• He was drunk. He knew it, but he no longer cared. He was gorging himself with alcohol; anything he could afford—anything that could make him “forget”.
    Eyes flashed over at him as he swayed and moaned softly, laughing under his breath at the slightest buzz of a fly or the way the bartender shook his head continuously. Some mouths moved rapidly, letting hurtful and silent words spill out into the air, filled with layers of smoke and the smell of body oder. Heads turned and smirks played at the corners of mouths.
    'I'm never happy, ' he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He was very tired, but he didn't care anymore. He just ordered another scotch and rolled his head around on his broad shoulders. He looked over at his buddy. Boy, he was just dizzy from doing that. He simply laughed his strange laugh that women loved, yet feared for it's dark tone.
    'I never said you were.' Chocolate eyes focused on him and the drunk dropped his gaze. The freakishly tall, milky-eyed partner said nothing more and watched the bartender set another drink down beside his friend's quivering hands. 'You're going to be puking whales, Moe,' he commented.
    'Bull crap!' Everyone turned and glared at them, confusion, anger and humor swimming in their cold eyes. Moe just held his drink in his hands and took a swig. He shook his head, who knows why. People continued to whisper into the thick air.
    'You're very stubborn. She left you because you're an alcoholic.' The chocolate-eyed friend ordered a Wild Turkey and gave Moe a funny look. 'I don't blame her either.' He grinned, revealing perfect white teeth.
    'She left with my money, my kids, and with that...b*****d...J-Jer...' He trailed off and began to stare at nothing at all, as if he could hear voices speaking to him and he was trying to listen. He finally fallen out of his trance and looked over at his partner. 'Jeremy.' Moe then focused on a bowl of mints that sat just at the other side of the table. Disgusting little blue mints, for that matter.
    Moe's brown-eyed buddy just slid the shot of Wild Turkey over to him. Moe's thin eyebrows just raised slightly. 'You drink it. I...don't want it.' The partner just shook his head and murmured, 'I bought it for you—' and he grinned his wolfish smile again.
    Moe sat back and ran his fingers through his greasy hair and grimaced.. 'Why you?' he asked, wiping his fingers on his jeans. The brown-eyed friend just looked over at him, not one bit of emotion painted on his perfect face..
    Then his eyes narrowed. 'Because I treated her right.'
    Moe laughed. 'Liar.' He rolled his head on his shoulders once again.
    Jeremy smirked. 'Well, I DID treat her right. Until she had your kid when she told me it was mine. I told her to get out after that. She refused.' A hungry fire begun to dance and flicker in his eyes as he leaned closer to Moe.
    'And you...' Moe trailed off again to listen to the voices in his head.
    Jeremy cackled and the fire started melting away the warmth from his eyes. He knew what Moe meant. 'Go ahead, drink it, you deserve it.' Moe said nothing more and picked up the shot that Jeremy bought him. He dumped it down his throat and he could've swore his stomach jumped and churned. He stood, knocking the metal chair back, and the clank it made when it hit the ground caused unwanted attention. Jeremy thought Moe said that he had to pee, but the words were too slurred to hear clearly. The fire still blazed in his eyes, and he just watched his partner scramble to the bathroom. He chuckled and shook his head, telling himself how pathetic Moe can be.
    He waited a moment then pushed his chair back, grimacing when the seat made a horrible screeching sound against the bar's unclean floor. He stood and walked to the men's bathroom calmly—taking long strides—opened the door and leaned against the door frame, his thin arms crossed. Moe obviously missed the toilet by a few feet, but now he was gagging and coughing in the nearby trashcan.
    Moe started to sob while throwing up, which just irritated the pain in his belly. 'Why?' he whimpered through breaths and his hiccuping. Jeremy exhaled slowly and stared. He wasn't staring at Moe but on something else. He was probably listening to the voices, too; the cold, dark, whispers.
    'I've felt like I've ended it,' Jeremy said through closed teeth. He took a step forward and slipped. He fell to the floor and his once crisp, black jacket was covered in puke and urine. He grimaced and sat up. He was surprised he hadn't hit his head, either against the toilet seat or by the disgusting tiled floor. Moe set his head against the trashcan that he was holding between his legs, breathing heavily.
    Jeremy sighed and chuckled smugly. Moe looked at him with glassy eyes.
    'What?' Jeremy just shrugged his left shoulder and smirked.
    He rolled his head slightly on his shoulders and finally looked at Moe. 'I did end it.'
    The alcoholic chuckled and threw up again. He gathered himself up again slowly. 'But, it's still only the beginning.'