I ended up having more of a plan than I intended to make. Prepare for drama "xxx" means pov change.

The basement was flooded with sweaty college students and a few highschoolers littered the crowd. It seemed like everyone was drinking their asses off. They bumped into one another and thrashed about like animals. We showed up late and the band was playing some poor excuse for heavy metal. Although, it went hard enough to draw a crowd. Either that or the free booze made showing up seem worthwhile. I certainly thought so.

I grabbed a cup the second I heard the dreadful music. Half full cups were sitting about everywhere and more cups were being filled by the minute. What was the harm in taking part? We could order an Uber or maybe we wouldn't have to. Joel didn't seem too interested in drinking.

"Ah, yeah, I'm just watching my caloric intake," he excused. "Been getting a belly and I'm not too happy with it."

"Awe but your stomach isn't that big," I joked and poked his torso. He got visibly uncomfortable and I had immediate regret. It was very insensitive and he obviously felt bad. I was about to apologize but someone fell into me.

"Woah, sorry dude," he said, standing back up. "Nice hair." I thanked him and he walked away.

It was kind of surprising how crowded the basement got. More people came to watch the concert as the songs got heavier. Perhaps it was originally a party. The band was just brought on for appeal. The drinks were a highlight. It felt weird, just being a 30 year old among a sea of college students and younger.

Thanks to the heaviness of the music combined with the growing mass of edgy children, the smallest of mosh pits had formed in the middle of the little basement. At that point, I had what I felt was enough of a buzz to join in on something rowdy and cool looking. I did a quick check of the people in the moshers to make sure that they weren't wearing anything spikey or flailing about way more than necessary. I had no intentions of being stabbed because some alternative kid doesn't know the rules of the mosh and I didn't want my nose to get busted by some fist gone astray. Even so, I'd try not to have hard feelings. It's a mosh pit, after all. You shouldn't go in expecting to come out unscathed. I slammed another drink, gave roomie all the items in my pockets, and went in.

Maybe this'll distract me.

xxxx

I watched with concern and fear as Dave weaved his way through the crowd and into a swirling pit of sweaty metal heads, most of which seemed to be drunk off their asses, stumbling as they entered and began to throw their arms and legs about and bump into each other.

He was easy to spot for his height alone. Many of the people here had coloured hair. It's fucking insane what you can do to your hair these days. Dave just has a stripe of red in his hair. The guy I'm next to has a stupidly tall mohawk dyed in a rainbow. He kept gloating about how he was friends with the band as if they had already grown famous and intimidating. People will gloat about anything for attention. It'd be different if he were saying something nice about the band. "I've been listening to them since they dicked around in their first rehearsal. It's amazing how far they've come." Instead, he chooses to try and gain social traction through there one little success of gaining a crowd too large and rowdy for this basement.

I do admit, I didn't realize how young they were going to be. Maybe I should have read more into the flyer. I had just wanted to do something more with Dave because, for whatever reason, he's buried himself in his work. We barely did anything together. Now, he's just gone into a pit. Maybe he's avoiding me. Maybe he didn't want me to come over and was just being nice.

The band eventually finished and it was time to go home. I had to drive, Dave had many drinks. He slept for most of the ride home.

When we did get to his apartment, I did my best to support his staggering, drunk ass while walking him to his bedroom. On a normal night, I'd be the one needing help walking but I hadn't even been drinking. Something had to be bothering him, more than his usual recurrent depressive episodes. He'd normally distance himself, not drink. I've been worried about him. He's just been distant. I mean, he's never really been all that emotionally connected but he's never really been this closed off, either.

We finally made it to his door. It was already cracked open so all I had to do was kick it open a little with my foot. I was close to but by some force of sheer evil, the door shut on its own. I swore under my breath and Dave mumbled something under his breath. He stood completely up and stepped back a bit. Leaning on the door to support his weight, he turned the knob and fell into his room. In a lame attempt to catch him, I grabbed his sleeve and fell down with him. I landed on top of him, quickly trying to get off of him and help him off the floor. His arms wrapped around my neck when I pushed myself up. I looked him in the eyes, puzzled. He was blushing but his face was blank.

"Dave?"

Dave pulled my head down. Our lips met and I froze. This wasn't something I had expected and to be frank I'm disgusted that it was happening. One of my best friends, someone I wasn't attracted to, basically forced himself onto me. An exaggeration, of course, but it was still not contented and definitely not ideal. I.. I hate this. This isn't ok. I tried to push myself away from him but he had me in a firm hold. My heart was beating in my ears as I banged on his arms as hard as I could from such an awkward angle. I dug my nails into his shoulder and he finally released me.

"What the fuck?" I yelled and wiped my lips. My hands were shaking and I stumbled as I stepped back. Dave sat up, still very drunk and blank faced. He tried to stand up but was struggling quite a bit while mumbling his sorrys. He may have done something detrimental to our friendship but I could at least help him the rest of the way to his bed. He was drunk, after all. Maybe this entire situation was just him being a dumb drunk. You can't be too sure. Something in me wants to write it off as that because he's my friend. A good friend to me. But I can't shake the feeling that maybe it meant something and it could happen again.

I took his shoes off so his bed wouldn't get dirty, put the blanket over him, turned his fan on, and left his room. We had packed my stuff earlier that morning because I'd be leaving early the next morning. So, I just grabbed my suitcase, ordered an Uber, and drove to the airport. I could stand sleeping in the airport for the night if it meant that I was away from him. We could just need a break from being in each other's company. Maybe it was just him being drunk. Whatever it was, I needed to think it through and calm down.