The whiskey was working. Damian could feel it in his fingertips, in the lazy way his head tilted back, in the warmth burning through his chest. He wasn't drunk yet—not quite—but the edges of the world had started to blur, just enough to make everything feel softer, easier.
Alex, on the other hand, was already grinning like an idiot, his fingers drumming against the sticky bar counter. "You know what?" he muttered, voice heavy with booze. "We should do something fucking stupid."
Damian snorted, tipping his glass toward him. "Dude, we're already in a half-condemned bar, drinking whatever the fuck this is. Define 'stupid.'"
Alex spun slightly on his barstool, almost toppling over. "Like… something crazy. Something that actually makes tonight worth a damn."
Damian arched an eyebrow. "You trying to confess a crime to me right now?"
Alex gasped, clutching his chest like he was deeply offended. "How dare you? I would never." Then, after a pause, "…Unless you're in."
Damian smirked, shaking his head. "Try me."
Alex pointed at him, swaying slightly. "We should break into the football field."
Damian blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," Alex said, eyes glinting with mischief. "Hop the fence. Run the field. Act like we actually belong there."
Damian exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "That's your great idea?"
"Listen," Alex said, leaning in, voice dropping like he was about to tell the biggest secret in the world. "It's a fucking power move. Think about it—nobody's there, the whole field to ourselves, and we do whatever the fuck we want. Maybe we steal the mascot costume, maybe we run naked laps, maybe we just sit in the middle of the field like we own the place. But either way? It'll be a goddamn moment."
Damian stared at him. "You're insane."
"And you love it." Alex shot him a cocky grin. "Come on, Dami. Live a little."
Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He already knew he was going to say yes. He always fucking did when it came to Alex.
Before he could respond, the bartender dropped two more shots in front of them. "Last round, boys. Drink up or get the fuck out."
Alex grinned, lifting his shot glass. "To bad decisions!"
Damian exhaled, clinked his glass against Alex's, and muttered, "To bad fucking decisions."
The whiskey burned its way down, and Damian didn't know if it was the alcohol or the way Alex was looking at him, but suddenly, tonight felt like one of those nights—one of those nights where the world could shift, where a single choice could change everything.
And maybe, for once, that wasn't such a bad thing.