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The bass of the music that blared so loudly inside the apartment vibrated against the wooden door, even standing outside Brook could easily recall the familiarity of that hip hop song as he waited for someone to open the door.
He was late by an hour, but it was intentional. If he was being honest with himself, he knew what it was, the reason that clogged his throat just by thinking about the party. He was dreading it or rather dreading seeing someone.
He didn't want to come, but he was weak against his heart. Even though, hurt and ugly frustration of an unknown feeling was the only thing that waited for him behind that door, yet he couldn't bring himself to run.
He loved it too much, the suffering, the chaos. Some may call it being sadistic, but he couldn't help it. He loved clinging to whatever shreds he could, even if they sting and slit his skin.
As soon as the door was pushed open, he was instantly consumed by a heavy cloud that reeked of alcohol and weed and something more reckless. An unfamiliar girl invited him in, closing the door behind.
And just like he expected the house was swarmed with people, lost into each other or in their own world. He recognized a lot of faces from his university and some outsiders, giving him drunk sloppy greetings or just a pat on his back. He would give them a fist bump or half hearted smiles, walking towards the lounge.
His best friend Zane spotted him from his spot on the armchair and putting the drink in his hand on the nearest table, he got up, rushing to his side and engulfing him in a big hug.
"I didn't think you would come." A flash of understanding crossed his eyes and Brook knew what he was referring to.
Of course, he was his best friend, who knew everything before anyone else. The only person he trusted to never share his deepest secrets and darkest fantasies with others.
Gulping down the lump stuck in his throat, he nodded, forcing out another lie. "I can't say no to free booze, y'know."
He was pathetic, but fuck it, he never cared. Right now, there was one thing, one person on his mind, manipulating his words. Controlling his mind, his feelings and emotions like a puppet, even if he never intended to. Somehow, he wondered if this was all in his head.
Zane raised an questioning eyebrow, clasping a hand on his shoulder before saying, "Right. I'll get you a drink, what do you want?"
"Something strong." He simply replied.
When Zane left his side to fetch his drink, Brook decided to step inside the lounge and allowed his eyes to roam the area. People scattered on the floor, toppled over the couches and loveseats, people sharing a joint, a drink, even kisses. People swaying around lazily with the music.
His gaze fell on the person, squished on the couch with two other people, he didn't pay attention to and it's like all the air was caught inside his body, like someone punched him straight in his guts and he hated it, but he craved the feeling.
