A New Life - 15. Chapter 15: Night Out

The assembly of people with Blake at the bar that night were spread across a long wooden table, seated two or three to each of the wooden, backless bench-chairs tucked underneath.

It had been decided that everyone would sit inside the bar that night, at a table, so that they could order something to eat as well as to drink.

Blake disliked most social settings, but in particular he hated the ‘beer hall’ configuration that so often seemed to occasion birthday dinners involving large groups of people at restaurants.

The problem with this setup, so far as Blake saw it, was the tendency for smaller groups of between two to four people to form, each gathered around a single conversation. Since it was usually impossible to hear what someone was saying if they were more than one or two people away, there was always the risk that, in the chaotic formation and dispersal of these conversations, an individual could suddenly find themselves left out entirely and wind up feeling very foolish.

In Blake’s experience that sort of person was generally someone like himself. Extroverts like Nats rarely found themselves in this sort of predicament.

On this occasion, Blake was leaning over the table until he practically had his ear in his salad, as he tried hard to appear part of the group that had formed to his left. This group included Haze, Patty, Derrick, Matt and Carlos.

Derrick sat at the head of the table, on a stool he’d dragged over from another table nearby. For the most part, the conversation seemed to revolve around him and Patty. Carlos and Matt sat on Blake’s left, meaning that Blake had to lean over every time the conversation passed to Derrick from Patty, which was often. He found this awkward and annoying, but he had little choice since he could barely make out what was being said, such was the din inside the Kulibari Billabong that night.

Patty was across from Carlos and Matt, practically sitting on top of Haze. Her arms were wrapped around her boyfriend in imitation of some kind of strangling octopus-like-creature, one that had ensnared its prey and would never let go.

At least that’s how Blake would have described it, had he been asked.

He was truly grateful for the numbing effects of the medication right now. However, he still found himself unable to contain the loathing glares he would send Patty’s way every time she pawed at Haze.

In particular, Blake hated the way she would slip a finger between the buttons of Haze’s shirt, so as to stroke and caress the skin of his chest. He hated that Haze was even wearing that boring, navy-blue button-up shirt, as a matter of fact, mostly because he could tell it was Patty’s selection. Haze was a casual sort of guy and she had clearly put him in what she’d considered a more ‘going out’ shirt. In addition, she’d dressed him in dark-coloured trousers, an item of clothing that was not only out of place in the casual atmosphere of the resort bar, but also quite unsuitable for the summer evening’s muggy heat.

To top this off, Haze’s gorgeous shaggy locks, which Blake always thought looked their best windswept and wild, were tonight combed straight, parted down the middle and looking damp with some kind of greasy hair product.

Blake had never seen Haze ‘dress-up’ for a night out before, but he felt certain this was not how the blue-eyed boy would choose to look, if he’d had a say in the matter.

Of course, what Haze made of his appearance or the attentions of his girlfriend was anyone’s guess. For the most part he seemed to be unaware of the situation and equally oblivious to the intimate physical contact. However, Blake wasn’t entirely sure of this conclusion. Haze had been acting introverted for the entire evening thus far, so it was hard to tell for sure.

Haze was smiling and apparently engaged in the conversation going on around him, but Blake could tell this wasn’t really the case. Haze wasn’t just being quiet, he was being detached and avoidant, his cheerful expression was a mere mask.

That said, who would know what was really going on inside his head?

At that moment, Blake felt himself flinch a little as Patty gave Haze another peck on the cheek. It was unpleasant to have to watch Haze being molested by her all night. Even more unpleasant than having to lean over his food, to feel part of the group. However, the alternative group of people to Blake’s right were an even less appealing bunch.

This group consisted of Nats, her two friends from the night before and also Vicky. Their conversation was more of a ‘huddle’ and seemed to generate conspiratorial glares in Blake’s direction whenever he turned around casually, which was every time he needed to take a break from glaring himself at Patty. He didn’t need to hear what they were saying over the noise of the bar to know what they were talking about. They were talking about him and it wasn’t nice things they were saying either, judging from their facial expressions.

Up to four people could squeeze onto the bench Blake was sitting on, but as it was he had almost the entire space to himself. The only other person sitting on his chair was one of Nats’s friends and she had scootered over as far away from Blake as she could manage. He was sure that if he stood up suddenly, her weight at the far end would be enough to tip the bench until it fell over.

He’d considered testing the theory more than once.

The noise, the crowds and the seating arrangements were anxiety-inducing enough, but added to the other social complexities Blake could keenly feel the building pressure, the panic rising, the risk of a complete mental meltdown, barely contained.

However, safely medicated, ‘barely contained’ was sufficient enough for Blake. In fact, he felt he was holding it together quite well really. He may be uncomfortable and counting down the minutes until it was okay to leave, but emotionally he felt stable enough to last out the evening.

That was until he heard the clunk of glass hitting the table beside him and turned around to find Derrick sitting there grinning at him. He had apparently abandoned his spot at the head of the table and had come over to make use of the space next to Blake.

“I didn’t know what you like to drink, so I just got two of what I’m having,” he said, pushing a glass of beer over in Blake’s direction.

Blake scowled at it, annoyed at the directness of this new approach to force alcohol down his throat. He had thus far managed to dodge the starter drinks by being strategically late and then the pre-dinner rounds of tequila shots by artfully making for the bathroom at the time. After that, when everyone had sat down to the table, he had managed to turn down every offer of a round of drinks by indicating the glass of soda water he had been nursing. The bartender had put it into a scotch glass with ice so as to make it look like vodka, at his request.

“I said I didn’t want anything thank you,” Blake responded, smiling tightly.

“I know,” Derrick said, wagging an eyebrow at him in an inebriated fashion. “It was very rude of you.” He lifted his own glass as if to toast.

Blake glanced around the room looking for some excuse or source of rescue, but instead his eyes only landed on Patty and Haze again. She had just put some piece of food into Haze’s mouth and then followed it up with a kiss. The sight made Blake feel queasy, a sick sort of bitter, twisting, angry feeling inside, despite the effects of the medication. He quickly looked away and back over to Derrick, who was still holding his glass raised high, waiting for Blake to join him.

Fuck it, Blake thought, before taking the beer and then clinking his glass against Derricks.

“To a fun night out!” Derrick declared, before taking a swig.

Blake snorted bitterly, but he doubted Derrick was sober enough to notice based on his silly grin and the slight sway of his glass.

“Cheers,” Blake said simply, lifting his own glass and taking several large gulps all at once.

The beer was refreshing and the taste familiar.

“What is this?” he asked.

“The beer I like to drink,” Derrick responded, winking at him.

“Which is ... ?”

“Pure blonde.”

Figures, Blake thought to himself. Low-carb beer was the beer he drank too and that pointed to one thing: gay. Or at least body obsessed. It wasn’t the sole prerogative of gay men he supposed and to maintain such a toned body Derrick must surely take some care with his calorie intake. Perhaps he was just a health nut?

“So whereabouts in Sydney are you from?” Derrick asked, interrupting Blake’s musings.

Blake knew he hadn’t mentioned he was from Sydney before, nor had it come up so far this evening. Clearly, someone had been talking to Derrick during the time they had all gone home to change.

“South-side, Cronulla,” Blake responded, more and more convinced he was right about Derrick’s sexuality, as he studied his companion’s choice of eveningwear.

Derrick, like Haze, was also in a dark buttoned up shirt, but whereas Haze’s was shapeless and drab, Derrick’s was sleek, sharp and fitted, cut high up the arms to show off his biceps and low at the neck to show off his chest definition. Blake had to admit he did look damn good, a little too good for a straight guy.

“I dunno where that is exactly. I’ve only been to Sydney a few times to go partying. Stayed with some friends of mine in Surry Hills.”

The gay suburb, Blake thought, ticking-off another box in his head. He decided to go ‘fact fishing’ though, just to make sure.

“Where’d you party?”

“Oh ... err ... a few places.” Derrick looked a little unsure of himself for a moment, scratching at his head before continuing. “Clubs. Can’t really remember their names. Um ... Arq maybe?”

Bingo, Blake thought to himself. Arq was definitely a gay club, at least most of the time. Every now and then it was ‘mixed’ so a safe answer to pick if you wanted to play your cards carefully, as Derrick was clearly doing now.

“You heard of it?” Derrick asked, looking hopeful.

“No, I haven’t heard of it, but I’m not really the partying type.” Blake told him, figuring to himself that at least half of that sentence was true. He definitely wasn’t the partying type.

“Really?” Derrick said, drawing out the word. He was eyeing Blake sceptically and for a moment Blake was worried that he’d been caught out lying.

“Y-Yeah ... why ...?” he asked nervously, reaching for his drink again so as to give himself an excuse to break eye contact. He took several more mouthfuls of the bitter liquid, pleased to be free of Derrick’s intense pale-blue eyes.

“I dunno,” Derrick responded and then he took his time surveying Blake’s appearance, much to the other’s discomfort. “You just look like the clubbing type?”

Blake glanced down. He was wearing his D&G t-shirt which he supposed was a little trendy. He couldn’t imagine what else Derrick might be talking about. Or was this code for something else?

“Well ... I’m ... I’m not. I don’t really go out much at all, actually.”

He realised that this must make him sound lame to Derrick, so he tried to cover over his discomfort by finishing off his beer with some impressively large gulps. He then placed the empty glass on the table.

“Can’t imagine why not,” Derrick said, giving him that same unnerving look again.

Despite the medication, Blake felt a little uneasy with the way Derrick was behaving. He went to reach for his beer again, but it was empty. Without a prop to hide behind, he felt naked and exposed before Derrick’s shrewd eyes.

“Another round?” Blake asked, deciding that a trip to the bar would be a good excuse to put some distance between them.

“Sure,” Derrick said, sculling the rest of his beer, which was still half full, before plonking it down on the table.

“Same again?”

“Why not.”

Blake got to his feet, immediately noticing how difficult this seemed. He then tried to lift one leg over the bench, but caught his toe on the edge and stumbled instead. His hand ended up landing heavily on the table causing the glasses to jump.

Derrick chortled at this.

Blake blinked and tried again, feeling a rush of blood to his head and a little dizzy for his efforts. He soon stopped once more, this time with one leg on either side of the bench, leaning over to put both hands down for balance. He didn’t understand why this was so difficult. He figured it couldn’t be the effect of just one beer though, so he just shook it off with a side-to-side swish of his head.

“I’ll come with,” Derrick said, moving along the bench to stand up as well.

“No!” Blake interrupted a little more forcefully than he had meant to.

Derrick looked down at the hand on his shoulder and Blake, realising that it was his own, whipped it backwards, almost losing balance in the process.

An awkward moment passed between them.

“It’s my round, I’ll get it,” Blake eventually said, feeling very embarrassed all of a sudden.

He then briefly wondered why he would be feeling such embarrassment, since he’d only just taken his meds a few hours ago. He shouldn’t really be feeling much of anything at all.

Weird.

He didn’t spend too long thinking about this though. It seemed more important to put some distance between himself and Derrick, the source of the embarrassing feelings.

With some difficulty, he managed to haul his other leg over the bench.

“Be back in a tick.”

“Hang on. I’ll give you a hand, carrying it.”

“I’m fine, really,” Blake protested, swaying unconvincingly.

“It’s no trouble,” Derrick told him, standing.

As he lifted himself up off the bench, it started to rise up with him under the weight of Nats’s friend perched right at the other end. She squealed in shock, causing Derrick to snigger.

She glared at both of them and all of a sudden Blake found himself laughing out loud, a big belly laugh that seemed totally disproportionate to what had just happened. He knew he should not be laughing. He was supposed to be feeling numb.

Derrick stood up again, holding the bench down until the other girl could shift along a little and then he joined Blake, the two of them making their way over to the bar.

The room was packed and Blake felt a little claustrophobic all of a sudden, to add to all the other strange things he was now feeling. He stopped to catch his breath and then wondered why on earth he would be out of breath in the first place, since they’d only walked about five metres.

“What’s up?” Derrick shouted, leaning into his ear.

Blake was about to respond when he felt Derricks hand on the small of his back, causing his breath to hitch. The contact was warm and not at all unpleasant, but it made him nervous and he forgot what he was about to say.

“Come on,” Derrick shouted again, pushing them forward by applying pressure with that hand against Blake’s back.

By the time they’d reached the bar Blake was feeling confused and forgetful. He wasn’t sure what they were doing at the bar anymore. He wasn’t really interested either. He was more interested in Derrick now. Blake hadn’t really noticed the guy much since he’d downed the drugs that afternoon, but now he couldn’t seem not to notice. Derrick was a distractingly good-looking guy.

Derrick rested his forearms on the counter, causing his muscles to bludge as he leaned across to order some beers. He turned to wink at Blake as they waited and Blake felt himself squirm under the attention.

When the bartender finally did return, Derrick handed him a twenty dollar note and it was this that jogged Blake’s foggy memory.

“Hey! It’s my round!” he shouted leaning over towards Derrick and frowning crossly. He didn’t like being made to feel like a moocher.

“Too late!” Derrick smirked, poking his tongue out a fraction.

Blake felt quite put out by this. More than that, he felt challenged. So, when the bartender returned and gave Derrick his change, Blake decided to order something else.

What had everyone been drinking before?

“A couple of shots of tequila!” he shouted to the bartender who nodded and turned away.

Blake spun towards to Derrick with a boastful expression, but the other boy only raised an eyebrow at him, seeming pleased, rather than confronted.

The bartender returned placing the shots next to the beers, before taking Blake’s money.

Blake felt an elated, giddy thrill rush through him as he knocked back the shot without really thinking about what he was doing. The recklessness felt good. He felt good.

Derrick copied him and for some reason Blake found watching this hilarious. He laughed loudly and then grinned at the other boy.

“Now we’re even!” he said, poking his tongue out at Derrick.

“Nuh-huh,” Derrick shouted shaking his head. “I’m still one ahead.” He indicated the beers on the bar, just as the bartender was returning with Blake’s change.

Blake felt competitive and irresponsible and for some reason he was consumed by an overwhelming urge to settle the score with Derrick.

“Another round!” he shouted at the bartender, who just rolled his eyes and took the change back.

“I thought you weren’t the partying type?” Derrick shouted.

A moment of hesitancy crossed Blake’s mind as it occurred to him then that Derrick was right. He really didn’t party. This wasn’t like him at all. But then he felt that strange high, that elation and rush of energy and all of a sudden he felt sure of himself once more.

“I lied!” he shouted back, reasoning that this was also a half-truth. He had been pretending not to know about the name of that nightclub before. So this lie sort of balanced that lie out. He felt a little dizzy thinking about it, but was sure it made sense.

The bartender returned again with the shot glasses and Derrick took hold of his, raising it to his mouth with a cheeky grin while waiting for Blake to do likewise. Blake followed suit and then Derrick counted to three before they knocked the shots back together.

Derrick had already had plenty to drink that night, yet these shots seemed to roll right off him. Blake on the other hand, coughed and spluttered at the fiery drink as it slid down his throat. He then pushed off from the bar and almost fell over, promptly launching into giggle fits about this.

“Whoa there!” Derrick said, hand at Blake’s waist again, ostensibly to help him balance. “Maybe I’ll carry the drinks huh?”

Blake didn’t feel challenged by the coddling anymore. He was having too good a time now to really think much about that.

“Carry my drinks!” he ordered, with mock haughtiness.

Derrick rolled his eyes and laughed, before taking hold of the pints and leading them back through the crowd.

Blake was feeling great as they pushed through the throng of people. All those bodies helped to keep him upright and now they didn’t seem all that intimidating or anxiety-inducing after all.

When they finally got back to the table, the dynamics of the group had shifted somewhat since everyone had finished eating dinner and were now more casually arranged. They had spread out a bit, claiming a few smaller tables nearby and also some barstools. More people had joined them and everyone seemed to be talking in smaller, more intimate groups.

Derrick led Blake around the table that they had been sitting at before and then over to the other side where there was now some space. Nats and her friends stared at them from the other end, but rather than feel intimidated Blake felt majorly pissed off.

Where did they get off hassling him like this?

He made a face at one of Nats’s friends who quickly shied away.

“What’s their problem?” Derrick asked, leaning over to shout near Blake’s ear as he placed the glasses on the table.

Blake knew that he really shouldn’t be gossiping, but figured Derrick was only staying a couple of weeks at most anyway. What could it hurt?

“They’re pissy at me,” he said gruffly, glaring back at the girls, as they sat down.

“Why?”

“Cause I don’t fancy one of them that tried to kiss me.”

Derrick guffawed loudly at this and he slapped his knee.

“Which one?” he asked, lifting and lowering his eyebrows.

Blake knew that he really, really shouldn’t say anything this time, not with the way the girls were glaring at them, but inhibitions were absent and restraint seemed unnecessary.

“The girl with the freckles,” he said finally, but then he immediately regretted opening his mouth when Derrick turned around to look. Drunk as he was, he was being really obvious about it.

“Don’t look man!”

“The one in the white shirt?” Derrick asked, pointing.

“Don’t point!”

“She’s hot, what’s wrong with her?” he asked, turning back to fix Blake with a strange, knowing look.

“N-nothing,” Blake stuttered, feeling a sudden rush of anxiety. “She’s just ... not my type.”

The anxiety had seemingly come from nowhere, powerful enough to make his head spin. He reached for his beer then and took another big swig. Beer would take away this anxiety. Surely?

“So what is your type then?” Derrick asked, leaning over slyly.

Alarm bells were going off inside Blake’s head, but just then, as quickly as it had arrived, his sudden rush of anxiety began to ebb and disappear. The elation and euphoria returned once more instead, that rush of confidence and recklessness consuming him.

“Blondish, surfie type, with killer blue eyes,” he responded, feeling clever about his cryptic description of Haze.

Derrick arched an eyebrow at this, the one that wasn’t pierced.

“That girl seems pretty close to blondish, surfie chick to me?” he pointed out, his words sending Blake into another tailspin of anxiety.

Blake briefly wondered about this rollercoaster of up and down emotions. One minute he was feeling the kind of extreme anxiety that normally took hours to build and then the next minute he was feeling on top of the world. This did seem very strange to him, but it was becoming too difficult to be self reflective about it. It was hard to concentrate now and analysing what was going on inside his crazy head took a lot of concentration at the best of times.

The beer helped, he just needed to drink more beer.

He grabbed his glass and took a few more gulps before crashing it back down on the table.

“Well she’s not,” he told Derrick in a stubborn, defensive tone.

Now Blake’s emotions had moved on to anger. He was sick of the way the girls were looking at him, at the way Nats was looking at him in particular. Accusingly. What was her problem?

“They’re all bitches,” he spat.

“Calm down dude ... sheez.”

Blake’s fiery eyes flicked from Nats back to Derrick, ready to snap at him. However, instead he felt a flutter of still different emotions, the sensations dizzying and uncomfortable. He noticed that Derrick was closer now. He’d scootered up close sometime after they had sat down. Blake lowered his eyes and noticed that Derrick was straddling the bench they were sitting on, one leg on either side. Derrick’s crotch was almost touching Blake’s knee.

When Blake next looked up Derrick was smiling at him, almost smugly.

The rush of these confused and contradictory emotions started to overwhelm Blake. He was nauseous with anxiety again, but also excited and on top of this angry and spiteful towards ... towards what he wasn’t sure.

He felt pretty certain now that Derrick was gay, but more than that, it was almost as if Derrick was making a pass at him. That didn’t make much sense though. Derrick was hot, super hot. Why would he be interested in someone like Blake? Thinking about this made Blake feel angry, but he didn’t know who he was angry at and that made everything even more confusing.

His head was spinning and now the room was spinning too. It was just so hard to be sure of what was going on, of what he was feeling.

“Maybe we can find you another girl then, that’ll really piss her off,” Derrick suggested, leaning in to be heard over the din of the bar.

He placed his hand on Blake’s leg as he did this, an innocent enough gesture, but one that sent Blake’s heart aflutter and his breath racing. He could feel the wind of Derrick’s exhalations on his face, the smell of the bitter beer on his breath. Beer mixed with something else, kind of ... minty?

Blake felt himself blush and his voice stumbled.

“N-no thanks ... I’m okay ...” he fumbled, unable to meet Derrick’s scrutinising eyes.

Even if Derrick was gay, Blake couldn’t understand why Derrick would be interested in him.

Except, he probably wasn’t very interested, beyond maybe a bit of ‘fun’. Derrick was heading back to Perth in a week or so. Hardly enough time to be looking for a boyfriend. Maybe he just wanted a fuck? It was only a small town, probably no other options. Blake might be the centre of attention by default. It was the only way someone like him would ever get interest from someone like Derrick.

“You are single, right?” Derrick asked.

“Y-yeah.” Blake squirmed under the direct questioning, lifting his glass to give himself something to do, more than to drink.

“So you’re not getting any?”

Blake blushed, feeling that sick twisting in his gut, humiliation and anxiety and something else. It was hard to know what he was feeling, he just felt so dizzy.

“So?” he responded gruffly.

“And you’re ‘okay’ with that?” Derrick asked, with mock incredulity.

It was meant as a joke. Blake knew that it was. But all of a sudden he felt awash with sadness and despair. There was a stinging at the corner of his eyes, a quiver of his jaw. The emotions were strong and they seemed to pile on top of everything else he had been feeling. Overwhelmed and baffled by these sensations, Blake wasn’t in the frame of mind to hide them from his face.

Derrick quickly seemed to notice.

“Whoa there dude,” he said, his voice immediately changing in tone. “Hey man I’m sorry, I was only joking.” Gone was the mocking, playful voice. Now he sounded concerned.

Blake stared at his lap as he tried to regain control. Derrick’s compassionate tone of voice wasn’t helping things either. It only made Blake feel weak and pathetic. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to block out the overpowering emotions.

But then he felt the pressure of Derrick’s hand move and he watched as the other boy reached out to place the side of his index finger softly beneath Blake’s chin. Derrick applied a gentle pressure there, forcing Blake’s head upwards to make eye contact. Blake was too stunned to stop him, but once he’d made eye contact with those pale blue eyes he discovered that he didn’t want Derrick to stop. The sensations felt good. Derrick looked good. Everything about this moment was good.

Blake stopped breathing. He just gasped.

“Hey Blake ... listen I ...”

Derrick didn’t get to finish what he was saying though, as at that moment there was a terrific crash, causing him to jump and to move his hand away. The noise had managed to cut through the racket of the bar and was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby.

Blake forgot about everything that was happening with Derrick, as his eyes whipped over to the source of noise. There he saw some kind of commotion and an upended table and chair. Matt was standing, laughing. Patty was nearby, squawking angrily, dusting something off her clothes. Some other people around them seemed alternately angry or amused.

However, Blake’s foggy, confused gaze landed on only one face for more than a second, a face that never failed to capture his attention. Haze was staring back at him too, glaring with intense blue eyes.

Of everyone standing around the ruckus only Haze seemed uninterested in the fallen table. He just maintained his glare at Blake. As usual, his expression was difficult to read, but he seemed almost angry.

For reasons Blake didn’t understand, he felt himself wilt guiltily under the intensity of the look Haze was giving him, but that only lasted for a brief moment. Haze’s attention was soon drawn away, almost reluctantly it seemed, as he appeared to finally notice Patty’s fists beating at his chest. Haze grabbed at her wrists distractedly, glancing over at Blake one more time before turning his full attention to his girlfriend.

Blake could tell that Patty was angry with Haze. She pointed at the mess and shoved at him as she shouted something Blake couldn’t make out.

“Uh-oh!” Derrick hollered, laughing. “Trouble in paradise!”

Haze bent over and started to straighten the furniture, but he kept glancing over at Blake every now and then. Blake found this made him feel uncomfortable, so he turned away to clutch at his dizzying head.

The noise of the bar soon returned to normal and Blake took another swig of his beer in the hope it would nullify some of the crazy emotions he was feeling.

“Someone’s not gonna get his Christmas present at his rate,” Derrick joked, leaning in to Blake once again.

Blake smiled at the joke, but then furrowed his brow in confusion. Despite the dizziness and crazy emotions he felt, Derrick’s words had cut through and piqued his interest.

“What Christmas present?”

Derrick turned back to meet Blake’s eyes, looking a little shy and guilty all of a sudden.

“Err ... I err ... I probably shouldn’t say man ...”

“Why not?”

“Nah man, I can’t say.”

Blake was very curious now and he wasn’t about to leave matters there. Derrick seemed to know something, something involving Haze. Blake was always desperate for more information on Haze. His obsessive mind just had to know what Derrick was hiding.

He continued hassling for Derrick to tell him, but the other boy held firm, refusing to say anything more. He seemed to enjoy the attention Blake was giving him though, and this gave Blake an idea. He placed one hand on Derrick’s knee and leaned over to speak into his ear.

“Come on,” he said, squeezing gently. “You can whisper it to me.”

Derrick blushed, instantaneously changing from confident and macho to sheepish and pliant.

For a moment Blake wondered to himself what on earth he was doing, behaving this way. What had gotten hold of him? He wasn’t being himself at all. But he ignored these thoughts. He was too consumed by his obsession with Haze. He had to get this information out of Derrick.

He gave the inebriated boy a pouty smile and then watched as indecision seemed to race backwards and forwards across Derrick’s face as he tried to make up his mind. Eventually Derrick leaned in and spoke in a normal tone of voice, which Blake could only just make out over the noise of the bar.

“You can’t say anything.”

Blake just nodded in response.

“Well ... err ... Patty’s planning to ... err ... you know ... become a woman tonight,” he said.

He drew his head back, but Blake just looked at him blankly, so he sighed and leaned forward again.

“They haven’t um ... you know ... done it yet. Patty’s a popular girl at uni ... but err ... well, she’s been saving herself ‘til end of semester ... for Haze ... and tonight’s the big night.”

Blake felt the worse feeling imaginable inside as the meaning of Derricks words began to dawn on him. Haze and Patty were going to ... just forming the thoughts in his mind filled him with a strange mix of impotent rage and despair. He lifted a hand involuntarily to his chest as if to sooth the pain he was feeling.

Then he noticed Derrick watching him and he tried to cover over all of this with an unconvincing smile.

“Lucky Haze huh?” he managed to choke out without blubbering, without falling to pieces despite the storm of emotions inside.

The room was noisy, but now it seemed like the noise was right in his ears. A rushing sound that got louder and louder. Everything was moving and part of Blake wanted to hold his hands to his ears and to scream at it all to stop.

He had to stop this feeling.

Maybe the beer would help.

He shifted his weight to turn towards the table, causing Derrick to move backwards. He then grabbed his beer and gulped heavily at the bitter liquid, praying it would help. He sculled the rest of the glass and then crashed it to the table, to hoots and applause from Derrick.

“Another round buddy?” he asked.

“Shure,” Blake slurred, starting to feel a bit better already.

It was quickly proving too hard to concentrate on what he’d just been upset about a moment ago. He really liked the way a heap of alcohol seemed to completely swing his emotions the other way around. It fixed everything. Took away the bad. He really should drink like this more often.

Derrick hauled himself up and Blake was about to do likewise when he felt an arm on his other shoulder. He looked around to see Nats there, glaring down at him.

“Can we talk?” she asked firmly. It was less of a question and more of an instruction.

“We were just going to the bar,” Derrick interjected, placing a hand on Blake’s other shoulder as if to play tug-of-war.

“You can get this round then,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. “I’ll get the next one.”

Derrick seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then he glanced down at Blake, as if to look for some indication. Blake just shrugged and waved him off. He seemed a little disappointed at that, but he quickly put on a smile.

“Sure,” he said to Nats. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka lemon lime for me thanks,” she told him.

Derrick nodded and then turned to Blake.

“For you?”

“He’s fine,” Nats answered.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Blake said to Derrick, pointedly ignoring Nats besides him.

Derrick again seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he said nothing more as left, hurriedly.

Blake watched him go and then he spun around to face Nats. He knew that he should be feeling nervous, especially at the way she was glaring at him, but he just didn’t. He straddled the bench as Derrick had done before, feeling confident, cocky and ready for a fight.

“Howzya night Natssssss,” he slurred, dragging out the ‘s’ and then laughing at how this sounded.

“Fine,” Nats responded curtly. “How’s your night goin?”

Blake could hear the accusation in her voice, despite his confused and foggy brain, but he wasn’t at all intimidated by her.

“Awesome!” he declared, partly to annoy her, but also partly because it was true. At that exact moment, he did feel awesome. Whether ‘awesome’ would last the next 60 seconds was beyond his ability to comprehend, but for now he felt great.

“Goin’ a bit hard dontcha think?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and raised a wavering hand to point.

“Probably drunk less than you,” he retorted.

Her eyes widened and she gawked at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, folding her arms and giving him a grievous look.

The indignant behaviour and the tone of her voice really got under Blake’s skin.

“It means maybe you should mind your own business,” he fired back.

He saw the hurt cross her face, but he didn’t care. In fact, he felt satisfaction. She deserved it. She was being a bitch.

“I just ... you said ya didn’t drink and ... I was just worried about ya ...” she told him in a stern, but somewhat hesitant voice.

This really annoyed Blake. He was furious at her lies. What rubbish she was speaking.

“Oh? Is that what you’ve been talking about with them all night?” he asked sarcastically, pointing at her friends at the other end of the table.

She dropped her gaze for a moment in response, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

Blake smelt blood and he didn’t feel the need to hold back.

“Is that why they turn around and glare at me every 5 minutes? You telling them all how worried you are that I’m having a drink?”

“Ya don’t have to be such a dick,” she growled at him, though her eyes were in her lap still.

“And you don’t have to be such a bitch,” he snapped.

She raised her head at that and now they were both glaring at each other.

“I came over here ‘cause I was worried about a friend,” she told him, angrily.

“Are you still my friend?” he asked, accusingly. “Because it sure didn’t feel like it today.”

There was a pause after that as Nats seemed to deflate a little. She looked sad and miserable now, more than angry. Then she got up from the bench shakily and glared at him one more time.

“Sorry for carin’,” she said sullenly. Then she stumbled around the chairs and back to the other end of the table to sit down with her friends again.

One of her friends put an arm around her shoulder as the other glared at Blake.

He wanted to give them all another ‘fuck off’ look, but he wasn’t feeling so sure of himself anymore. His mood was swinging around again and he no longer felt the strength or confidence of only a minute ago. He became acutely aware of the fact that he was alone now and promptly looked around for company.

Matt and Vicky had a table for two and didn’t make for an appealing option. They were too busy acting like a couple in love. A fairly drunk couple in love.

He could just see Carlos too, but he was over with some other people Blake didn’t know.

That left only Haze and Patty. They had found an armchair against the back wall and she was sitting on his lap, stroking at his face.

Blake felt the anger and despair from before returning as he remembered what Derrick had told him. He scanned the table for something to drink, but there was nothing nearby, so he tried to ignore them instead. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t keep his eyes away. His attention kept getting drawn back over to their corner of the room, again and again.

She had entwined her hands around the hair at the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Not a brief or chaste kiss either, more like a ‘make-out’ kiss.

Blake felt that worst imaginable feeling building in his chest again and he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tight in the hope of quelling the emotions before they escaped, before he screamed out loud. How he hated her, hated Haze, hated Nats and hate this whole stupid bar.

Then he felt the bench move as Derrick edged his way in carrying a drinks tray.

“Where’d Nats go?” he asked, looking over at the trio of girls at the other end of the table.

“Dunno,” Blake responded, more concerned with hiding the feelings from his face.

Derrick placed the circular black tray on the table and Blake eyed the drinks hungrily. Two beers, one vodka lemon lime and 3 shots of something colourful.

He grabbed one of the shots and knocked it back in an instant.

“Hey!” Derrick shouted. “Manners! You’re supposed to wait for me.”

Blake took what was presumably Nats’s shot, lifted it to his lips and then gave Derrick an expectant ‘waiting’ look.

Derrick laughed, lifting the remaining shot and then they each knocked that one back together.

Blake closed his eyes as he felt the burning, satisfying liquid make its way down his throat. However, he soon found he was too dizzy for this and his eyes were forced open again to get a hold on the moving room.

He spied Haze and Patty once more and despaired as he felt the same horrible feelings renew. The shots hadn’t worked. Or maybe it was just the awful view he had of them, lip-locked, Patty’s hand clutching at Haze’s chest.

“So how long ya been in Kulibari Bay?” Derrick asked him.

Blake gave perfunctory answers as he carried on talking to Derrick as best as he could manage given how drunk he felt. However, he was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything or anyone other than Haze. He sat so as to face Derrick, but every now and then his eyes moved to look for Haze. They moved as if beyond his control, as if they had a mind of their own.

The room seemed to have gotten darker, the noise louder and yet somehow everything seemed further away. Blake’s vision was swimming, his head was spinning and yet still he looked over at Haze.

It hurt so much, like a stabbing wound in his chest, so he drank more beer, but still he couldn’t take his eyes off Haze.

Derrick seemed to notice he was looking at something and after he caught him looking that way a few times he turned in his seat to follow Blake’s gaze over to Patty and Haze. He turned back again with a strange look to his face, but he didn’t say anything about it, much to Blake’s relief.

However, a while later, after having to repeat himself for about the fifth time in as many seconds, he suddenly banged his hand against the table with frustration.

“How old are you Blake?” he demanded, looking tipsy and all of a sudden aggressive.

“Huh?” Blake gasped.

“How. Old. Are. You?” he repeated, emphasising every word.

Blake felt himself flinch under the withering look Derrick was giving him.

“T-twenty six ...” he stumbled, hesitant, uncertain at this new side of Derrick. “Why?”

Derrick leaned forward until Blake could see the bloodshot veins in the white of his eyes, as his lip curled and his whole face scowled.

“Aren’t you just a bit old to be closeted and doing the whole ‘secretly in love with my straight best friend’ thing?”

Blake’s jaw dropped.

“Most fags are over that by twenty six,” Derrick added, pulling back to fold his arms.

Blake’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ shape and moved in imitation of a goldfish. Already nauseous from the alcohol and the horrible feelings inside, he was now catatonic. He knew he had to rebut what Derrick had just said, but his confused, foggy mind was having problems forming sentences.

“I am not closeted!” he eventually shouted back at Derrick.

Then he winced as he realised he’d practically admitted to being gay and in love with Haze.

“I mean ... I ..” he fumbled for something to say, but it was so hard to move his mouth.

All of a sudden the nauseas feeling increased tenfold and his face paled as his hand reached for his mouth to suppress a belching sound.

Derrick went from looking angry to concerned in an instant as he jumped up from the table and quickly hauled Blake to his feet. Blake hadn’t even noticed he was falling over. He didn’t even know which way was up anymore. He tried to focus on keeping the bile down and clutching hold of Derrick. For a moment as they spun around he thought he saw Haze watching him, but he could no longer tell what was real from imaginary.

He felt himself black out now and then or else he forgot what was happening. He couldn’t seem to remember what had taken place, but now he was looking at a mess of floating shapes in a toilet bowl. There was a burning sensation in his throat and a foul taste in his mouth.

Another pang of nausea hit and he held onto the sides of the bowl on his knees now as he vomited. The gagging sound echoed around the stall.

Blake wanted to collapse right there, not caring if he landed in the toilet itself, but he felt strong arms around his chest, holding him upright and pulling him back.

“Whoa there dude,” he heard Derrick’s voice from behind and above him. “Just the puke goes in the toilet hey.”

Too nauseas to feel embarrassed or humiliated, Blake thankfully leaned back and into the comforting embrace.

“I feel sick ...” he groaned in a small and miserable sounding voice.

“Yeah, I know.” Derrick answered. “It’s okay, better out than in hey?”

Blake wasn’t sure how long they were there like that, but he was grateful for the comforting words Derrick repeated over and over. He felt several more pangs of nausea, but he didn’t throw up after that.

Eventually, the nausea died down and he felt much better although he could tell he was still very wasted. Derrick helped him over to the sink and he washed out his mouth under the taps. Then he tried to use some soap suds from the hand washing liquid to clean around his mouth. Derrick kept one hand on his waist and wouldn’t leave although Blake kept insisting that he was fine now.

It was true, he was definitely drunk, but he was no longer nauseas. He wished Derrick would stop fussing over him, he just wasn’t worth it.

Unfortunately things took a turn for the worse when he raised his head and finally noticed the full length mirror to the side of the sink.

The sounds of the bathroom and the muffled noise from the bar seemed to tune out slowly until all that Blake could hear was the thudding of his heart beat, right inside his ears. Derrick was forgotten, the whole room seemed to vanish into a black fog and there was now only Blake, starting at his reflection. Nothing else in the universe existed.

‘Just look at yourself,’ the reflection seemed to say to him.

It was his own face staring back and yet it seemed alive with an expression and personality that was not his own.

“I didn’t mean to ...”

‘You are beyond disgusting right now.’

Blake clawed at his face.

“No ... I ... No ...”

‘Look at your clothes.’

Blake looked down at the mess on his shirt and brushed at it futility.

“Stop it!”

‘Look at your body.’

Blake spun around to check.

“No! Stop it! Stop it now!”

‘Look at your face.’

Blake closed his eyes and covered his ears.

“STOP SAYING THAT!” he screamed.

He felt a shaking of his arm and he lashed out to grab at the presence preaching hate at him, but when he opened his eyes he found he was holding onto Derrick.

“Blake!”

Derrick’s face looked white and his eyes were wide.

“What are you doing?!” Blake demanded of him.

“What am I doing, what are you doing?”

Blake realised then that he was holding Derrick’s arms above the elbow, restraining them at his sides as if to keep him from attacking. He slowly let go and took a few faltering steps backwards.

Derrick didn’t follow him, he seemed rooted to the spot.

“I’m sorry,” Blake mumbled, looking around the room wildly as his breathing started to come in shorter and shorter gasps. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He repeated himself over and over as he scanned the room for threats. There was some threat here, he knew that there was, but he couldn’t see it. He wrapped his arms around himself and then released them to claw at his head once more.

“Dude, are you ... are you okay?” Derrick asked him.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

His palms were sweaty though, his hands trembling too.

“You ... don’t look fine man,” Derrick said warily, although he finally seemed to relax a little as the colour returned to his face. “Did you ... um ... take anything tonight man?”

“I’m fine.”

“You tripping? Or on pills?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

“Dude, I’ve done plenty of shit before, you can tell me, I’m not gonna judge. But I just think I need to know, you’re really not doing so well.”

Blake’s heart was racing, his breath was quickening, the room was spinning. He was going to have another panic attack, he could feel it.

“I’m fine!” he shouted, but then he caught sight of his reflection over Derrick’s shoulder again. “No, no, no,” he mumbled as he clutched at face once more.

Derrick looked at the mirror and then back at Blake again. “Dude there’s nothing wrong.”

“Can’t you see it?” Blake demanded in a despairing, frantic voice.

“See what?”

“Everything’s wrong!”

“You look a little wasted man ... that’s it.”

But Derrick’s voice was starting to fade away again as Blake’s reflection seemed to come alive once more, whispering insanity and poison.

“Disgusting,” Blake muttered.

“Dude! What the fuck man, you look fine. More than that you look fuckin hot!”

With that the reflection lost all interest and Blake rounded on Derrick.

“What did you say?” he asked, barely above a whisper, suddenly furious, his full attention on Derrick.

“What do you want me to say man?” Derrick asked, apparently heedless of the warning tone in Blake’s voice. “You look great! You’re tall, you’re twice as built as me, cut, toned, you don’t have an inch of fat on you, your face is perfect, your skin is perfect, your teeth are prefect, your hair is perfect. Your’re a fucking catwalk model, every chick in that room wants you and you’re blind to all of them and-”

He didn’t get to finish what he was saying though as the wind was pushed from his lungs by the force of Blake’s shove.

Furious, white-hot rage burst inside of Blake and he didn’t care that he shoved Derrick with more force than was called for. The hurt and pain was palpable in his chest, fuelling his rage. Rage at Derrick for drawing attention to his disgusting body. Rage at himself for being so shameful and sickening in the first place. He wanted to tear the flesh from his bones and burn it, wasn’t that enough for him? Couldn’t he leave him alone? Did he have to mock him as well? Blake had spent most of his life in gyms and dieting, it just didn’t work for him. Why did everyone have to remind him how badly he still looked? How badly he had failed?

“Shut up!” Blake roared, raising his fist. “Stop it!”

“Fuck man what are you doing?” Derrick asked, cowering against the mirror now, holding his arms across his face.

“Stop it!” Blake screamed again.

“Okay man, okay!”

Blake relaxed after that and Derrick quickly moved around him, holding his hands out in a placating fashion. He backed away until he felt the door of the bathroom behind him.

“You’re fucking schizo man,” Derrick muttered. “You’re fucked up. You’re fucking crazy.”

With that he fled the bathroom.

Blake knew that what he was saying was true and that only made it hurt even more. Instinctively he turned to the mirror again, but he could no longer see his reflection. Several dark cracks ran across the glass surface, moving out from a central point like a spider web.

His eyes darted around the room for an alternative, but when he found nothing else he was content to simply stand there breathing rapidly. He felt on the brink of a panic attack, but that feeling stayed for quite a few minutes without progressing. For some reason he was too exhausted or drunk to actually panic. Instead, the rapid breathing was starting to make him black out. He was going to faint, there was no air in here.

The relative silence of the bathroom was abruptly shattered by noise from the bar as someone entered the bathroom. Blake turned around to see someone he didn’t recognise give him a funny look before walking over to the urinal.

Blake fled the bathroom after that, pushing through the throngs of people jammed into the main room of the bar. The lights had gone down and the music was pumped up. There were disco lasers and a dance floor. Or at least he thought there was, he couldn’t be sure.

People everywhere were shouting and laughing and carrying on. Their faces flashed before Blake’s confused eyes like ghastly caricatures from some psychedelic cartoon. Everyone seemed to have two or more heads as his vision blurred, refusing to focus. He couldn’t tell if he recognised any of them, but he couldn’t even recognise the room anymore.

There seemed even less air to breathe in here than in the toilet, so Blake began to hasten his way through the crowd to find some way out.

He felt someone grabbing at him and at first he tried to push them away, but then he stopped for some reason and allowed whoever it was to direct him through the bar. He didn’t really care who it was anymore, he was too weak and his vision was swimming.

The next few minutes were even more confused as Blake felt himself black out for a bit once more. The next thing he became aware of was how great the ocean breeze on his face felt. His eyes rolled open and he could see now that he was outside. He was leaning against a wall, just around the corner from the outdoor area of the bar.

There was some kind of commotion going on and he wearily opened his eyes again to try to make out what was happening. The shadows of the darkness played havoc with his already faltering vision. His eyelids sagged heavily, making it even harder to tell.

Haze was there, and Patty and Derrick and some others as well.

“I’ll take him home,” he thought he heard Haze say and then he wondered whether they were talking about him.

Patty didn’t seem to like the sounds of what was being suggested. She seemed to want Derrick to do ‘it’. There was some yelling and arguing which Blake couldn’t properly make out.

“I’m not doing it!” Derrick protested savagely, pointing at Blake.

Blake cringed under the intensity of Derrick’s scornful expression, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. The shame and the misery he felt were palpable and he couldn’t bear to watch them argue over who had to get stuck looking after him. It hurt too much. He was feeling nauseas again.

Too weak to remain standing, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. He rested his head on his knees, buried his head under his arms and tried to hide his tears from the others.

The worst part was Derrick had every right to say what he was saying. It was the truth. Blake thought worse about himself on almost a daily basis, but now that everyone else thought it too the pain was too much to bear. He sobbed quietly to himself, tuning in and out of the conversation.

“.... but HAZE!” Patty seemed to shriek in protest.

“Leave him here!”

“Hey!”

“I’ll take him!”

“Why?”

Nats? Was she here too, he briefly wondered.

“No, I’ll do it!”

“No! Derrick! You take him!”

Blake blearily raised his head, heavy eyes struggling to remain open, to study the scene once more.

“I am not going anywhere with that fucking freak!” Derrick shouted, snarling in Blake’s direction.

What happened next was so sudden and confusing that Blake couldn’t comprehend it all that well. Haze had shoved Derrick, or maybe it had been the other way around first, it had happened so quickly. Half a second later the two were pushing and shoving back and forth giving murderous looks to each other as Matt and someone else tried to keep them apart. They shouted at each other too, but whatever they were saying it was drowned out by the yelling of others and Patty’s high pitched squawk.

The noise and commotion was giving Blake a headache, so he went back to resting his head on his knees and covering himself with his arms.

He wanted nothing more in the world just then than to be swallowed up by the earth beneath him, such was the disgust he felt towards his very being, the self-loathing and hatred. The others knew he was a freak now and, just as he had always feared, they wanted nothing more to do with him. They were even fighting about who had to get stuck with him. He couldn’t hold back the tears. He hurt so bad.

He must have blacked out again sometime after that, because the next thing he clearly remembered was being lifted to his feet by two people taking each of his arms. He opened his eyes a little, but he could only see his feet through the blurry vision and so he just closed them again, groaning.

He felt the support from one side disappear as someone else manoeuvred their arm around his waist. His own arm was lifted and then hung around the person’s neck.

“Sorry ...” he felt himself mumble automatically.

“Ya always sayin that,” came a gruff but not unkindly voice. He quickly recognised it was Haze.

He wanted to protest, ashamed at the trouble and embarrassment he must be causing Haze, of all people, but a sudden wave of nausea kept his mouth closed and his mind focused on not throwing up.

Another period of time passed without Blake really being aware of what had transpired. The next thing he knew he was looking at his feet again, but now someone else’s feet were right there too. They were stumbling down the street together, side by side.

He next became aware of the intimate body contact and despite how ill he felt, a thrill ran through him when he realised how close he was to Haze. Derrick was right though, it was so pathetic being in love with a straight guy.

“I’m sorry,” he blubbered out loud.

“It’s okay,” Haze told him.

But Blake knew that it wasn’t okay. Not really. If Haze knew what Blake was feeling right now he would probably drop him to the ground and run. He would be within his rights to as well. Blake felt that he deserved less. On top of everything else, he was being a disgusting perve towards Haze when Haze was doing nothing more than show him some kindness, a charity that he did not deserve.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop sayin that man.”

Blake couldn’t help but notice how good Haze felt right then, how firm and sinewy his shoulders were and how warm and comforting that arm around the waist.

“Sorry.”

“Blake!”

Blake felt a rush run through him at the sound of his name. They had seemed to stop walking, briefly. He felt Haze turn his head a bit, so that his mouth was closer to Blake’s ear.

“It’s okay Blake, everyone has a bit too much now and then.”

Blake nodded, not because he agreed with what Haze was saying, but because he didn’t want to burden Haze with an argument. He felt it would be too disrespectful to argue with him.

They started walking again, but Blake found that he couldn’t really recall much of the trip clearly. He couldn’t remember getting home, nor could he remember how they got in through the front door. He certainly had no idea how he came to be lying on his bed either, but he was very grateful for its soft comfortable feel.

He could easily have passed out at that point, but through the foggy, dizziness in his brain, he was aware of body contact. Someone was there with him, they were holding his hand. His eyes slowly blinked open and he found himself looking at Haze’s deep blue orbs. The light was still on in the room and Haze was sitting on a chair next to his bed.

“I’m ...” he started to speak, but was cut off.

“Sorry, yeah man I know, ya can stop sayin’ it.”

Blake cringed. Haze was right to dismiss his apologies, what good were they now?

“Derrick hates me ...” he moaned, sounding like a three-year-old complaining to his mother.

“Derrick’s a dick.”

“I pushed him.”

“I pushed him too.”

“I pushed him hard ... broke a mirror.”

Haze snorted at that and smiled a little. “Good on ya.”

As much as Blake enjoyed watching Haze’s beautiful face, especially when he smiled like that, he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. They fluttered closed.

“Haze?” he called out softly.

“Yeah man.”

“I’m crazy.”

“Ya aren’t crazy.”

“Yeah I am.”

“Everyone’s crazy.”

“I’m more crazy.”

“I dunno about that.”

“I do.”

“We’ll see.”

There was a pause for a moment, for how long Blake wasn’t sure. He was drifting in and out of consciousness now.

“Haze?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know man.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m ...”

Blake coughed. His throat was sore and he swallowed loudly and uncomfortably. There was the sound of movement and he felt the hand release its hold on his own.

“Here, drink this.”

He felt a straw at his lips. He sucked at it greedily for a bit, but then choked and coughed.

“Careful. Just sip.”

He tried again and this time he managed to drink until he heard the straw sucking air.

“Want more?”

He just shook his head, still unable to open his eyes.

Then he felt the warmth reappeared at his hand and he smiled. It was the only part of him that didn’t hurt right now.

“Haze?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks so much.”

“That’s okay.”

There was something about the way he said it that stopped Blake from arguing.

“Nats hates me.”

“Nats doesn’t hate ya.”

“She does.”

“No she doesn’t, she was worried about ya.”

“She hates me.”

“No one hates ya man. No one.”

“Everyone thinks I’m a freak.”

“No one thinks ya are a freak.”

“I am but.”

“No you’re not.”

There was another long pause after that. Blake wasn’t sure if he had drifted off or not. Maybe it had only been a second or maybe it had been a few minutes.

“Haze?”

“Yeah man, I’m here.”

“Patty ... you gotta go back to your girlfriend.”

Haze shifted uncomfortably, releasing Blake’s hand, as if suddenly conscious of it.

“She’s ... she’s okay.”

“But your Christmas present.”

“My what?”

“You gotta get your present.”

Blake couldn’t help it, his voice cracked and he sobbed a little.

“Shhh. Man ya aren’t making sense.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“So ya keep saying.”

“But I am.”

“And I know already.”

Again Blake felt it would be disrespectful to argue so he went silent for a moment.

“Haze?”

“Yeah man.”

“Thanks for looking after me.”

Haze snorted and there was a strange tone to his voice as he spoke next, one that Blake couldn’t really place. It was hesitant, sincere, but something else as well.

“I am ... happy to ... Blake.”

Blake felt a huge smile spread across his face, but he must have blacked out after that. The next time he opened his eyes there was light outside and he was alone.

The night out was over.