Cause (åsamka)
By exasperationation
Grey smoke circled off into the cooling midnight air, filtering the last rays of sunlight, desperately clinging to the world which was ready to slumber. He took another drag of the cigarette, studying the cracks in the concrete under his old, worn out shoes. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes red, tired and swollen. He reeked of liquor, smoke and broken hearts. The music still streamed out of the open windows of floor five, and he took a glance at the plate on the bus stop announcing the remaining time to wait, realising he had about fifteen minutes to change his mind. But he stood still, as if his feet had grown together with the grass and the weeds that had begun to stick up through the God forsaken pavement.
Yet, he never once doubted he had made the right decision. He simply couldn't seem to make up his mind about the certain ladies demanding his ever-loving attention, so leaving them both behind and moving on as definitely the wisest decision. Nevertheless, he felt like he was going to miss the thrill. He did not regret anything, but the need of going back up there and putting things right was an urge strong enough to ache in his every bone.
He picked up his phone and threw a glance over the screen. No new messages. No voice-mails left. No missed calls. He unlocked the screen with one finger while lighting another cigarette, the last one squashed on the pavement beneath his shoe. He scrolled through his contact list quickly, ignoring the most recent numbers. Francis Bonnefoy. Exactly the person he needed.
The Frenchman answered after three signals had beeped in Vlad's ear. "'Allo?"
"I'm trying to get my mind of relationships for a while, what can I do?"
The French chuckled in his ear. "Get wasted."
Vlad smiled crookedly for himself. "Really? But I've been binging all day already."
"Then do a little more, you sound sober enough for another round." A shuffling was heard in the background and Francis' voice was tinted with slight impatience. "Listen, I'd take you for a round but I'm, uh, occupied. Call Arthur. He's just as lonely and slightly more pathetic. And he could be your designated driver, you know how he is."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll probably just try to get as far away from west end as possible. Can't stand the thought of having a walking distance to them."
"I get you. Take care, alright?"
"Yah. Bye." He said, trying not to sound too disappointed. Just as he finished off his other cigarette, he saw the lights of the bus as it turned 'round the corner of the street.