Title Track

My throat is burning. Too much alcohol is not enough alcohol.

“Bren,” Spencer says, placing a hand on my shoulder, “Bren, I think you’ve had enough.”

I snort, bringing the glass to my mouth. “Spencer, my life has been absolute shit this past week. I am going to drink until I pass out.”

He sighs, and nods, and takes a drink of his beer, and turns to the stage behind us, where a local band of teenagers is playing shitty music with the bass too loud and the vocal mics too low.

“So what exactly happened with this guy?” Spencer hums into his bottle. I chuckle into my glass, take a drink, and hang my head.

“He left. Basically. That’s the short version. He was there one day, and gone the next. Didn’t speak to him for three years, he shows up out of nowhere, throws up on my shoes, and expects things to be okay. He left. That’s what happened.” I bite my tongue, avoiding Pandora’s box of bad relationships, and Spencer nods.

“He sounds like a dick.” He says casually. I smirk, nodding lazily.

“A little.”

There’s a fairly long silence before anything is said. It doesn’t feel tense or awkward. Or, not to me, at least. I’m too fucked up to care about awkward silences.

“I’m gonna’ take a piss. Will you be alright by yourself?” He asks, getting to his feet. I roll my eyes.

“I’m drunk, Spencer. Not suicidal. Even if I were, what would I be able to do in the time that you’re pissing? Drown in liquor?”

He shrugs, pats my back, and walks towards the bathroom. I laugh a little, staring at my hands, folded together on the dirty bar top.

“Hey, handsome!” A loud voices echoes in my ears. I wrinkle my nose and turn to see a blond girl in a pencil skirt and dress shirt. Her hair looks fake, her face is too round, and who wears a dress shirt and pencil skirt to a club? She’s already pissing me off.

I nod at her, taking another drink. If I’ve got a mouth full of liquor I don’t have to speak.

“Cool, band, huh?” She’s smiling, and way too bubbly, and no, this is not a cool band.

“Not really, no.” I’m not being a dick, I’m being honest. But, it seems she disagrees by the frown on her face.

“Well, since they’re so bad, how about you buy me a drink so I can drown out the noise?”

“You’re wasting your time, Z.” I look over my other shoulder and frown. The girl, Z, looks just as displeased as I do.

“Mind your own fucking business, Ryan. I’m done speaking to you, you jackass.”

And suddenly, I like this girl a lot more.

“Fuck off, Z. He’s not interested.”

“Go to hell, Ryan.” She hisses and stomps off. Ryan takes a seat next to me, and holy shit, where the fuck is Spencer? It shouldn’t take this long to piss.

“Brendon,” He says quietly, which means he’s close enough for me to hear him, and I just want to go home now. He’s even ruining getting fucked up for me. “I really need to talk to you.”

“I told you I’d think about it, Ryan.”

I see him frown from the corner of my eye, his facial features soft, but he still looks so tired.

“I just want to talk, Bren.”

“Don’t call me Bren. We’re not friends.” I’m staring at the cup of melting ice in my hands. I don’t want to look at him. He sighs, and I can feel his breath hit my arms. It scares me that he still gives me goosebumps.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Brendon.”

“Congrats.”

“Fuck, Brendon,” He sighs, it’s a deep breath, and he sounds stressed, “I just want to talk.”

“You mentioned that.”

“I regret a lot of shit.” He whispers. It’s so hard to hear over the shitty background music, but I hear it.

“Not as much as I do.” I mumble, drinking down the bitter melted ice and liquor. And then there’s a hand on my face. I’m panicking. He’s running his fingers across my cheeks, and it feels like too much. “Don’t,” I pull away, he flinches, and he looks kind of scared. “Just don’t. Don’t act like we’re cool with each other, Ryan. Because we’re not. If you want to talk, then talk. Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Can we-- can we go talk outside? I just… I really need to talk to you.”

I look at him. My throat burns, and my mouth hurts, and my stomach is turning, and our faces are too close, and it could be the alcohol, or it could be the sexual tension, but I say yes.