Author's notes: I know that this will act as a bit of a 'spoiler', but I do need to make a brief warning about this chapter. It deals with binge drinking and self-mutilation and it's quite angsty. I'm hitting on some painful subjects and I would not want to make anybody relive past experiences or be offended or hurt by the content of this story. You have been forewarned....
*
It was the witching hour, half past midnight. Other party-goers may have said the night was still young. To me, both the night and my friendship to Nathan Hennessey were over. I saw Nate as a paranoid, drunken bigot who could join Liam on my list of people who could go fuck themselves. I leaned carefully against the concrete balustrade on the far end of the third-floor balcony, away from the smokers and murmuring couples. The ashes of burning weed and a few cigarettes drifted through the chilly night air and curled into my nostrils and mouth. The flavoursome scent of hemp offered comfort to my shattered nerves, reminding me of my absent lover, Neill.
I was angry and alone. The guys that had taken Nathan back to his bedroom had had the sense to stop talking to me after I told them to 'Fuck off!' Greg had come to offer words of wisdom, but I'd been too angry to listen or to thank him for sticking up for me. I gazed down upon the campus, lit by bleary lamps with halos of orange and white-violet. The light glinted on the night-dampened asphalt paths and shone in the windows of the buildings. It was like looking down upon a disorderly architectural timeline. Old carved stone buildings jostled with wooden and brick buildings. Towering 1970's monstrosities that had ugly glued-pebble facades competed with modern lecture theatres and laboratories which stood gleaming in the dark like alien glass monuments. Intermingled were the proud autumn skeletons of massive oak trees.
I had to find Neill, either to rescue him from the siren clutches of Becky or to draw him from a sobbing foetal position into my arms. Wherever he was, I was certain that he would be agonising over Nathan's 'fucking faggot queer' announcement. I knew that he wasn't ready for all this. He was vulnerable and scared. With that in mind, I turned and pushed my way inside, through the throngs of people who were staring at me like I had grown an extra appendage. The music had stopped again; I mentally vowed to hunt down and kill the wanker who was in charge of the stereo. I was in one of those homicidal, unreasonable moods. Nate was at the top of my hit-list.
"What is everyone staring at?" I asked, loudly. "Hennessey is a fucking paranoid wanker. Jill and I are friends! We were talking on the balcony! There were about twenty other people out there, so it would be pretty damn hard and pretty damn stupid to get it on or whatever other shit Nate imagined we were doing without someone else saying something! I'm not getting back with Jill, nor am I gay! I'm angry as hell with Nate, I was only trying to help him sober up and he lashed out at me like that! As far as I'm concerned, he can go fuck himself! Are there any questions?" When nobody spoke up, I repeated, "ARE THERE ANY FUCKING QUESTIONS? No? Well, I hope that this is the end of the matter. This is supposed to be a happy night! I've just gotten back on the rugby team and I don't need shit like this."
There was only time for a few questions and words of support from my captive, staring audience before Greg let out a yell that there was a keg competition. Slowly, the music and partying started again and people lost interest in me. I glanced around but Neill was nowhere to be seen. I spotted Becky groping a dark-haired man and felt a little relief. At least she wasn't with Neill... which meant that my second thought was most likely correct. My heart sank further into my gut. I felt like I couldn't ask just anyone where Neill was without raising suspicion. Maybe Greg had seen him.
I found Greg in the kitchen, cleaning up another mess. I felt sorry for him. Nate and I had imposed this party on him without really asking about his thoughts. It was odd that he had commenced the next round of drinking games though. I'm not saying that Greg was a straight-laced guy; he did have his fun, just not when it was his apartment as the venue that was likely to be trashed. I helped him put the empties in a rubbish bag and apologised for yelling at him on the balcony.
"Nah, it's alright," Greg said. "I know you're feeling pretty upset."
Taking a deep breath, I replied, "Yeah, I was. Still am."
With a toothy grin, Greg picked up the rubbish bag and tied it off. "I know you'd rather be looking for Neill than helping me with this. I can tell you where he is β he went back to his room ages before Nathan had his tantrum. He didn't hear a thing. And before you ask how I know you're worried about him, you look like a dog who can't remember where he buried his bone."
I realised then that Greg knew about me and Neill. "Oh god," I whispered. "Am I that obvious?"
He shook his head. "Not really, I just watch people- not in a dodgy way- and I noticed that you guys couldn't help but touch each other, almost unconsciously, like you don't even know that you're doing it. You two always seem to pick up on what the other one's getting at long before anyone else does. And you're always happier if Neill's with you. It's okay though, I mean- I'm not gonna say anything to anyone.
There was a lump in my throat as I thought about Greg had said. He was a good friend and I felt like I had taken him for granted, especially with imposing tonight's party on his room. "Thank you," I croaked. "For what you did after Nate said that stuff- I'm really sorry about this whole party thing. I promise I'll come by tomorrow and help you clean up."
Greg smiled. "Hey, that'd be cool... Look, um, there's one more thing. I know that you are angry at Nate. Shit, I'm furious with him myself! But lately, he hasn't been too happy with himself. He perked up when he picked up with Jill and then tonight he was back down in the dumps, even before he started drinking. I know what he said was pretty unforgivable but I think you should bear in mind that he's not doing so good before you have a go at him. He never used to drink like this, Seamus, and he's missing lectures."
"He's never been a model student," I snapped. "As for the drinking, he was like this all the way through high school. He was a total fucking embarrassment then too. s far as I'm concerned, he can go fuck himself."
*
I tried the handle of my room. The peeling white door was locked. I knocked, but there was no reply from within. Where was Neill? Remembering his behaviour that morning, I considered that he might be ignoring my knocking. "Neill, it's me. Can you open the door? I don't have any keys."
After a few seconds, the door was opened. Neill stood there in a pair of grey pyjama bottoms. His golden hair was dishevelled and slightly flat on one side, as if he had been lying down. He scowled at me. "Where the fuck have you been? I've been waiting up for you for about three hours! Don't you look at your phone?"