I want to order. "A bottle of beer please," I quietly ordered. He nodded in understanding and finished wiping a newly washed mug.

He opened the bottle with a bottle opener and let it slide down to my hand. "Thanks." I said to him as I lifted my bottle up as if I was saying 'cheers' to him. I took it to my lips and drank it up as I neglect the burning sensation that was runing down to my throat.

The next thing I know, 6 empty beer bottles are gathered up in front of me and a half-empty bottle of this alcoholic beverage in my hand.

Of course, I got drunk already; my eyes are droopy, my vision is starting to blur, and my head is spinning like a windmill. But I didn't let anyone notice that I was.

I zoned out like a fly. Until the bartender served me a glass of margarita. I looked up to him in bewilderment.

"It's that guy's treat." He nodded across the bar and I followed that direction to see a man checking me out with his smug face.

I may be drunk but that doesn't mean I'd let these kind of people go sauntering over and flirt with me.

I rolled my eyes at him and formed my face into a frown as I stand up from the stool with the glass of margarita in my hand. I approached him whose face is still sitting there smugly.