//hate to feel//

//8//

So, obviously, Sean and Mike came over, and got really drunk. The three were all so happy that the group was finally together again, so they decided to celebrate.

"Man, I missed you." Mike slurred, wrapping his arms around Layne's slender frame. Layne chuckled, patting the bassist's back.

"I missed you too Mikey."

Just then Sean groaned.

"What is it?" Mike asked.

"We're out of fucking drinks."

Layne giggled loudly and said, "let's just go to the bar down the street silly."

The other two men agreed, and began to shuffle towards the door.

"Layne wait."

The singer stopped, "what?"

"You better put a shirt on."

Layne looked down, and realized that he was in fact shirtless. "Oh, okay."

When Layne walked into his room, he picked up a random shirt from his room. He was too drunk to realize that he had taken it from Jerry's house when he left.

Shrugging, he slipped it on, and headed back downstairs. And the three intoxicated men started towards the bar.

It was only slightly packed when they got there, but they didn't mine. They all ordered a round of shots and found a table.

Layne was ecstatic. He hadn't hung out with the guys like this in so long. He was so thankful that they forgave him.

"So..." Mike started, "how about that band?"

Layne and Sean grinned. "I'm in." They both said in unison.

"We need a guitarist though." Sean pointed out, and Mike nodded.

"Yeah. Layne could maybe. But I just want him to pay attention to vocals. That's his strong suit."

"Unless you want to be the guitarist temporarily Layne."

Layne wasn't paying attention, his hazy eyes were peering across the bar. Jerry sat there across another guy.

Without thinking, Layne grabbed his phone and began to type vigorously.

Layne: you told me I'm the only one.

Layne watched Jerry open up his phone, and his eyes began to scan around the room in confusion. And before Layne could look away from the two, Jerry made direct eye contact. The singer jumped out of his seat on impact, and left for the bathroom, telling his friends that he didn't feel good.

He walked into the restroom and ran over to a sink and splashed some water on his face. How do I keep running into him? He thought to himself.

Before he could answer his own question though, Jerry walked through the door.

Fuck.

He didn't know how to act. He was so drunk that he couldn't process the feelings that were running through his body.

He giggled a little. "Hi Jer."

Jerry shook his head. "Who are you?"

Layne stumbled over to the guitarist. "What d'you mean silly? You fucked my brains out the other night remember?"

He shook his head again. "Tell me your name."

"No."

Jerry gave up that topic for a minute and said, "hey, is that my shirt?"

Layne looked down and shrugged. "I dunno. Is it?"

"Stop playing these fucking games with me!" Jerry gently shoved Layne against the wall, "you're making me crazy."

Layne let out a shaky breath and said, "who's that out there with you?"

"A distraction." Is all he said, "now tell me your name."

Layne looked up at Jerry innocently and said, "no."

A low growl erupted from the guitarist's throat as he smashed his lips roughly against the smaller man's. Before Layne could protest, he felt a tongue slip into his mouth. He could tell that Jerry was angry at him, and that fact made him feel both scared and turned on.

Jerry was in fact pissed. He was so infatuated with the man in front of him, and he wanted this beautiful person to stop running away from him. He was also frustrated about Layne, whom never wanted to respond to his messages or meet up.

Jerry was almost thrilled by the chase. He wasn't sure who he wanted more.

Layne didn't know what to do. Jerry may find him attractive. But he also doesn't know who he really is. If Jerry found out Layne was the person he was making out with right now, he'd never want anything to do with him.

"Tell me who you are." Jerry breathed against his lips. Layne only pulled Jerry closer against him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Jerry moaned at the sudden urgency, and pinned Layne even harder against the wall, his teeth latching onto his bottom lip. "I will figure out who you are."

"We'll see about that." He slurred, grinding his hips against the guitarist teasingly.

Jerry groaned, trailing his hands down towards Layne's ass and squeezing. "You're so fucking hot..."

Layne, despite being intoxicated, blushed at Jerry's words. "Not as hot as you." The guitarist smirked.

Just as things were getting good, the two were startled by a pounding on the door.

"Layne!" Mike slurred, "Layne you in there?"

Jerry's eyes widened. "Layne?"

Shit. He thought.