Stan was walking around during the evening, wanting to get out from the bar and the chaos that was there and have a secret smoke. It was addicting, and mixed with the alcohol, he was sure this night was going to be one he wouldnât remember. Though right now, getting drunk and blacking out seemed like a plausible thing to do, and seemed to be the route he was going with. There were times that Stan wished he could disappear, or even become someone completely different, someone worthy of actually making it to the big leagues.
As he fished through his pockets for the cig he had taken from Madison, the boy put his hands in his pockets and made his way out of the club and into the fresh air, only to be greeted by a group of fans. Cursing internally, Stan smiled and greeted them, nodding when they asked if they could take pictures. It seemed like this was going on forever, and he wished that there was someone who can take him away from the group. âHey guys, it was great meeting you, but Iâve got to go, Iâm meeting with someone,â he smiled, pushing his hands into his pockets as they all waved goodbye, moving away from him together in a pack.Â
Stan was about to walk away, turning to face the club again as he tried to decide where to go and bumped into someone as he turned. âOh shit I am so fucking sorry,â he muttered, his voice slurring just a little from the amount of alcohol he had consumed in the few hours he was inside, he was definitely going back after this. âCrap I didnât mean to do that,â Stan tried, taking a deep breath. âI didnât hurt you did I? you didnât drop anything? Fuck,â he chimed again, running a hand through his hair, âUhm, sorry, shit.â