#drunk conversation

“Alllright!”

“Are you drunk?”

“Not as much as him.”

“He’s always drunk. I’ve known you guys for round and about 12 years and I’ve not even once seen him sober.”

“Got a point there. He had a girlfriend once, but that was-”

“You can stop. I know that story.“

“...”

“So, having fun?”

“Not really. Drinking on your own is… odd.”

“Y’know at least half the people here.”

“Doesn’t mean, they’d interact with me if I don’t make the first step. Which I’m not doing because they are too drunk now for striking up a regular conversation.”

“I started a regular conversation with you!”

“What you did, and still are doing, is trying avoid uncomfortable silence.”

“...”

“Wanna go grab a smoke?”

“I don’t smoke. And neither do you to my knowledge.”

“What do you know about me, huh? See, m’wanna get out of here ‘n you seemed so too.”

“You ain’t driving nowhere tonight.”

“I didn’t intend to. But I am about to leave. You’re sober, right?”

“Almost? Wait, you want me to take you home? I was told to wait here, my parents said they’d be right back.”

“You’re old enough. Tell them you’re leaving and not to drive anymore. Then go.”

He stands up, holding out his hand I spot his car key dangling from his fingers. I silently take it and avoid his eyes. As I follow him through the masses, he stretches his arm behind him at some point. First, I only touch his arm, to let him know that I’m still following; but soon I let my hand glide down and lock out fingers. He guides me through the people, passing the stage, the toilets, the entry and walks me over the dark parking lot until we find his car. 

I drive him home and dropp him off, before continuing my ride home. After he left, I casually take in his car. It is clean and nothing is laying around. Glancing in the rear mirror I spot the drums they used for their gig earlier, so he probably wasn’t home in-between. The most important aspect of the car comes to my attention as I turn off the motor, already parked in front of my apartment-complex. It smells like him.