You're a Hot Mess (Peterick)

Chapter Eight - No Good

I was right in thinking Patrick wasn't going to leave Elisa. He told me this morning that he needs a little time to think. I can't see what there is to think about. Elisa's a whiney bitch, but it seems I'm the only one who realises it. Everyone loves Elisa.

The light of the bar keeps flickering on and off and the whole place smells like cigarettes, sweat and vomit. It's the only place around that'll sell alcohol to anyone who's not 18. As long as you don't mess the place up the bartender'll serve you whatever you want. This is handy when you want to get fucked up to forget things. Or everything.

They're sitting in a booth together, Jon and Joe keeping them company. Fucking traitors. She slides her arm around his back and leans into his arm, giggling at something he said. He kisses the top of her head, chuckling with her.

"Another beer?" The bartender grunts and I shake my head. "Vodka." I mumble, turning around in my stool to face him. He raises an eyebrow but gets me it anyway. I can handle it, shut up.

I notice that Brendon and Gabe both keep looking at me, trying to get my attention. I ignore them. I want to be alone right now. And maybe later too. Hell, just leave me here until I die. Yeah, that sounds good. I'll live off peanuts and soft drinks. The odd bottle of whiskey now and again.

"Here you are." He sets down a vodka in front of me, ice floating in it. The ice floating at the top of the drink is pushing down other ice. That ice is drowning. It's drowning in a liquid, something it's made off. Funny, that. Patrick's making me feel like I'm drowning too. I'm drowning in heartache and recently it's like that's all I'm made of.

That with a drop of jealousy of course.

Hey, I'll admit it. I'm jealous. And that's a pretty shameful thing to be. But what's even more shameful is how clingy she is right now. And the rest of the time too. But she doesn't care and he doesn't care and just no one gives a fuck about anything.

Except me.

I was once told that being in the minority is a good thing. That it's unique, that it shows that you think differently or act differently. They were wrong, being in the minority means you've messed up somewhere along the way.

That's what it means to me anyway. Then again, I am a little tipsy.

I down the drink in one go and the bartender looks at me wearily. "Go easy on that stuff, kid." I give him a thumbs up and smile widely, and possibly a little drunkenly. He shakes his head in disbelief and turns away from me.

I swing around in my stool a few times, stopping when I see Patrick approach me. "How's the girlfriend?" I slur slightly. I'm not even that drunk. I swear. "Oh wait let me guess." I feign looking thoughtful and gasp, "Of course! Better than me in every way right?"

Patrick frowns sympathetically. He's not even mad. Patrick barely ever gets mad and it's annoying. He sighs and walks past me to lean against the bar. "Water, please." The bartender nods and gets him a glass of water a lot quicker he's gotten anything for me all night.

Patrick faces me, glass in his hand. "Take this and sober up, you're drunk." He hands it to me slowly and I grab it, frowning. "Hardly." I emphasise but he isn't convinced. "I've never actually seen you like this. You don't get drunk." I laugh because that's extremely accurate. I drink but I'm always smart enough not to get drunk. Not on a school night at least.

"Look it's not like I'm about to throw up or anything." I chuckle hollowly and then freeze. Patrick must see me pale and green slightly because he takes hold of my shoulder and pushes me from the stool. "Shit.. I knew I shouldn't have had that third glass."

"You've had more than three-"

"Of whiskey."

Patrick looks horrified and doesn't seem to know what to do. I make a groaning sound and bend over, vomit spilling from my mouth onto the floor. I empty my stomach and most of my organs and straighten up, realising that the entire bar is looking at me. The bartender is stuck in a spot, his finger frozen in the air, pointing at us. Patrick mutters a swear and grabs my arm. He pulls me away from the spot to the door, the bartender shouts after us but we make an escape.