who ? caitlin carmichael and byron farro when ? (backdated to) late tuesday evening, 23rd august where ? bonfire! what ? dancing and kissing and very limited talking status ? complete
At Arran’s insistence that Byron should come with him and his friend to the bonfire, Byron had. Not because he particularly cared for bonfires but because he didn’t really have a reason to refuse. Despite Byron’s distinct inability to socialise, he had attended a fair few parties in his life. Byron liked parties. Not for the amount of times he had to awkwardly walk off when people drunkenly accused him of being rude (which actually wasn’t that often as drunk people didn’t really notice someone not responding to them) but because parties were pretty great for just blending in. Probably because people were drunk and happy. So Byron had gone to the bonfire because why not.
He’d been surprised to actually see people there he recognised, like Bethanie, who he had chatted to briefly as they both awkwardly shuffled towards the edge of where the fire reached. She had gone off to talk to someone else she recognised, leaving Byron in Arran’s company who had also then wandered off, either in a quest for more booze or more blankets or something, Byron wasn’t actually too sure. Byron didn’t really mind, this happened more often than he cared to remember. People just sort of shuffled around him, mostly not noticing he was there, which was just fine with him.
Having finished his second cup of drink, Byron decided that whoever was making the rum cocktails was evidently getting more and more drunk because the drinks kept getting stronger and stronger, he decided to see if he could find something different. With a new cup of drink and a slight feeling of tipsiness, Byron retreated nearer to where the music was playing, taking a seat on one of the blankets laid out as he watched a guy with a guitar attempt to match the music playing through a speaker.
--
Caitlin had been tipsy several drinks ago. She'd been trying not to drink too much and had resolved herself to just sipping a drink, but that had been just as good at getting her feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside as downing the cups would have done. It was a slower process, sure, but it worked the same way.
By the time it got dark, she was feeling a lovely little hum throughout her body and was enjoying the crisp air against her skin as she made her rounds. She said hello to all the people she recognized - and a far amount that she didn't - and found herself drawn to one particular face that wasn't familiar. He was handsome, unfairly so. Tall - even sitting - dark, and handsome. The booze in her belly made it much easier to approach super hot boys even if she didn't know them, so Caitlin made a beeline for pretty blanket boy and flashed him a wide smile as she positioned herself in front of the blanket where he sat.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Caitlin. Do you want to dance with me?" She supposed she should have waited for a response, but she reached out to take his hand, giving him little choice. Okay, that was a lie. He was very much capable of refusing on sheer size difference alone. If he didn't want to go, he could very well just make his weight work to his advantage. Still, she gave his hand a little tug. "Come on. It'll be fun."
--
Sometimes, not terribly often, but sometimes, at parties, there was enough alcohol in Byron’s system to allow him to relax enough to--well, not quite talk to girls, but something. Whatever that something was, essentially accounted for the whole of Byron’s sex life. He wasn’t great at conversing with girls (or literally anyone who was a stranger) but somehow that still didn’t stop at least some degree of human interaction. Alcohol consumed by both parties was usually a good start. Besides, Byron was aware that he wasn’t terrible looking. That was always what made girls approach him (because he sure as hell never approached them), but usually most of them deemed talking to him too much work and left.
Tonight, though, was not one of those sometimes. Byron was tipsy, sure, but he wasn’t so drunk that there wasn’t a sense of panic settling low in his stomach when the girl approached. Caitlin, she introduced herself and Byron almost looked away, but then she had taken his hand to drag him up (with what strength, was beyond him) in order to dance. Byron... didn’t really want to say no. She was cute. Pretty. And he was anxious. Still, Byron downed almost the whole of the drink left in his cup, shaking his head before getting up.
He could dance. This would be fine. Maybe if they danced close enough to the music it’d be too loud for her to really notice that he was yet to give her his name. So Byron followed Caitlin towards the music, moving them slightly closer than where she had originally stopped, before turning her to face him, hand settling on her waist, his other holding hers still where she had first taken it.
--
Caitlin didn't really notice that he hadn't spoken, too focused on the way his hand felt in hers. Warm and solid. Big. She supposed that was to be expected. Nearly everyone's hands were bigger than hers. She shucked that thought away pretty quickly, though, because he was agreeable enough to actually get up from the blanket and follow along after her closer to the music and to one another.
The way he stepped in, hand coming to rest on her hip, was almost as intoxicating as the drink she ditched somewhere along the way to where they stood now. She looked up at him, flashing him another wide and bright smile. "You're really tall," she said before she could stop herself. "And really, really cute." Cute wasn't a good enough word for it, really, but she couldn't be bothered to think of something more appropriate.
She probably should have asked his name or something like that, but she was too focused on the warmth coming off of his body to really be able to think much at all. "And warm," she added after a moment, stepping in a little closer.
--
Byron couldn’t help but swallow a laugh when Caitlin informed him that he was really tall. It was true, Byron was tall, but he also suspected that in contrast to her, most people were. Still, there was something oddly endearing in the way she said it, especially with the follow up of him being really, really cute, which did make him chuckle. She didn’t seem drunk, no more drunk than he was, at least, which made it rather more amusing. Byron had experienced plenty of girls assure him he was good looking, but those tended to usually sound a lot more like come-ons than they did as... statements. Which is what Caitlin’s words sounded like.
It was sweet, Byron decided. Sweet enough that when she told him he was also warm and moved in closer, Byron’s hand tightened on her waist, pulling her in closer, moving slowly to the music as he smiled down at her. The almost full cup of drink he had downed had somewhat eased the feeling of anxiety he had had, but it hadn’t quite gotten there enough to make Byron feel like he could talk to her. Sometimes, Byron was sure, the idea of talking to someone was what stopped him from talking to them, rather than any inherent inability to form words. There were plenty of things he could’ve asked her. Small talk. General questions. Byron knew all that, and yet the actual saying of them was... difficult.
Instead, Byron let go of where he held her hand, bringing it over to sit on her other side, thumb slowly rubbing against the material of her shirt there. As much as Caitlin had told him he was warm, so was she. Her body felt nice against his, and Byron couldn’t help but bring one of his hands up, to run fingers over her cheek softly. He might have been shit at words, but he was acceptable levels okay with physical contact.
--
It probably should have been unusual that he wasn't talking, but Caitlin was distracted by the way that he looked at her and the way that he smiled. She memorized the way his lips curled up, maybe just a little further on one side than the other. It was a lovely smile, really. One she quite liked looking at. She also quite liked the way that he let his hands rest against her waist, his fingertips moving gently against the fabric of her shirt. The warmth of his touch, even through the cloth, was very nice and she almost made a noise of disapproval when he pulled one hand away, at least until it met her cheek.
She hummed appreciatively instead and leaned into his touch. Yes, that was nice. He could keep doing that. "No fair," she told him, smiling despite her words. "I don't know your name yet, you shouldn't be able to give me goosebumps already." She lifted one arm to show him the effect the contrast of the cool air and his warm touch had on her skin, then laughed a little. "So, are you going to tell me your name, or should I start with the charades? I'm terrible at charades, just so you know. You'll probably get me guessing the most awful things that no one should name their child," she teased.
--
If Byron had had the courage to talk to her, or to attempt, or to anything, he would have pointed out that she had been the one to say that it was cold, so he really was not in a position to take all the credit for any goosebumps she might be experiencing. Except he didn’t say any of that, and instead frowned slightly when Caitlin asked him if she was to guess his name. She shouldn’t have to, but even the idea of speaking up made Byron pause uncomfortably. It was stupid, he knew that. But at the same time there was almost a barrier somewhere between his mind and his tongue and words were just... not forthcoming. It had always reminded Byron of his dad’s efforts at teaching him Italian. Byron knew all the words and yet when it came to speaking them they just disappeared from his memory. This was only marginally different.
It would’ve been great if Caitlin could’ve just been able to read Byron’s mind, they could’ve made the whole thing much quicker and easier. And yet, if it wasn’t for the alcohol, Byron wasn’t sure they would’ve even gotten this far, with Caitlin pressed so close against him, Byron’s fingertips brushing softly against her cheek as she offered charades. Sooner or later, Byron knew, Caitlin was going to grow tired of the fact that he really wasn’t replying and then she’d walk off and Byron would feel awful because she seemed so sweet. So he did the most practical thing he could think of, and kissed her.
--
The frown caused her some pause and a tiny bit of concern. Maybe he couldn't talk. For all Caitlin knew, the guy was mute and couldn't speak. That thought made her worry that she'd been somewhat insensitive by just assuming that he could tell her his name. It was true that she'd never actually met someone that couldn't speak, but that didn't mean that they didn't exist and Byron could very well be one such case. Even so, Caitlin figured he'd say his name, but she certainly hadn't expected him to kiss her.
She blinked in a bit of surprise, but was quickly distracted by the feel of his lips. Far too soft and welcoming to be ignored. She forgot her plight to find out his name and focused instead on the kiss. Her arms twined around his neck and she raised herself up on her tiptoes to make the whole thing a little easier for him and a little less straining. When the kiss broke, she sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. "Or I can just call you "wow" because that totally works for me."
--
It was easy to feel the way Caitlin tiptoed upwards to meet his lips easier and it made Byron smile onto the kiss, he let his hand run down from her cheek, back of his fingers softly touching her neck as his hand moved lower to return to where it had been on her waist originally. With a soft grip, Byron pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss as he did so. She tasted like rum and oddly also like fire, but Byron was hardly going to complain about either (for a multitude of reasons), especially not when the kiss was so sweet and her body was so warm against his.
When they pulled apart it wasn’t for a great deal of distance as he could practically feel her breath against his lips as she spoke. The words made him chuckle lightly and Byron knew the alcohol must’ve finally be properly kicking in as a warmth spread down his body. Partially, he was sure, it was to do with the kiss, but he was hardly going to ascribe it all to her, not when alcohol also deserved its abilities recognised. “Byron,” he said softly, barely audibly, but also so glad he could. It was probably very rude to just go around kissing girls and not even offer them your name (though, he had done so previously).
--
A fire warmed through her insides that probably had more to do with his kiss than the liquor, but she really wasn't bothering much to weigh which was which. They were both nice and warm and sent a heat radiating through her that she was quite fond of already. She certainly wouldn't find herself objecting to more rum or more kisses though she was sure she quite preferred the latter if given the choice.
His laugh was a lovely sound, but so was his voice when he finally did speak. It was quiet, barely a breath above a whisper, but it was lovely. Maybe even a little mysterious. She didn't mind if he didn't say anything else because now she had a name and that was plenty substantial for now. "Byron," she murmured. "That's very nice." It was a good name. Fitting, she thought. He looked like a Byron. Satisfied with the name, she smiled up at him. "So, Byron, are you going to kiss me again because that would really be very nice."
--
Byron didn’t really think his name was very nice, but he was hardly about to tell her that. Even if he hadn’t felt like there was a mammoth sized bundle of nerves low in his stomach at having (only) told her his name, the way Caitlin smiled up at him would have been a distraction enough. She was lovely, both pretty and cute, and the way she seemed to just talk at him was both relaxing and amusing to Byron. Her suggestion that more kissing would really be quite nice made Byron smirk a little at her, his hand giving a squeeze to her hip where, where it had slid down to rest without him even really noticing.
Caitlin was right, though ,in that the kissing would be really very nice, so Byron did as instructed, lips softly brushing against hers, hand tightening to pull her body in closer. The kiss was soft, kind of blending in with their surroundings of light music and soft wind. It was nice. Byron did assume that at least part of it was drunkenness, probably for both of them, but it didn’t really make it any less nice. She was soft beneath his hands, where they gripped her tighter. When he finally did pull back, Byron felt like he had to pause for breath.
Letting one of his hands drop down, Byron took Caitlin’s hand, letting their fingers twine together, before he glanced over at where the bonfire was. Byron was pretty sure he needed another drink but abandoning Caitlin seemed... unappealing. There was also a wish within Byron to pull her further away from the music to hear her better (which was ironic since that was the opposite of why he had made sure they were so close to it). He wanted to talk to her, but that was going to be highly unlikely. Still, Byron did tug on her hand a little, giving another glance towards the fire.
--
She thought it was nice. She thought that it sounded very sweet and at the same time very mysterious, quite like the man himself. It was hard not to be intrigued by him. Sure, she would like to know more about him than his name or that he was very handsome and a very good kisser, but she was too busy smiling up at him to really bother with a lot of questions about much of anything.
It didn't much matter if she had come up with things to ask, though, because he kissed her again and she lost herself in that. Any questions that she had flittered away, taking flight like the little embers that the bonfire had been giving off all evening. Caitlin focused entirely on the way that Byron's lips felt against hers, the warmth that he gave off. Maybe she wouldn't have been kissing someone she had only just met if not for the liquid courage she'd consumed, but she couldn't really find any concern about that either. She was happy to be kissing Byron and as long as he was going to return it, she was going to keep kissing him.
She felt breathless when he pulled away and very nearly leaned after him to chase the taste of drink from his lips and that softness that lay beneath it. She smiled when he took her hand — yes, she could get used to that — and let her eyes follow his to the bonfire where he seemed to want to go. She didn't even seem to mind that he still wasn't speaking much. Caitlin decided that maybe he didn't like to talk, not that he couldn't. So, she accepted that thought and his invitation to move towards the fire and went willingly with Byron in that direction.
--
When she did come willingly, Byron smiled. He would have hardly argued if Caitlin had wanted to stay and dance and kiss more (though, he did feel that they could probably do at least the latter anyway), but it was nice that she didn’t. Instead, he led them both towards the fire, where there was a table with drinks and nearby a city made of sand. Byron had to give it to whoever was organising this thing, they were doing a pretty great job. He filled a cup of drink for himself, before passing the empty cups over to Caitlin, letting her sort her own drink out. Byron suspected that it was not the smartest of things for her to do to let him mix her drink. Not because he was going to do anything to it, but because she really didn’t know him.
With both of them having acquired refilled cups, Byron took a sip of his, glancing around. There were discarded blankets near the fire and a few couples here and there, with one boy very determinedly poking the fire as his boyfriend seemed to watch mostly in amusement. Picking one of the blankets not in near proximity to anyone, but still close enough to the fire, Byron led Caitlin over to it, so they could take a seat. Once comfortable, he gave her a small smile, before bumping his glass against hers in a mock-cheers.
--
Caitlin took the offered cup, finding it sweet that he didn't make a drink for her. She didn't really know him, after all, and though he was a friend of someone invited to the party, that didn't mean he wasn't a loon. She didn't think he was, but just in case, the gesture was still sweet. She filled her cup, this time with more juice than liquor and once she'd done that, she turned her attention back to him, taking a sip from her cup and watching him closely.
She followed him over to the blanket he spotted by the fire and settled down on it with him, grinning as he bumped the glass against hers. "Cheers," she murmured, taking another sip. Her attention flicked to Evan and his poking of the fire and she laughed a little. "Evan," she commented softly, nodding in his direction. "If I'd left it up to him, the fire would be three times as big," she smirked.
--
Byron was quite sure he didn’t recognise the boy, Evan, who seemed very interested in the fire, but now that he watched them more, he was sure he recognised the other one, Andrew. He was in Toby’s brother’s band, Byron thought. Drummer. As in confirmation, he tapped a pattern lightly against Caitlin’s leg. Byron wasn’t very good at drums past recognising the rhythm. Drums to him had always seemed too loud and too aggressive as an instrument he could engage with, but that was not to say that he didn’t find them fascinating to listen to. Byron was just better at more lyrical instruments, like his keyboard, or at times a guitar.
Turning slightly so he could look at Caitlin better, rather than the fire, he brought his hand up, fingers brushing over her cheek, easier to do now that their faces were more at the same level than when they were standing. He wanted to tell her that she was cute, too, the way she had told him. Because she was. Byron hoped, though, that perhaps the soft touches would do the job for him, they had so far, which was pleasing. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, Byron gave her a soft smile. Reaching for his cup, Byron took a sip, the alcohol in it burning its way down his throat beautifully. The drink was much stronger than it really should have been and it would still probably take many more before Byron would be too drunk to feel the anxious ball in his stomach, but it helped.
He thought about what people, people who were better at talking in these sort of situations, would ask. Maybe what she did or what she liked, things that Byron had heard other people ask before. The heat from the fire, from the alcohol and from her made him feel more content, though. “Do you--” He started and the words caught in his throat, burning far more unpleasantly than the alcohol had. “Like fire?” That wasn’t quite any of the things he had thought of saying, but it wasn’t... nothing? It was ridiculous was what it was, but it wasn’t nothing.
--
The goosebumps returned when he drummed his fingers against her leg and Caitlin bit her lower lip through a little smile. She didn't really care why he was touching her leg but was pleased that he was and decidedly distracted by that touch.
Then he was touching her face and she was smiling again, cheeks warm from the fire but also from the flush that was hard to fight off when he was so close. She found it difficult not to kiss him again, but she managed to just keep smiling at him as he brushed her hair behind her ear. She was distracted again by his smile, but especially by his eyes and the way that the edges crinkled every time he grinned. When he took a sip of his drink, she lifted her own to do the same.
When he spoke, he caught her by surprise. She'd gotten used to the quiet, she supposed. The few words he gave her were enough to start a conversation, though. One that spilled out effortlessly on her part at least. "Yes," she said. "It's a really lovely fire. I helped start it. I'm no fire-bug like Evan, though," she admitted. "I'd never started a fire before tonight," she laughed. "That's why this whole thing sort of started, I guess. Evan said that I should definitely light something on fire and this came out of that conversation and now it's, well, massive," she laughed. "But not as big as a house. Luckily."
--
Byron didn’t really get it. He had no idea how anyone could take such a small comment and give so much in response to it. Of course, he had reasons for admiring anyone who could do that, but it always impressed him. Byron wasn’t stupid, he knew that there were plenty of people out there who just... talked. Chatty people. It had been years now since Byron had felt jealousy towards them, mostly because it was just exhausting. It was exhausting to be envious of people for something they couldn’t help, something they most likely didn’t choose to be. No more than he chose to be unable to speak (though, perhaps that was debatable, since Byron had been told plenty that shyness was a choice he made, no matter how much it didn’t feel like a choice).
Watching Caitlin talk was about as interesting, if not more, as what she was actually saying. There seemed to be so much energy within her that it was actually entertaining to watch her explain her lack of fire-starter knowledge as having been the reason for the bonfire. It was a peculiar thing for a friend to do for you, but nonetheless sweet, Byron thought. Byron imagined that Caitlin probably had a lot of friends who wanted to do things for her, she seemed very friendly, even if he was mostly judging it on the fact that she was still there, talking at him, agreeable in letting him run his fingers over any exposed skin. The way his fingers left a trail of goosebumps across her arm was most fascinating.
Leaning upwards, Byron pressed a soft kiss against her jaw, an arm coming to wrap around her so he could draw her in closer as they slid lower on the blanket.
--
Caitlin could talk to the wind — and she often did — so it wouldn't be the first time that Byron would say a simple question or a phrase and get her rambling on forever about nothing in particular. Rambling was Caitlin's specialty. She'd been that way as long as she could remember and was certain that she'd said her first word as a toddler and never looked back — or shut up — since then.
It was strange, she figured, that Evan had wanted to help her light something on fire, but strange was a good description of Evan, most of the time. It was why she liked him. He was unapologetically real. He didn't pretend to be something he wasn't and really didn't give a damn if you didn't like him or what he was about. And he played chess and liked maths so who could really dislike someone like that? Not Caitlin. Evan, though, wasn't really on her mind much when Byron kissed her jaw and slipped his arm around her shoulder. No, she was thinking of everything but Evan.
She curled into him easily, liking the way that she fit so effortlessly in the crook beneath his arm. It was easy to get lost in his warmth and in the affection in the tingling buzz of her drink. "You smell nice," she found herself saying, then laughed. "And boom, I'm a total weirdo," she went on, laughing again and taking another sip of her drink.
--
Caitlin’s comment made Byron laugh. He was sure that at this point, he mostly just smelled like fire. She did. Fire and a tint of perfume. It was nice. Byron wasn’t too sure whether the comment made her a weirdo at all, it mostly just seemed like a statement of fact. It was certainly preferred over smelling, well, not nice. In response, he very demonstratively stuck his nose against her neck, breathing in. She did smell nice. In confirmation of the fact, Byron pressed a kiss against the skin there, but then got somewhat distracted by offering more soft kisses. Her skin had a taste of salt, which Byron assumed was mostly from their near proximity to the sea, but it was hardly unpleasant.
Byron’s free hand, the one that didn’t have its fingers preoccupied by being tangled in Caitlin’s hair, brushed over her side, seeking out the bare skin where her shirt rode up and away from the shorts she was wearing. His touches were light, but he hoped not ticklish, if nothing else, the alcohol probably helped with that, too. It wasn’t inappropriate, Byron thought, but perhaps with a light source other than fire, he wouldn’t have been as daring to touch her so intimately in a public place. Not that the touches were too much, they were hardly going to break any laws like this, but it certainly helped that there weren’t, as far as Byron could tell, any eyes on them either.
She was sweet and cute and the temptation to kiss her was rather great. So he did, because there wasn’t much stopping him, since Caitlin certainly didn’t seem very put-off by the attempts. He licked into her mouth softly, catching her lower lip between his teeth, the bite about as gentle as his fingers were against her skin.
--
She liked the way that his laugh sounded. Free and warm and light. It was almost as nice as the feel of him and Caitlin was sure that if she had to choose which she liked better she'd be unable to make the decision. His nose against her skin made her bite her lip and worry a little over how she might smell. He didn't seem to mind, though, especially seeing as he kissed her there on her neck and sent a wave of goosebumps over her skin once more. It was unfair, she decided, terribly unfair. She tilted her head a little to make his touches more welcome, humming softly, approvingly, as his lips distracted her from the surroundings.
Caitlin was overwhelmed by the touches, unsure of which to focus on more and finding it difficult to not be completely wrapped up in every little shift of his fingertips against her skin or his lips pressed to her neck. Maybe if it were bright out she wouldn't be so wrapped up in him. Maybe if there wasn't a warm weight of booze in her belly she wouldn't be so close and so inviting. She was happy with the darkness and with that fuzzy feeling inside of her because those kisses were appreciated and eagerly accepted.
She wasn't put-off by his kisses or by his presence or by anything that he'd said — not that he'd said a great deal — and was taken by him in a way that she couldn't quite comprehend. She wasn't sure if they had anything in common or what his last name was or much about him at all. She had a name, a laugh, and a scent and that seemed to be enough for now.
Then he nipped her lower lip and an electricity sparked through her, setting her nerve endings on fire. The little gasp that came out was certainly not one of disapproval and the hint of a smile danced at the corners of her mouth. Lifting a hand, she slid her fingertips over his cheek and returned the kiss, humming against his mouth.
--
The noise Caitlin made in response to the kiss, and presumably the touches, was oddly delightful. More so than Byron would have necessarily anticipated. It also made him really want to make that happen again and more. Except that perhaps, that would definitely cross the boundary of publically acceptable. Still, he did deepen the kiss, slow and careful, mixed in with a slightly more need. Her body pulled in against his felt warm and lovely, even if the closeness and the alcohol was somewhere at the back of Byron’s mind telling him it would be even warmer and lovelier if there was less clothing between them. He had no real intention to change that, though, not when this felt quite plenty.
As he kissed her, though, his fingers did slip under her shirt, but only barely, as fingertips graced over the skin there. Byron had probably far too much experience at filling silences with kisses and touches, when it came to girls he met at parties. Usually, though, the girls Byron ended up with were pushier, louder, more demanding, which was how he ended up with them. But Caitlin wasn’t that. Not really. She certainly had asked him to dance, but that wasn’t really the same.
Byron had no idea how much time they lost to just kissing, but he suspected it was a fair bit. Not that he objected at all. It was nice. And then, somewhere in the distance, someone called out Caitlin’s name and Byron pulled back, giving her a soft smile, before adding a nod towards the direction from which the searching voice had come. He didn’t want to keep her, not when it was her party and evidently someone was looking for her, so he pulled back a bit, half-urging and half-expecting her to go and find out whoever was looking for her.
--
It was easy to get lost in his embrace and in those kisses and Caitlin did get lost. She was so wrapped up in the warmth coming off of him that she scarcely noticed the sound of someone calling her name until he pulled back from the kiss and nodded in the direction that the voice had come from. She blinked a little, biting her lower lip and warring with herself and what she wanted to do. She wanted to stay right where she was and just keep kissing him, but she knew that would be rude to whoever was looking for her.
She worried for a moment that she might lose him in the crowd and she had no idea of how to contact him again if that were to happen. A first name could get her at least a little way if she started asking those who attended the party, but it wouldn't be enough to really send him an owl or anything. Or enough to ask to see him again if he disappeared into the night once the buzz wore off.
"Will you be here when I get back?," she asked him. Perhaps a yes or no question would make things a little easier at least on the communication front.
--
The question made Byron’s smile widen, as it very much came with the implication that she would like him to be. So Byron nodded in confirmation, every intention to stay and wait for her to return. He kissed her again, briefly, before she departed to find out who, and presumably why, was looking for her. Watching her go, Byron smiled again. She was nice and the kissing was nice and he really quite liked the idea of carrying on with that. Except then she was no longer there and Byron frowned. He had promised (sort of) to stay but now that she wasn’t there to make him forget about how he felt anxious, Byron’s self-awareness returned tenfold. The alcohol suddenly being more of a foe than a friend.
Unless he got more drunk, which in turn would probably make him forget the whole ordeal, Byron didn’t think he’d be much more able to talk to Caitlin than he had been so far. And the kissing had been nice, but Byron doubted it was nice enough to have her put up with him having said five words to her in what must have been at least an hour by now. It was going to get tedious and boring and she was going to get annoyed at him and Byron... didn’t want that.
So obviously, the best solution to this potential result was to leave before she got back. It was hardly as if Arran wouldn’t have presumed that Byron would just leave, so he didn’t have to go and look for his friend. Instead, Byron just apparated home. And if he then had a marginal panic attack over the stupid choices he made, well, then that was neither here nor there.