hypnotic- wilbur soot

𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 (rewritten!)

ahhh short chap sorry

i don't know how long i spend on my porch, swaying drunkenly from side to side, watching the sidewalk with blurry eyes. i wait for him to come back, in some idiotically lovesick stupor. i couldn't comprehend why he wouldn't stay. my dress was short, i was filled with liquor, and most importantly, i wanted him. any normal man would've jumped on me the moment they saw me, taking me to bend me over the porcelain sinks in the bathroom of the nightclub. but there was something different about wilbur soot.

there was something untouchable, a part of himself that he kept tucked away deep within his body. a part of him that i wasn't sure i was good enough to reach.

he's respectful, leaving me here when i'm too drunk to walk in a straight line. i begin to wonder if i'll remember this tomorrow morning. thinking too much about how much i had to drink makes my stomach churn, flipping in anxious circles about god knows what. the dizzy feeling overtakes me, and i lean over the railing of my porch to wretch into the bush below. this certainly wasn't the first time this bush had seen the contents of my stomach, and i'm sure it won't be the last.

after i empty myself of the greasy appetizers i'd downed at the club and the various amounts of alcohol i'd consumed, i sit down on the painted wood of my front porch, leaning my back against the hard plastic railing. fifty thousand thoughts come and go as i stare at the light of the moon above me, i wonder where wilbur went, i wonder why he didn't stay.

i don't know how long i stay there before i hear footsteps approaching the porch. when i look up, i see my friends, staring down at me with drunken concern. they ask me a few questions. how did you get here? where have you been? aren't you cold? i ignore most of them, or blow them off with an answer they'll accept without pressing any further. after a few minutes of questioning, they unlock the door and push it open, dragging me inside along with them and pushing me towards the living room, where more drinks were already being poured and people were piling on top of one another on couches and bean bags that we had scattered across the living space. i find myself sat on top of a beanbag, leaning into the table and joining conversation as i'm handed more shots. i take them wordlessly, though my stomach turned over in disagreement, and lean back into the bean bag, the chatter continuing to echo across my skull.