A/N: This is for Finkle, a belated Birthday present. Hope you like it, Finkle!
I don't own twilight.
So what?
Jacob set the glass down with a heavy thud. Screw her. Screw them all, he thought, signalling to the bartender that he wanted another drink. The latter eyed him apprehensively, probably questioning his age. He drew his lips back in a snarl, and the bartender refilled his glass in a hurry. He picked up the glass and lifted it up, smiling satisfactorily. The alcohol became a crystal colour in the light of the dimly lit bar.
Why couldn't she like him? Why did she have to choose that bloodsucker over him? Better yet, they're getting married today! Today! What was wrong with her?
Better yet, what was wrong with him? She was his best friend, he was supposed to be her best man, yet here he was, drinking, letting her down.
He growled again, causing the bartender to jump. He was frightening the poor man immensely, he could see. He was just drinking to get over his sorrows. He should go to the wedding, he reasoned. She might not want him, but that doesn't mean their friendship has changed in any way... Does it? Of course it does... She'd kissed him!
The fact still stood that she hadn't chosen him.
So what? A little voice in his mind asked. You're a rockstar, baby, and you can have anyone you want.
Not her. He replied broodily, closing his eyes for half a minute. Not her.
He thought the voice in his head was a bit odd for using the word 'baby'. He didn't sound like that... did he?
You've still got it, though. The voice tried to reason. And you don't need her.
Says who?
Say I. The voice answered smugly.
And who are you?
I am you. The voice replied eerily. Jacob wondered if it was the wolfish side that delivered commentary continuously.
The voice smirked. He didn't know how a voice could smirk, but it did.
He laughed bitterly. He was a teenager, not some middle-aged man who's never getting married. He was sure he'd imprint some time... As long as 'some time' became 'now', he'd be fine.
He took another swig of the burning fluid. It burnt his throat, making him think he'd swallowed acid. His throat seered as the last of it dripped into his mouth.
He honestly didn't know why he kept drinking. He was already morbid, drinking only intensified that feeling. The sadder he got, the more he drank, and the more he drank, the sadder he got. It was a really good way to make money, he had to admit.
In finality he placed the glass loudly on the counter. The barman jumped again, this time he glared at Jacob and swept the glass away.
''None more for you.'' He said firmly, putting a glass of clear liquid in front of Jacob. Water.
So what? He thought. I'm still great, and she can't take that away from me.
He gulped the water, slammed down the money (the bartender jumped again... Jacob would've felt sorry for him were it not for the fact that he had just given him a rather large tip).
I'll show her. I'll show them all. I'm better. He thought, a smile playing around his flesh-coloured lips. He'd show up for the wedding, playing the role he was designated to do. But that wouldn't necessarily mean he had to like it.
. . .
A/N: Please review!