Peter Vanderbilt sighed as he adjusted his tie in the mirror, the frustration simmering just beneath his polished exterior. The gallery had been buzzing with activity- art shows, meeting with clients, and endless hours of networking. But beneath the surface of his carefully curated life, an emptiness gnawed at him.
it had been months (perhaps even years) since he’d been with anyone. His bed felt colder each night, a constant reminded of the disconnect between who he was and who his parents expected him to be. Who he had to pretend to be. His parents, high society fixtures, still had no idea about his true self. They saw the successful art dealer, the perfect son, but Peter had become an expert at hiding the loneliness that came with leading a double life.
Tonight, he couldn’t bear the silence of his own company any longer. He needed to get out, tofeel something other than the weight of his secret. A drink-or several- seemed like the best solution. Maybe the blur of alcohol would dull the ache for a while, help him forget the nagging frustration that had built up inside him.
he found himself at a bar on the edge of town, far from the galleries and people who knew him. The dim lighting and pulsing music provided the anonymity he craved. Peter ordered a whiskey (his favorite drink), downing it quickly before signaling for another, searching for some kind of distraction inside the room.
And then he saw them, someone sitting alone at the bar - looking just as lost as Peter felt. On impulse, Peter grabbed his drink and made his way over, nerves tingling with a mix of excitement and desperation.
“Mind if I join you?” Peter asked. Peter slid onto the stool next to them, feeling a rush of relief at the brief connection. He raised his glass, offering a toast. “To drowning our sorrows together.” But then his smile faltered. “Sorry, I didn’t want to assume-” He stated quickly. “You just seemed a bit lost that's all.”
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