a certain type ; gideon & sebastian
"YOU COME HERE ALL THE TIME?”
Gideon had to shout to be heard over the music which was, frankly, deafening. That wouldn’t normally be a problem for Gideon, and his proclivity for nighttimes stolen away in the throbbing basement of clubs - and their acoustically generous bathrooms – and crowded pubs. Not to mention the fact that he’d grown up in a big, loud family who was growing in numbers and volume every year.
The louder and the livelier, the better as far as he was concerned!
But this place was...on another level. It was less crowded than it seemed, every free inch of air packed with sound waves of pure directionless noise, carrying on in one indiscriminate, repetitive beat. Clusters of people grouped together; some in shining, sparkling slub attire and others dressed down in that effortless, plain way where nothing matched and nothing looked quite like it’d been worn before, that made it clear they had money.
A bar made up one entire half of the room; the rest was littered with pockets of dance floor and clusters of couches, seemingly with no rhyme or reason.
Sebastian had offered to take Gideon out for a drink ‘somewhere unforgettable,’ to be sure. And Gideon didn’t know what he’d expected! Only that it wasn’t...this.
“They do serve alcohol here, right?” he called, plugging one eardrum with a finger. “It’s not so fancy that they’ve cut that out of the equation?” — @sebastian-whoisleft
