The raindrops on the window smudged the night’s lights into a painting of stark yellows and oranges. Lucas drummed his fingers on the table. He was incredibly bored, a consequence of showing up an hour early just to get out of the house. He sat in a booth in a dimly lit bar, running thoughts struggling to swim above the crowd noise, and the knot in his stomach. He felt– oddly nervous. Shaky, almost. Almost like he was anticipating a big drop. No clue why. 

Ding!

The door swung open, and in walked a party of one- Ryan Jacobs. Lucas froze. Oddly, he froze in confusion, which wasn’t a thing he was aware that a man could do.

“Emily’s already got plans with some friends,” Ryan mumbled, sitting down across from Lucas and taking off his grey coat. He wasn’t angry, just detached. 

There it was. The drop. How could he have not asked? Well, it didn’t matter. He’d have other chances, but it just felt like a moment had slipped away, like– Well, It wasn’t like he cared. He would tell that to himself until he didn’t. He truly did not care about Emily Jacobs. Well, it must’ve been working a little bit. He already felt empty and numb.

“Well, then, you come here often?” Ryan asked, brightening up as soon as he spoke, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

“It only just opened.”

“Last year!”

Lucas furrowed his eyebrows, and widened his eyes, glancing about and jittering his hands around on the table like he just regenerated. His mind was thick with fog. 

“Really?”

“Yes, really! Why would I lie about that?” He said in a shrill tone not unlike shock. Ryan stood up, his wrinkled white dress shirt becoming visible in a little shred of candlelight. “What d’you want?”

“Erm- Just a whiskey, I suppose.”

Ryan nodded and stepped over to the bar, leaving Lucas back to thinking. God, did he hate thinking. Especially right now. He had to strain to keep her in his mind, because she was a better thought than his own internal monologue. The thought of her bright smile, of her strong eyes, of her ruby red lipstick-

Slam

“There y’are,” Ryan beamed, slamming two pints on the table.

“Oh– thank you–”

Lucas flickered a smile, flashing between worry, and worry but trying-not-that-hard to hide it. He hated the idea that he would have to talk about anything, because every word would sting when it wasn’t about Emily.

“You…alright?”

Ryan squinted as he said it. It wasn’t a very sentimental tone, but it was definitely concerned.

“What–? Oh, yes. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“That sounded very convincing.”

They stared at each other for a couple seconds (or hours, it was hard to tell,) in a feedback loop of wanting to go first but thinking the other probably had a much more important thing to say. That emptied his mind for a second, really. Idiocy calmed him down.

“Just…lots of thinking. That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, does it?”

“More than you think.”

They sat in silence for a moment, but the silence of company. That was a silence that Lucas, a notable craver of noise, would sell his soul for. His thoughts slowly trickled away, and he slowly trickled back into the room.

“Well then–?” Ryan said with a sly smile, holding out his pint of what was presumably a very strong and cool drink.