At the end of the week, there was to be a reunion of the remaining members of the sensational seven. Baines, Sullivan, Miles, Westley, Phantomhive and Phantomhive were all going to be there. With the current state of affairs, however, several were nervous about how events were going to unfold. All of them were still shaken about the Scarlet Order incident, and in addition, there was concern over Daniel Westley. He and Kristopherson were still not on good terms, after all. They hadn't spoken since Daniel moved out of the apartment.
The Westley hadn't spoken to anyone since agreeing to meet with the group, either. None of them had any idea of what he was up to, and weren't loyal to the idea of him showing up at all. His sister had no news of him, as he hadn't been home in a while, either. He hadn't called his family. No one knew if he was alright, and the group was worried. According to the man's father, however, he was perfectly fine, as he has his assistant regularly check up on him. The others, however, were not so sure.
The Phantomhives had done a little investigating, and found that the assistant had been recently admitted to St. Raphael's hospital. Moreover, he was also one of the victims who were trapped by the mare. He had to undergo psychiatric therapy ever since, like many others under the same circumstance. They also found out which days he is supposed to check on Daniel, and the days that he has appointments. Times, too. The only thing that the duo were not able to get were the evaluations of the visits. He needed to commit a crime for that. They could have asked the man directly, but they didn't want to alert the assistant's employer that they were snooping about without the Council's permission. Unfortunately, they couldn't investigate their concern without getting in trouble. As memory serves, perhaps it's a good payoff, however.
It didn't matter. Daniel would turn up soon enough. He wasn't in the best of shape, but he would show his face. There is no graceful way to say that he and his friends had gone bar-hopping. Their intention was to hit on girls, but they only got sloshed and ended up stumbling home with nothing, thank goodness. The group was loud, disruptive, and vulgar, growing increasingly so after each drink. Finally, the place they finally ended up at booted them out the door and they decided to call it quits. Some of them went on home, and some of them decided that they would hang out for a while longer at their own homes. Daniel didn't, however. He wanted wasn't feeling well.
He wanted to forget his troubles. That's what hanging around this crew was about in the beginning. He was lonely, and was convinced that he wouldn't be able to show his face to the seven after his falling out with Kristopherson. After the group contacted him, however, his feelings were mixed. He wanted desperately to meet up with them again, but was afraid to. Kristopherson would be there, and he wasn't sure if he had it in him to face him, especially since he hadn't been keeping his promises to himself.
Daniel hadn't kept up with working out. In fact, he felt as though he gained some weight rather than lost it. He wanted more muscle mass, but that didn't happen. He was still single as well. The Westley wasn't even able to pull off a casual encounter. Male or female, it didn't matter. He had no luck with either one. It was harder than he thought, especially since his new posse didn't know about his interest in the same sex. He was completely on his own in that department, and he had realised just how bad he was at it.
Being with Anastasia was easy. They were in secondary school, and that was what one was "supposed" to do, even if it didn't mean anything. Kristopherson was simple to gain as well, seeing as though he had a crush on the Westley for ages. They were difficult to keep, however, as Daniel wouldn't give them what they needed in a relationship. He was just along for the ride. Part of him wondered if Kristopherson was having any luck. Knowing the Miles, he would. The faux-blonde never really had trouble finding dates. Daniel wondered if he still had a chance with the man, or at the very least, be his friend again. They had fun in the past, and he didn't want their friendship to be over. Neither of them did, in truth, but Daniel didn't know that. Sometimes, he wished he could just stop by the man's flat and talk about it. He wanted to fix it, but didn't know how.
While he thought drinking would ease his head, it did the opposite. The Westley couldn't stop thinking about it now. Wobbling down the sidewalk, he furrowed his brow and tried to concentrate his efforts on getting home instead. His face stung from the cold and he sniffled. Freezing and drunk was not a good combination. He swayed as he walked, occasionally stalling as he tried not to lose his balance. At this rate, he would be frozen solid long before he got home.
Reaching into his pocket, he tried to fish out his cellphone, but the battery was dead. This is what he gets for blasting random songs at the bar, he supposed, but he still wasn't at all pleased. He was even less pleased as he tried to look for his wallet so he could pay for a cab. It was gone. The man just stood still in the middle of the sidewalk for a moment and looked down, trying to remember where it could have gone. He then remembered having given it to one of the men he was with momentarily so that they could pay for drinks.
"Son of a bitch..." he mumbled, his face contorting into a snarl. Daniel's body tensed and tensed until he finally let all of it loose by kicking a mailbox. Rather, he attempted to and missed, causing him to lose balance and fall to the ground and hit his head. He was angry. He was so angry. Rolling over, he pounded his fist against the concrete, getting pebbles embedded in his skin and turning his skin red. Wobbling as he tried to sit up, he struck the mailbox with his fist while he was at it.
"Fuuuuckkk!" Daniel cursed, leaning forward so that his forehead touched the side of the mailbox. How pathetic did he look right then? He was drunk, sitting in the middle of sidewalk while trying not to cry. His "friends" had left him, having taken his wallet, and he had no way of calling anyone. Even if he asked to borrow someone's phone, no one in their right mind would lend it to him. He was drunk as a skunk and looked emotionally unstable.
Granted, he was, but it still made him feel worse. Nothing was going his way. He was unhappy. He always heard that breakups were rough, but he never believed it until it seemed that his life was falling apart. He lost his friends, his new "friends", and his wallet with all of his cards. He would have to cancel all of them if he got home. His family life was falling apart as well with the discovery of his father's revolting activities, and he didn't want to see him ever again. He hated his brother, too, so there was no reason for him to spend time with his family aside from Samantha, but he was losing contact with her as well. Friends and family were slipping away from him, and there was nothing that Daniel could do about it. Tears streamed down his cheeks as everything crashed down over him. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do at all.
He sat there for a good long while, causing his body temperature to drop by the minute. People whispered as they walked by, but he didn't register them. He didn't register anything beyond his own thoughts. Daniel Westley was just another drunkard on the sidewalk. Someone would probably call the police to take care of him eventually. Fortunately, they never came, however. Instead, someone else offered him a hand.
"Hey, you alright, mate?"
Slowly, Daniel looked up at the stranger, seeing a hand being held out to him. While the Westley wasn't sure if he wanted to take it, he certainly appreciated the sentiment. The other man wasn't hard to look at, either, which made it easier on him. The stranger had black hair that was swiped over to his left side, thick eyebrows, and freckles that were dark enough to stand out against his light brown skin. With the goatee trimmed into a very odd yet precise pattern, the man reminded him of Kristopherson, but he brushed it off as everything reminding him of Kristopherson lately.
"Not really..." Daniel answered in a quiet voice. It was almost raspy. He was cold and he felt sick.
"Do you need help?" the other asked. "Do you have any way to get home?"
Grouchily, the Westley replied. "How do you know I'm not just some tramp, drunk on the side of the street?" he said. "What makes you think I need help?"
"The fact that you're sitting on the sidewalk crying, probably." the stranger said. "You're clothes are way too nice to be a tramp, so I figured you just needed help up."
"I kinda do..." Daniel admitted. "My 'friends' stole my money and my phone's dead. I'm stuck."
"Lemme help you up real quick." the other man said, pulling the other up as he thought. He made sure that Daniel was steady on his feet before continuing. When he did, he tried his best to be helpful.
"Uuuuuhhh… I was on my way to my friend's place, and he's got a phone." he suggested. "You know the number of somebody who can come get you, right?"
"Yeah, I guess..." the Westley said. "You're not like, a serial killer or anything, though, are you? It's kinda weird, mate. People don't just offer people to come into random houses."
"I'm not from around here, so I dunno how people in London are." shrugged the stranger. "You don't have to come, but there might be a cup of tea in it for you."
Sighing, Daniel weighed his options. In truth, nothing looked good. All of the options seemed horrible. He could either stay outside and freeze to death or he could trust this random stranger to not murder him and go into his home. The odds were not good. They weren't good at all. He was drunk with no way of calling for help if something happened to him. How did he know that this man wasn't lying? Picking drunk people off of the street and offering them a way home sounds like a good tactic for some crazed murderer. Perhaps the thought processes of the Phantomhives had rubbed off on him a bit over the years.
"It's okay if you don't want to." the other said. "I know it's kinda weird, so I understand. If there's anything else I can do, I'd be happy to help."
"I don't really have much choice, unfortunately..." Daniel tried his best to articulate his words, but slurred a little. "If you do kill me, though, make it better than freezing to death out here."
"Haha, that won't be a thing to worry about." replied the stranger. "It's that building over there. It's only a block or so." he said, pointing. Following the man's finger, the Westley's eyes widened as he recognised the building. It was the building where Kristopherson's flat was.
"O-okay..." Daniel stuttered out. He wasn't going anywhere near Kristopherson, so it should be safe. The chances of running into the man are still pretty low.
"Alright. Let's go, then." said the other man, putting his hands in his coat pockets as he began to walk. "My name's Logan, by the way. Logan Kendrick."
"I'm Daniel Westley." said the brunet. "Y'know, it's kinda funny… I used to live in that building..."
"Oh, really?" asked Logan. "Small world."
