Disclaimer: I own nothing
Irish whiskey burns his throat. The noise is just a hammer in the back of his mind.
The music, the atmosphere and alcohol do not do their job. They do not fulfill their function.
Spencer recalls his childhood, when it all began. He was only seven years old, when he hid his dolls under the bed, out of sight of his strict father.
He changed their robes and combing her long artificial hair. He painted their lips, before looking at them carefully.
He was always a disappointment to his father. His father hoped an alpha male that never came.
Little Spencer never saw anything wrong with playing dolls. He saw no sin in being interested in ballet, instead of playing baseball.
However, Spencer knew that he was not others like. His fellow teenagers fell in love with sweet and beautiful girls; they were excited looking at the pictures of those naked women in magazines.
He did not feel tempted by those bodies full of curves. He just felt his blood boil when Ethan McLean walked around him...
Spencer closes his eyes, while allowing the liquid deposit slip down his throat. He has the feeling of being in high school again. He is hiding his true self, he still clings to the model set, and he keeps hidden in his own lair.
He dates women. He pretends to be attracted to them.
They are happy and he can continue with his appearances, keeping his big secret in the back of his closet.
Spencer knows he is not doing too well. He is aware of his situation. He knows that the rumors are surrounding him. He knows that people are beginning to suspect.
They suspect that extreme sensitivity and his innate fragility... They look with suspicion, that he has feminine touch walking when.
His pained eyes fill with tears, before leaving the glass on the bar. Spencer drops his gaze on him, while his heart shrinks in his chest.
The pain is stuck in his bones, pain for a love that will never have a chance to live. Unrequited love and feelings wasted.
His rational side yells, scornfully 'Is that the man you love?...'
He then looks at the girlfriend of his love, laughing in his arms, in love, in the same way that Spencer is also...
Derek looks at her tenderly, he drops his lips on hers ... Probably he will make love to her tonight.
Between the Spencer's fingers a new glass of whiskey.
He is very intelligent, knows that this is not the solution. The solution is freedom. The solution is to stop lying. The solution is to remove the mask and live a full life. Being who is.
However, it is not so easy. He has tried before. Among his sheets a close combat with men of all kinds. Despite his introverted personality, he had no trouble living days of release. Days of laughter, sex and freedom. No one there knew him in those bars, no one could judge.
He enjoyed his body; he abandoned in caresses of strangers, addictive kisses flavored alcohol. However, every one of his lovers disappeared at dawn, the mythical vampire like. Then, after the fun and passion, there was only loneliness...
Spencer decides he's drunk too much. That damn drink is not going to solve anything. All he will get is a hangover from hell.
Slowly, he passes unnoticed among all these strangers, disappearing from the bar. At the door, he turns to face his friend. Derek has his hands buried in her hair; his mouth giving those kisses will never be for him.
'Am I a masochist?' he asks himself, while walking through the dark streets. When Spencer is far from all, he hugs himself. He seeks solace in his own arms. His eyes begin to release tears. His crying becomes uncontrollable, while he is walking to his apartment.
His father's voice echoed in his head, 'You're a fucking sick!' and sounds again in his brain, asking 'Why do not I can have a normal child?'
A/N: I'm thinking of writing a sequel ... My poor Spencer deserves a boyfriend who loves him :D
Thanks for reading, kisses!