Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

Vic sat in the corner of the room, his bare legs sticking to the faux leather of the cream sofa he sat in, clearly uncomfortable but trying to fake it. He had a bottle of beer, cold and mostly full, condensation dripped onto his shorts as he held it awkwardly. He tried to pay attention to the conversation Mikey, Gabe and Rian were having about drums next to him, but he couldn’t get himself to commit, only grasping at fragments of their terminology. He was way too busy to even pretend to give a damn, staring ahead at Kellin and Katelyn who were standing with beers in hand, chatting to several people. Alex, their host, was standing there, cracking jokes loudly, his voice screeching over everyone else’s, but he also seemed incredibly muted as Vic tried to hone in on what Kellin was saying. His lips barely moved, he was slightly tense and frigid standing next to Katelyn, his arm awkwardly around her. She was smiling broadly, laughing and comfortable. Kellin’s smile flickered, however, and his eyes darted around the room as if looking for someone. His stare landed on Vic, shadowed in the corner, glaring at the couple. He didn’t break the glower as he whispered something to Katelyn, kissing her on the cheek as he excused himself from the conversation and advanced towards the sulking man. Vic stood up slamming his bottle down on the table in front of him, gently shoving by the three drummers, meeting Kellin half-way. He kept it well hidden, but there was immense anger in his eyes. His right eye twitched slightly, the corners of his lips turned into a sinister grimace.
“Can we talk in the hall?” he managed to ask, teeth gritted. Vic just nodded, swallowing dryly. He followed Kellin’s quick movements into the empty hallway, illuminated by a soft light with a rather green filter. It cast a gloomy, if not daunting shadow over Kellin’s features, reflecting back the anger that raged within him.
“You need to stop doing this!” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. He jabbed two fingers at Vic’s chest, which pushed him back slightly into the wall. The taller man pursed his lips as Vic’s lack of retaliation, so he chose to continue,
“It’s over between us,” he muttered, voice raspy and agitated. He paused for a moment, thinking, before continuing again in a hushed tone, “it was a mistake,” he gulped, steadying himself, rather proud at the words he managed to push past his lips. He drew in a breath.
“I’m happy now,” he whispered, voice fading into a tense silence. This time, he wasn’t so proud. Vic looked at the carpet, counting how many stains he could see. He could feel Kellin’s stare at the top of his skull. He swallowed yet again, and looked up slowly. Kellin was still irate; fuming even, but there was something else to his features. There was grief, a drenched longing and lost desire deep within him, and the bitter taste of fantastic memories at the back of his throat. He could barely see those flickers of emotion, which Vic felt so passionately it pained him, but he hoped with immense desperation.
When Kellin looked at Vic, he could remember hot summer days, freedom, youngness, secrets and he could just feel his lips, raw and chapped on his, his skin hot and sticky against his. But he shook those thoughts away, glancing down at his shoes for a moment to clear his mind, reminding himself a tad of Kate because she had bought him the shoes. That was their life now, soon-to-be husband and wife. He was a father, he was an adult and he had responsibilities and faith under his belt, with no room for risk and Victor was one hell of a fucking risk. Those words stung Vic, and Kellin could see it clearly, because he felt that same way. The words were sour against his own tongue; they ripped a hole in his throat. Those words made a mess of him, but he had to face it. He kept thinking this same string of words over and over again (. Copeland, responsibilities, work, husband and wife, life.), trying so hard to keep strong. Vic looked at him, really looked at him, his hazel eyes flickering over his facial features, trying to pry into his new shell, trying to find that summer boy who loved him and kissed him in the shadows of back stages and night-time barbeques. Finally, he gave up, and his eyes drifted downwards, looking at the floor. At that moment, Kellin realized he had finally won and Vic no longer believed in what they used to be. He would get over it, and finally move on. He shuffled his feet against the carpet, absolutely devastated and so unsure of what to say next because he was trying not to sob and let Kellin know how badly it hurt. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat, gaining composure.
“I’m happy, too,” he muttered, voice cutting into the silence sharply. He exhaled loudly, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Vic squeezed his eyes shut, and he ducked out around Kellin, walking back towards the party, sliding his hands into his pockets. Kellin watched him go, feeling regret drench over him. He licked his lips, cursing himself, words starting to fumble in his mouth, “I guess I’m not the only one who’s lying,” he blurted, hands shaking. The statement burned like bile in his mouth, he didn’t mean to break his own shell. Shameful tears seared at his eyes. Vic had stopped, and slowly turned his head to look at Kellin, metaphorically crumbling in that hallway, blanketed by shadow. His hands trembled, his knee’s weak as he struggled internally, wanting so desperately to run at Vic and kiss him harshly and unabridged, their teeth scraping and lips bruising with such ferocity. But over Vic’s shoulder he saw Katelyn, throwing her head back in laugher, her engagement ring glittering in the dimmed ambient lighting as she tucked back a curled strange of hair. Vic followed his gaze slowly, and realized in a moment what he had to do. He turned back around, rushed over; pulling his hands out of his pockets he grabbed Kellin’s face and kissed him punitively. He pushed him into the back wall and kissed him hard and urgently. He tasted the twinge of Kellin’s fresh tears, and he pulled back, watching them streak down his pale face, and kissed his tear ducts just barely, his lips ghosting over his skin. Kellin shook under his touch, his head instinctively turning up to try and meet his mouth, but it didn’t happen. Vic just held his face, circling his cheek bones softly with his thumbs. Slowly, he pulled away, and Kellin let go a soft, gutted sob as Vic’s hands left him and he could no longer feel his hot breath on his face. He closed his eyes, not daring to watch the man walk away.
Kellin stayed there for a whole minute, as Vic said his quick condolences to everyone and left in a hurry. The bitter, crispy night air embraced him. It was when he got to his car that he finally broke down, falling against the vehicle to a tangled heap, sobs shaking him. He grabbed at his shirt, his neck and his legs as he tried to control his cries which racked his body as if he was frail. Snot and tears streaked down his face into his gaping mouth, he could taste his own bitterness. It took him fifteen minutes to regain composure, get into the car and drive to the hotel. Kellin also regained composure and walked back to his fiancé, forging a grin. She stared at him for a moment, trying to read his expression,
“Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned, kissing him on the cheek. Kellin nodded, “yeah,” he mumbled, “yeah.”