He wasn’t in the mood for the mind games he used to play with himself... He was just paranoid and he sort of loathed himself for it.
Brendon just needed a drink.
“I’ll be right back,” Ryan had told him, but the pumping music had muffled the man’s voice. Brendon had turned around to tell him something, but he was already gone. One more flash of panic had filled his brain. The strobe lights were hurting his eyes and the noise level was creeping into his mind as a horrible migrain. The party was too much for Brendon. Way to intense.
He pushed his way through the tightly packed crowd until he found the bar. It was dimly lit and very few people were actually sitting there, so Brendon decided to take advantage of it and dropped into a seat with a sigh.
“Need a drink?” Came the voice of the bartender. A small nagging in the back of his mind told him that it sounded oddly familiar, but Brendon pushed the thought away. He wasn’t in the mood for the mind games he used to play with himself; the ones where he told himself that a certain someone was right behind him and he would turn around and see nothing. He was just paranoid and he sort of loathed himself for it.
“Yeah. Give me the strongest you’ve got.”
As the bartender mixed his drink, Brendon tried to get a better look at his face. Even as his drink was handed to him, Brendon was unsuccessful.
”Weird,” he thought to himself before taking a sip. The drink tasted a like something he’d had before many times, but something seemed slightly off. Nevertheless, Brendon drank every last drop and asked for more.
Ten minutes and three glasses later, the side effects of the alcohol started to kick in. Brendon felt the room spinning and a jumbled voice in his head reminded him that Ryan would have to find him soon or he was going to pass out at the bar. An overwhelming chill filled him and caused him to shiver involuntarily. Just as he was about to stand up, a firm hand seated him once more.
“Stay a little longer, babe,” the all too familiar voice of the bartender whispered into his ear. The warm breath against his skin made Brendon squirm in his seat, along with the fact that this was no regular bartender.
Brendon tried to speak, but the words refused to form properly. All that came out of his mouth was a jumbled mess of sound, but the single name was all too clear in his mind.
He tried to speak once more, but the strain of trying to move his mouth correctly fatigued him.
“Hush, babe, I’m taking you home,” was the last thing that Brendon heard before he was scooped up in Derek’s arms and the room got very dark and very quiet very fast.
Gah! It's really short and I'm really sorry but there's a long chapter coming soon I promise. ;)