"Piss off," he said sourly. That was enough. He was done. "I'm going back to my house. I hope you pass out on the beach and the tide carries you away." Or something. Something awful and horrible.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and stared at Scorpius. This wasn't how he saw this ending. Not in some strange pub. He saw them ending years and years and years in the future when they were both old and grey and had a lifetime of memories to fall back on at the end.
Not like this.
He had to leave. Hugo could feel his throat closing up. He didn't cry, but he knew if he tried to speak he'd squeak.