The world buzzed along, daylight shown through the closed blinds of the waiting room Greyson sat in. His eye bags were long and seemed to weigh a million pounds more, his shirt was wrinkled, and he probably stunk.
Police officers buzzed by, attending to their own duties without even really casting a glance his way. Amongst the many, was a woman with a police report in her hand.
She actually approached Greyson, face almost.. Bored?
Greyson didn't look up to take the police report he was handed.
"We have the incident down in our system. Unfortunately, because of the nature of the situation we really can't do anything." She informed with a blank expression.
Greyson nodded.
"It's up to you to deal with external affairs now." She dismissed, "Have a good day."
Greyson sighed, clutching the report in between his clammy hands. Of course nothing could be done.
There were no physical marks or video footage, no testimony, no nothing. Not even Greyson's and Louis's past dispute served as enough evidence to get Louis in any trouble. Greyson 's shook no matter how hard he gripped the paper in his left hand or his phone in his right.
He began towards the door feeling weightless.
"What did they say?" A voice summoned Greyson's head to raise.
It was Derek.
He looked worriedly at Greyson.
Greyson stared blankly into Derek's neck. It didn't matter if they were similar height, Greyson found it hard to look at Derek's face without crying. "That they can't do anything." He replied.
Derek sighed, annoyed but not at Greyson.
Greyson just began to Derek's car in the parking lot without any elaboration.
"What? But–" Derek's voice was urgent as he caught up in stumbles to Greyson.
"I don't know, Derek." Greyson snapped, "I can't do anything about it."
Derek shut up then, but that doesn't mean his gaze didn't.
–+–
Greyson picked at the Chinese takeout Derek had ordered for them.
He wasn't hungry.
He hadn't eaten all day, but his appetite had been stripped from him like his dignity.
His phone buzzed listlessly on the counter. Elise was concerned when Greyson called out with little to no explanation, probably. No one else would be calling.
The orange chicken in the micro-plastic container went cold after enough stalling. The AC ran loudly over the silence. Derek had long finished his bulk-amount of food, but was awkwardly picking at the crumbs of chow mein like there was anything more.
"You don't have to eat if you don't want to." Derek gave leeway like Greyson was even one to listen.
Greyson nodded.
"Do you want me to turn off the AC? I know I like to keep my place cold." Derek asked.
Greyson shrugged, "It's your house, don't worry about it." His eyes had lost the ability to maintain eye contact.
Derek sighed and stood. He stacked his dishes in the sink, arranged neatly and nicely.
"I'll wash the dishes once you're done." He said before beginning out of the small dining room/kitchen fusion.
Greyson nodded over his cold food. He never looked up enough to know that Derek had looked at him longingly as worried, but he figured.
Greyson felt as if his bones had gone brittle. He felt as if he had been rebuilt with pity, he felt nothing in every waking moment. Perhaps if he stood, his legs wouldn't have enough strength to support him. His eyes were dreary as he shoved the micro-plastic containers further up the small table. His arms felt weak in every action.
Louis had basically fled as far away as he could the second the county jail released him.
Louis hadn't contacted Greyson over the last few days in any way.
Their apartment contained only Greyson's belongings, containing no remains of a couple. Even then, almost half of Greyson's things had been brought to Derek's over the last few days.
It struck Greyson in the chest like a freshly-sharpened blade. How could Louis leave like they were nothing? How could Louis function after attempting to do what he did?
Greyson placed his head in his arms as he sulked on the table surface.
Was Louis completely unaffected? Greyson sure wasn't.
He hated Louis. He hated how he cheated, and how he was a stupid hypocrite, and how if it wasn't his way it was the highway, and how Louis couldn't take 'no' for an answer that night. He hated how Louis had become.
Greyson's Louis wasn't like that.
Greyson's Louis stuttered and faltered the first time Greyson had kissed him. Greyson's Louis asked Greyson out in a long loving paragraph over text, and had trouble facing Greyson in person. Greyson's Louis made fun of their alcoholic classmates, and cursed his cheating father together like a prayer.
What had changed? What had sparked Louis to do such a 180?
Greyson's eyes felt heavier with every waking thought.
–+–
"Is that Derek?" A loud and boisterous voice shouted over loud music and indistinct drunken chatter.
It was Derek entering through a large double door of what seemed to be an influencer house. Two grand stories, tall ceilings, and spiral stairs, tainted by alcohol and partying overtime. Greyson followed suit through the doors.
Derek wore a tight-fitted tank top that shoved just about everything but his chest area. He topped it all off with casual jeans and some pristine air forces. Greyson felt underdressed in his Uniqlo white tee and similar jeans.
In fact, most of the say– 200 guests seemed to be showing off something. Greyson guessed they had something to show due to the fact they were fitness influencers for the most part. It didn't help the feeling of being flashed every few seconds, though.
The conversation from near was shut up by the boisterous voice calling Derek's name. Some seemed annoyed, some seemed pleasantly surprised by Derek's appearance.
"The one and only." Derek replied with a short chuckle, standing next to Greyson to make his presence known. "How are you doing, man?" He asked with a firm and manly handshake.
"Good! I'm great! My brand deals have been popping off, my socials are in their prime!" The man replied, he then looked at Greyson with a small expression. "This your plus one?"
Derek nodded. "Greyson. My friend."
The man raised an eyebrow at Greyson, though his expression seemed innocent enough. "Nice to meet you. Name's Shamar." The man, Shamar, greeted with a handshake.
Greyson nodded in reply, and tried to replicate the almost-too-manly handshake he had seen Derek and Shamar do a second prior.
The room had an extra air of testosterone. Not to mention Shamar also had muscles to show, even a little more than some of the body-building looking men around.
Shamar turned back to Derek and suddenly gestured towards a few rooms down.
"Kev'll be super hype you made it, c'mon!" Shamar insisted, practically dragging Derek away.
Greyson watched as Derek waved to about seven other influencers in proximity with a blank expression.
The music was loud, primarily due to the fact that some of the many speakers were located in the main room. Some Frank Ocean song played, not that Greyson really listened to music. Many of the ripped attendance held clear or solo cups in their hands. Alcohol. Greyson hated the almost drunken and sweaty smell that filled the air.
The bars usually smelt this way, all of them.
Louis smelt like those bars.
Greyson shivered at the memories, recalling the reason why he still agreed to come with Derek here: He wanted to get drunk and forget. While he also wanted to keep his promise to Derek who had been so kind, the idea of a night free of thinking served him well. Thought the bitter taste of Louis lingered in the back of Greyson's mind at the idea, Greyson brushed it off as best he could.
Tonight was his night.
–+–
A back hit against the walls to a bathroom stall, followed by heavy panting. Greyson met lips with a blurry-eyed vision. He was half conscious, really, as was his company against the bathroom stall wall.
"Fuck…" A low voice muttered after a few seconds of quite the deep kiss. There was a notable hard-on in the other's pants. "Wanna continue?"
Greyson nodded slowly, "As long as you wanna." He exasperated, half-hard himself.
Greyson knew only blurry details of the next few minutes. The almost imprint of a dick not his in Greyson's hand. The imprint of his own dick accompanied by the other in his hand. Greyson could barely remember the head of brown hair he had just had a quickie with.
He stared into the bathroom mirror, ridding his hands of semen, and he wasn't sure who looked back.