Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
――"SOMEONE TO STAY."
⎛ CHAPTER ONE. ⎠
Beam sighed, running his fingers through his unkempt, raven-colored hair as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. You should have seen this coming, he scolded himself as his eyes found the discarded, skin-tight, blood-red cocktail dress she had used to tease Beam when her piercing, emerald eyes greeted his own dulled, black eyes. He remembered how the word 'no' had settled on his tongue, but how the fabric of her dress had felt so soft――so tempting―― against his fingertips.
Beam searched for his belongings. His black khakis had been discarded beneath the bed, his belt only a few feet away, his virgin-white, collared shirt that had been ironed only hours before now damp and wrinkled. "Tsk." Beam clicked his tongue as he took one last, almost pity-ing glance, at the sleeping figure who had whispered as their breaths tangled and their clothing dissapeared, "I love you," to him.
"Tsk. Stupid."
Beam turned away, guilt heavy on his chest. He never wanted to be this —— he never asked to be like this. But the days alone were long, and the nights alone were longer. He needed something... he needed somebody.
Even if that somebody was no more than a stranger.
. . .
It was Beam's second visit to the bar that night, and his seventh shot this hour. He should be drunk, his words should slur, his vision blurred, and his world should be a false euphoria, but it wasn't. It was still far too sober and he was still far too awake.
So, he took an eigth shot of pure tequila.
"Ai'Beam?"
Beam didn't react at the sound of his name, at least, not at first. Instead, he busied himself with another drink, his hand half-raised, preparing to call for another when the hand he has raised was grabbed unexpectedly. Beam, unnerved, glanced at the hand that held his wrist. It was tan. And, peeking from his wrist, was the black ink of a tattoo he couldn't quite make out. "Ai'Beam," the same voice slurred, however, this time, it was much, much closer. Beam could smell the whiskey in his breath, hell, he could almost taste it, and the cologne that mixed with the smoke of his numerous cigarettes overwhelmed Beam's sense of smell. "Oye, Ai'Beam"—Forth released Beam's wrist, his hand making its way to the collar of Beam's shirt—"What? Ai'Asshole made you stop talking to me, too?"
Beam sighed. "What do you want, na?"
Forth leaned most of his weight against Beam, too drunk to support himself. "I want to know what's so great about him, what does he have that I don't have?"
Beam frowned. "Do you mean Pha?"
"Yeah," he huffed, his breath hot and damp against Beam's cheek, "him."
"You're drunk," Beam scrunched his nose, "and smell bad."
"Your ego is just bruised," retorted Beam, rolling his eyes. Beam's fingers traced the rim of his still-full glass. "Get off me, na."
Forth didn't move.
Beam internally groaned. "Ai'Forth"—he bit his tongue, already regretting the words that had yet to leave his tongue—"let me take you home."
To Beam's surprise, he nodded.
Beam stood, Forth's weight still heavy against him as he did so. With one arm curled around Forth's waist, and the second hugging his chest, the two stumbled their way out of the bar—curious eyes following them. "I'll call you a taxi," said Beam, tightening his grasp on Forth, "and they'll drive you home—"
"No"—Forth thrashed his head in a negative gesture, and, as strongly as his drunken self would allow, he held him tighter—"Ai'Beam will leave Ai'Forth."
Beam grunted words not even he himself could understand. "Jeeze, Forth," he sighed, "I never knew you were such a clingy bastard." Forth said nothing, instead simply allowing his head to rest against Beam's stiff shoulder. Beam gazed down at Forth, entranced, almost. Throughout all the years he had known Forth, never had he revealed such vulnerability, such... Heartbreak.
Had he really been in love with Wayo?
Sighing, Beam glanced down at the curb and, carefully, he sat himself down, Forth still hugged against his chest. "Ai'Forth," he called softly, "I won't leave, okay, na? So... just... sleep."
He would like to believe it was the alcohol that led Beam to be so... kind toward Forth.
He didn't know if it were in his head, but he thought he heard the most delicate whisper of a "thank you" before silence.
