Noah Pierce (ex_quarterba830) wrote in halcyon_halls, @ 2008-11-18 00:30:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | james, noah |
Week Twenty-Two: Monday
Who: Noah and James
Where: Bar down in the city
When: Monday night
Alcohol... well it didn't seem to solve any problems. However it did a damn good job of blurring the fact that problems did in fact exist. That was really all that Noah was aiming for at the moment. A deep seeded desire to... well fuck what did he exactly wish? That he'd never said anything to Natalia? That he'd done something a hell of a long time ago... Honestly Noah wasn't sure. Was there a better option? Well logically speaking growing a pair of balls and getting over his own set of issues a hell of a lot earlier was the better decision but logic rarely seemed to play a role in Noah's thinking.
Instead, he was torn between just wishing he'd managed to keep his stupid mouth shut and between wishing he'd never been so damn pig headed to begin with. Problem was it didn't seem to matter what he wished because none of that changed his current predicament. You know that situation where his best friend and the woman he knew he loved really didn't want to go that particular route with him. Instead she was shacking up with some guy just down the hall.
It really didn't work so well for Noah with the full moon the next day. It was kind of like ripping open some wound and dumping a bottle of salt in it and giving it a good rub. Well maybe not quite like that but his temper was already on edge and the last thing he needed was the accidental run in in the hallway. He'd pass thanks.
So like every day that weekend and the vast majority of the week before Noah had his ass parked on a bar stool. Big ass bowl of peanuts in front of him as requested and begrudgingly provided by the bartender, a beer and Noah was as... well he was just staying there regardless of how he felt. It included ignoring that itch that went through his every muscle with the pull of the moon.
"'Nother one..." Noah said pushing his empty bottle toward the bartender who gave that look that said he didn't really want to get Noah another but seeing as how he didn't appear overly intoxicated there wasn't much he could do. Probably had more to do with the fact that Noah was running low on funds and therefore a shitty tipper. Yeah life was a bitch whatever.
Something pricked at the back of his senses. A familiar... scent or annoyance or something. Noah rolled his shoulders trying to shake it off. Had to be the moon.