A/N: Hello! I have a bunch of new ideas for Fanfictions, and I will elaborate on those later, but for now, here's the first one. Enjoy!

"Abysmal," he muses, setting his keys on the key ring. He swipes the toe of his shoes along the linoleum, murmuring "Screw it," once the alcohol and glass shards coating the floor and tables become the lesser of his worries. This is why they don't have a maid; its futile―they always quit.

Stepping tactlessly across the room, muttering profanities under his breath, Tobias can't help but think back wistfully on a few hours ago, the bass pounding through the speakers, the many bodies alive and moving to the beat of the music, the feel of Lauren Bay's mouth on and around him. Now, he's in his seemingly empty house, wallowing in the surety of his father's intoxication and the beating that will certainly follow.

The house is unnecessarily large, with only the echoing of footsteps, weekly revelry, and the occasional moaning of another of his father's drunken escapades to fill the hollow walls. Marcus is rarely ever home―he's either salvaging his self-worth in a bar, or "working late in the office"―and Tobias doesn't care. He's doing too much now to care.

Tobias' group of friends was never the best kinds of people to grow up with, but they were like him. They were fun. He'd never had a tattoo before he met them, but he has a lot of them now. Maybe too many. They were confident, fierce adrenalin junkies, always awaiting the next thrill, and he loved that.

His father was here, he could tell. The door to his room was locked, but there was a sliver of light peeking past the bottom of the door. He could hear the sharp clang of a bottle against his teeth. His fists clench involuntarily and he stalks into his own room, closing the door lightly because even through his blinding rage, he has common sense.

The first thing he does when he enters his room is walk straight to the locked door, pulling the key out of his pocket. He keeps this room only to himself, the room that holds things only he is able to treasure. He made the mistake years ago, of showing who he really is. They all thought he was crazy. But he liked it. He reveled in their fearful cries as they abhorred. They all thought he was insane.


"Dude," Zeke exclaims, slinging an arm around his friend. "Guess what, bro."

"What," Tobias says, unable to conceal his irritation… or just unwilling.

'I don't do clubs,' he used to claim, attempting to turn down Zeke's offers. But he never quit his pestering, and has always brought his best friend with him to 'Score some chicks,' he put it. No matter what anyone thought about him, Tobias didn't just want girls for their bodies. Unbeknownst to his friends, Tobias had a soft spot and needed someone to wear it out. But he never told anyone, always drowning his emotions in girls and booze and his dark, quiet room.

So, when his best friend told him about their date with twins he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at it.

"Thanks," he says with a hint of innuendo.

"Come on," Zeke says, motioning to the two girls exaggeratedly. "They're twins. Be happy."

"I am." And the subject is dropped.

Tobias' eyes drift to the two approaching girls, taking in their matching blood red hair and curvy hips. One of them slips easily under his arm, blissfully starting conversation. Her plump red lips move briskly as she talks, and she makes sure to run her hand up and down his abdomen a few times.


"I love your eyes," she says the next week.

"As I yours, my love," Tobias purrs. She giggles as he leans in.

Its cliché, he knows it, but he also knows what girls like. They like a man from those romance movies they've watched at sleep-overs, the ones who kiss them in the rain and swoop them off their feet, murmuring sweet nothings in their ears as they carry them off into elation.

"I love you; I love you, only you, my love."

He doesn't like the way she kisses him. It's sloppy and she always wears too much lip gloss. He doesn't know why he leads these girls on. Too many reasons to remember. This time, though, he has no reason for. Maybe it's the beautiful color of her hair or the lustful glance she sends him as she takes him in her mouth. Either way, he knows this isn't going to last.


"Booze," he says, tossing his friend a can. "Booze solves everything."

"I don't know what to do, man," Zeke admits. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol or just him confessing. "I really like Shauna and I would give an―"

"So go out with Shauna," Tobias interrupts.

Zeke sends Tobias a disquieted glance, not wanting to leave his best friend to get girls on his own. They've always gotten dates for each other, just a game they've played for years. It was their own game. But now, Tobias had gotten Zeke this girl, Shauna, and he has fallen in love with her.

"Don't, Zeke," Tobias warns. "It's fine. I'm not going to keep you from her. They're just girls anyway."

"Yeah, I guess," Zeke says. "But what about you?"

"How's about we just put this game on hold?"

There's a pause. "What would I do without you, Four?" Zeke slurs―the fact that they are on a seven story roof doesn't stop them from getting drunk.

"Die," Tobias says, looking down at the street below. "Or maybe worse… die alone."

And they laugh.


He always plans what he's going to say. The majority of the time it's the same: "I'm sorry. I really liked you, but… I just can't, I'm sorry." They pity him, and end up losing contact one way or another. Two weeks later it's the same thing, different girl. He's fain.

She's angrier than all of the other girls. He actually has to beg her to understand.

"Please," he says. His voice wavers. "I can't do this anymore. Please, understand. I'm so sorry."

A tear falls from her eye, but she nods. He wipes her eye with his thumb, kissing her forehead. He leaves with a smirk.

A/N: Okay, I hope you like that! The next chapters will hopefully be longer, but you'll have to give me time. I want to post another story on the 3rd of December or for people who's dates aren't the same as New York, in two days. So, I hope you all have wonderful days! Goodbye!

-Alesandra