Even Now

Chapter 7: Easy Lover

March 23, 1993: Seattle, WA, USA

Layne wakes up to the sound of the fridge door being opened. He notices that Mike Starr is no longer in front of him, that the TV is still on, and that it is significantly darker outside.

What time is it? Why isn't Demri home yet?

"Mike?" Layne calls out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He winces as he notices the pain in his back after being slumped over in a chair for the past... hour? Hours? Who knows.

"Yeah, I'm here," Mike calls back. Layne notices that he sounds... sober.

Guess I was out awhile.

"How long was I asleep?" Layne asks. He sighs when he notices that Mike had re-retrieved that beer.

Mike sits down across from him again. "Well, during that last 'made-for-TV-movie', I'd say... about an hour, hour and... twenty minutes, probably. I really didn't think I was that boring to hang out with."

"No, no, I just-"

"Fuck. It's flat."

"What?"

"The beer."

"Oh... well, it was already opened, and it sat in there the whole day."

"You still ruined a perfectly good beer," Mike murmurs, putting the beer down on the coffee table.

Layne sighs again. "The beer had to be 'sacrificed'. You sound sober now, and that's what's important."

Mike scoffs, about to say something when there's a honk from a car outside the building.

"Well, this is happening," Mike grins, standing.

"What? What's happening? Oh, shit, is it that-" Layne starts, before Mike grabs him, covering his eyes. "WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!"

"Don't try to fight it, Staley," Mike laughs, dragging him out of the apartment. "Damn, you're strong."

Layne hits Mike a multitude of times, but to no avail. "You fucking psychopath! Let me GO!"

"No fucking way. I've been waiting all day to get drunk because of you. We're doing this."

Layne groans frustratedly, making a last-ditch effort to stomp on Mike's foot with his boot.

"HEY!"

Layne smirks.

***

After about ten minutes of being driven blindly to an unknown location in a car full of snickering idiots (Sean and Mike Starr are no doubt those idiots), they arrive at their destination.

"We're here, boys," says Sean, barely able to contain his amusement at the image of Mike practically on top of Layne as he's trying to keep his eyes covered.

Layne sighs. He feels like he's been sighing a lot recently.

When you have idiot friends, you tend to do that a lot.

"Here? Where's 'here'?" he groans.

Mike starts to shove him out of the car, still covering his eyes. "You'll see."

"Get your sweaty hands off of me! I'll fuck you up, Starr, I swear," Layne threatens, swiping at Mike's hands.

"Aww, it's like a kitten trying to put up a fight over here," Mike remarks to Sean, who laughs. "Just wait a second, okay? Literally almost there."

The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol is pungent as soon as they step through heavy-sounding doors.

"Ooh. We're in a bar," Layne sighs again, almost tripping as Mike pushes him forward.