zack’s movement is anything but sober, he was slightly stumbling on the way to the bathroom. yet — despite this, alongside the loud music which was drowning him, he could see what bryson was doing very clearly. the phone on his hand falls out of his hands, as though the sight of brysons action were capable of having his nerves lose grip. “what the hell is going on bryson?” he questions, an unfamiliar sense of anger in the tone of his voice. he was angry, furious even. holding onto the nearest door, he squints his eyes, ignoring whatever words were departing from the other’s lips. “shit, bryson! i don’t even— i need to go,” he responds, his words speaking before they even got the opportunity to think logically. allowing his body to move, he begins walking outside, not particular knowing where to walk (despite knowing well that he was certainly far from in an appropriate state to drive home) but he didn’t want to see bryson at that moment.
his reality halted and shattered beneath his feet onto the shit stained floor. the one chance to make a friend and bryson blew it. “zack, no ━━━ i swear i can explain.” he seized the materials off the grimy sink and shoved everything into his knapsack. he didnt care if several empty needles spilled onto the ground because they only added to the growing pile. everything blurred and moved by too fast to tell if the bottled up maroon was blood or heroin. it didn’t matter, nothing really mattered until he found zack, until he hesitated, gripping onto the doorknob. his mind was spinning with alcohol and delirium. letting zack think was just some god damn junkie would protect the truth. it would maintain his lowlife reputation, and bryson could probably let it stand. it would risk getting fired if word got out, but he was already a scapegoat to the managers. although lying was becoming difficult. it would be another god damn lie. eventually all his lies would pile up like the needles on the tile and then what? what would bryson do if it all became too much?
his grip tightened around the dull metal and he gritted his teeth. “grow a pair and tell him the truth.” despite the unwelcoming stench of sweat and booze, bryson snaked through the crowd of drunken motorcycle gangs and out the door. “zack!” he called after the boy upon seeing his spiky haired silhouette stumble forward. “i swear that it wasn’t what you thought it was. i know you’re drunk and i know you don’t believe me but i can show you.” fumbling for the front pocket, he pulled out the small vial of his hormones. rushing toward him, bryson shoved the label in his face so his glossy eyes could see. “can you read this? can you read what this says?"
