Feeling Right
"Spot."
"What?"
"Spot."
"What?"
"Spot?"
"What!" he yelled, glaring at the childish boy in front of him.
"They rhyme," the boy giggled slightly.
"You're drunk," Spot sighed, something had been eating at his friend and it made him drink.
"No," the slow response confirmed Spot's assumption.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, helping his friend up, "Let's get ya home, ya big oaf."
"Hey!" hiccup, "That's not nice." Spot smiled slightly, shaking his head and lead his friend from the bar. "Spot?"
"What?" he half expected his name to be said again but was surprised with:
"What's wrong with me?"
"Huh? What'd ya mean?" Spot asked confused, he was perfect. How could something be wrong with him?
"I mean, my life's going, well, nowhere, I don't even have a girl," he slurred before looking at Spot, who pushed his onto the bed.
"Nothing's wrong with you," Spot slurred, turning to leave but felt a cold hand in his own.
"Spot?" he turned to look at the drunk boy . . . who looked surprisingly sober now.
"What Kelly?" Spot sighed, confused and tired barely registering that Jack had pulled him into the bed. He felt Jack's arms around him and stiffened slightly. "Jack?"
"Shut up Spot, it feels right," the tired boy mumbled, pulling the shorter one closer to his body, so he did, but he wondered if Jack would remember this tomorrow. Quietly and very softly, he pressed his lips against Jack's. Jack smiled, burying his face into Spot's hair but whispered, "Go to sleep Conlon," then kissed him.
"Don't tell me wh-," but he was silenced and this time, he listened.
Second one down!
Again, please message any comments/suggestions :-D
