|Drew Summers (summers_here) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-08-24 01:05:00
|Entry tags:||dean thomas, drew summers|
Who: Drew & Dean
When: Saturday night
Where: Seedy Nightclub Number 5
What: Drunk, dancing and quietly despairing
It wasn't like Drew to do things like this.
Well, it hadn't been like Drew to do things like this, but that was in the days before, where he didn't have to use Pepper Up to stay awake or Dreamless to fall asleep or have what appeared to be a genuine inability to keep his legs closed.
He'd been kicked out of the last place he'd been drinking in (pub, club... someone's house? he couldn't really recall anymore) because he'd been caught with his back up against the wall getting hammered and loudly by some bulky unknown who hadn't even had the courtesy to get him off before leaving.
Oh well. There was always the next club which had plenty of other guys, and drinks and music so loud and heavy it could change the beat of your heart to suit the tune. It wasn't a gay club but slutty was slutty and Drew tended to blur the lines for a few people anyway. He was high on something - probably not 'life' - and almost too drunk to see straight, but as long as he could remain upright he could still dance, and while he could dance he could, well...
He wasn't being paid to get up on one of the tables and strip like a five-quid hooker, but he did it anyway. And all the while, as he laughed and the clothes came off and the bouncers realised and started making their way towards him, all the while he ruthlessly pushed back that little part of him, almost dead, that whimpered at what he was doing, that just wanted to go home to Ozzie, curl up in the boy's arms and cry.