Drink to Remember, Smoke to Forget

3: The Price to Leave

July 4th, 1988

What little remained of the party's snacks and refreshments, stray remnants of Doritos and Cheese-balls, had grown disgustingly inedible as the night progressed. Their once savory crisp taste was now stale and sodden, laced in the musk of the summer humidity and smoky air. No longer were they the delicious snacks they once were, but scraps for the insects of the forest, scavenging the leftover food like vultures in the desert.

A wave of nausea lurched in Louis' throat, threatening to spew his morning's breakfast, a few slices of apple pie, all over the forest floor. He could hardly stomach the idea of eating a crumb, let alone acting like the boy who sat at the base of the stump, munching on the cheesy chips without hesitation.

The pale-faced boy sat comfortably on the forest terrain, his back relaxed against the bark of the stump, and his knees pulled close to his chest. His bloodshot eyes lay transfixed to the night sky, unblinkingly observing the few luminous freckles that were visible to their naked eyes—dimmed by the lights of the city in the distance. Had he not been eating the contaminated snacks, Louis would have assumed him to be passed out drunk. After all, from far away, he appeared as more of a corpse than a source of amusing socialization. It was apparent to Louis as to why he was alone, abandoned by his previous company. As Louis had seen during his meandering trek through the party, the rest of Deb's group had dispersed throughout the area, indulging themselves with the alcohol and company provided. Not one person had stuck around to carry on a conversation, polite or otherwise. Not even Niall, whose pale skin and platinum dyed hair was nowhere to be found in the sea of spray-on tans and brown hair.

Louis couldn't help but think he had more in common with the boy then he had previously imagined. A thought that brought another wave of nausea in Louis' throat and tears in his eyes.

"Hey... Goose," Louis muttered as he approached him, stifling a miserable laugh as the words left his mouth. Ever since Goose began working at the museum at the beginning of the summer, Louis had always thought Goose was an interesting character of sorts. Even from what little he observed at her mandatory lectures, Goose always seemed a tad more eccentric than what Harry's posse deemed "cool" or "wicked." In fact, just a few days before, in the staff manor's parking lot, Harry was caught by the administration with his fists a little too comfortable with the sides of Goose's face. It was indeed a surprise to Louis that he was even there at the party, rotting away on the edge of the clearing with his lips smeared in cheese dust. "Have you seen Niall?"

"He went that way, I think," he mumbled, motioning lazily with his head towards the wooded area behind him. Louis glanced up at the forest, eyeing the tree line as if to spot Niall from where he stood. But he couldn't see more than a foot's length into the thick barricade of trees. With the sun all but gone past the horizon of trees, the forest had become like the darkest depths of the sea, a mysterious home for unimaginable secrets. There was no conceivable way Louis would be able to find Niall by herself, especially if he did not know precisely what Goose meant by his words. Louis did not know whether Niall had merely stepped out of the fray to relieve himself in the seclusion of the forest, or if he had left the party for good. All Louis knew was that, if Niall had left, his supposed friend would have a lot more than a hangover screaming at him in the morning. After all, as a permanent name on the list of the uninvited, the route between the clearing and the museum was not one Louis knew well. He needed Niall's guidance to get back home. Thus, crossing his arms over her chest, Louis patiently waited for either Niall or Goose to come to their senses. However, after a few somewhat awkward minutes of standing next to Goose, nothing had changed. Niall had not come back to the clearing, and the boy beside him made no move to elaborate on his remark. Six words were seemingly enough for him.

"Can I borrow your flashlight?" Louis asked as he pointed at the pastel-colored plastic object that lay beside him. Goose only nodded his head, not putting up a fight as Louis reached down to take it. "Thanks."