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He sat upon the red, cushions stool, eyes gazed over as he stared into oblivion, clutching a glass cup filled with a brown, flavorful whisky.
The smokey taste of the toxin coated the inside of his mouth, breath smelling like the rich liquid as his tongue played with the almost spicy substance, swishing it around his mouth.
Gliding serenely across the surface of the glass, the whisky swirled around aimlessly as Mark churned it, mind miles away.
His vision was subtly blurred, but it barely affected him in the slightest, which lead him to believe that he hadn't drunk enough. The sounds of laughter and constant chattering seemed to fade into the background, as if it were white noise, easily trumped by the persistent cries of his mind.
Lifting his cup to his lips, Mark closed his eyes for a moment as he swallowed down the whisky, detecting a faint flavor of vanilla lurking within the thick taste of the liquid. Setting down his alcohol for the moment, Mark softly let the bottom of the glass clink against the bar, eyes distantly staring into his past.
A smile, a laugh, a memory.
He could swear he could see her through the slight blurriness of his gaze, almost luring him to drink more, as if she was deluding him to believe that if he became black-out drunk with an inability to see straight, she's present herself.
Her dark eyes gleamed happily beneath the tranquil, spring sky, a large smile plastered upon her cheeks. Her laugh had echoed throughout the secluded neighborhood, traveling across the silent air like a steady, serene airplane soaring through the sky. Her sunkissed skin glowed with reflected rays of sunshine, yet it made her look angelic in the peaceful light, adding to the seraphic illumination her smile cast upon the world.
But it was all just a memory.
The soft ringing of a bell dully reached Mark's ears, signifying the entry of yet another person desperate for a drink, but Mark was barely aware of it as he continued to wallow in his past.
Almost not realizing that a shadow had begun to occupy the space beside him, Mark only continued to think, mind growing hazier with every sip of whiskey he ingested.
His eyes snapped to attention when the figure beside him lurched forward quickly to grasp a drink from the bartender's grasp, startling the unaware Mark slightly.
When his eyes drifted towards her, he had to do a double-take, finding the girl oddly familiar.
Her long, black hair fell over her shoulders limply as she grasped the drink in her hands, Mark immediately recognizing it as a margarita. Her brown irises gleamed with stress as her narrowed eyes stared sadly at the drink before her, lips pursed together as she thought- just as tangled in her brain as Mark had been.
She wore an unruly, oversized hoodie, and it barely clung to her shoulders as it draped off of her, causing her too look like she was drowning within the folds of the fabric. Round, circular glasses were perched upon her nose, and they twinkled with the reflections of the dim lighting in the bar, coupled with the sunshine that streamed in through the window.
Mark sighed, eyes narrowing at her as his gaze lingered around her drink, finding it oddly strange.
"Isn't it kind of early for a margarita?" He asked, causing the girl to jump slightly.
Whipping around towards him, her widened eyes and surprised expression melted into a sarcastic smile- her own gaze wandering to his drink.
"Isn't it kind of early for judgement, Mr. I Drink Whiskey Instead Of Coffee?" She snarked, a mischievous smirk upon her lips.
Mark scoffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes at her as he took another swig of his drink, finding her witty comment enthralling.
—
Mark was out of breath, wheezing with humor as he clutched his stomach, nearly stumbling out of his chair.
Night had fallen, and Mark had achieved the title 'drunk', but at least he wasn't drinking alone. Cheeks blazing red and incredibly insensible, Mark thought he was going to throw up from cackiling about everything and anything, accompanied by a very drunk girl beside him.
"-then s-she was like, 'Who do you think you are, bitch?' And-and I was l-like 'I'm Eun!'" She flourished, wildly waving her hands around, "'It's my fucking squirrel!"
Mark burst out into laughter, pounding his fist on the table as the very random conversation slurred through his ears, barely keeping tray of what was going on.
"'I'm Eun!'" He repeated, finding those specific words quite humorous.
The guffawing girl suddenly froze, whirling towards him as her eyebrows scrunched together, and her lips formed a confused pout, accentuating her bright-red cheeks.
"No, I'm Eun!" She challenged, squinting as she swayed in her seat.
In a haze, Mark scrambled around in his chair to face her, bottom lip protruding as his malfunctioning brain spun, causing him to wonder if the floor was the sky, and gravity just fucked up.
"No- I'm Eun!" He shouted, waving his finger lazily at the bartender instead of the girl in front of him.
"No I am!"
"Nawh I'm!" Mark ineptly argued, eyes drooping.
"Wait- a-arent you Mork?" She slurred, trying to huff her hair out of her face, but ended up talking it over her eyes.
"Are-aren't y-you Moark?" He mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.
"Oh yeah," Eun stammered, laughing at the spinning world around her. "Mwork."
Giggling at absolutely nothing, Eun- or Mwork, as she thought- doubled over as her laughter grew, falling onto the floor.
Head banging against the hardwood, the girl began to laugh harder, now accompanied by Mark's howls of amusement, pointing a finger at Eun as she held her stomach- laughing thunderously.
"You're plane- da- the- squirrel," Mark poetically announced, his words punctuated by deafening chortles.
"D-damn straight!" Eun agreed, rolling upon the ground subtly as she laughed.
Mark suddenly stopped, eyes narrowed as he shifted from side to side, drowsiness pushing him towards the edge of unconsciousness.
"Wha-what about LGBTQ?" He hiccuped, because he supports the gays with all of his heart.
