Maybe—just maybe—it was never the brilliant stroke of genius we once believed it to be. I shifted on the barstool, as the heavy scent of expensive cologne and stale gin swirled around me.
"Hey, are you on your own?"
"Ah. Yes." I hesitated, my gaze flickering toward the exit before returning to the amber liquid in my glass. "But I'm not here for... well, you know."
"Oh, that's alright." The man chuckled, a smooth, practiced sound. "Can I still buy you a drink, though?"
Maybe I should have stopped doing this a long time ago. I watched the neon lights of the bar reflect in the polished mahogany surface, feeling a familiar twinge of guilt. But was it really that bad of a thing to do?
"Well. As I said... I'm not one of you—"
"I know what you meant," he interrupted, leaning in slightly closer. "But still, let me invite you to a drink. Who knows? If you accept, it may help change your mind."
"Haha. Well, I don't think it will, but... sure." I offered him a small, tight smile, my heart thudding a rhythmic warning against my ribs. "Although, you should know that I like the expensive ones. Will you still buy one for me, knowing that?"
"Haha!" He let out a melodic, trilling laugh that sounded far too bright for the dingy atmosphere. "That won't be a problem, don't worry. So, care to tell me your name? Since we'll be drinking together tonight."
I paused, the name tasting like ash on my tongue. "... Connor."
Even so, I guess things had to go spectacularly wrong for me to actually sit here and wonder about all of this.
"Connor, huh? That's a nice name. I'm—"
Still, the more that I think about it, the more the doubt creeps in. Was it truly that bad of an idea? I can't really say for certain.
***
It was roughly a year ago that the 'idea of the century' first sparked in our bright, albeit incredibly naive, little minds. We were hanging out at my university best friend's place, right when winter was at its peak. The air was as biting and cruel as it could possibly be for poor students like us. The end of the semester had finally freed us from our academic torture, showing a rare moment of mercy before the next wave of stress hit. We met once again as the starving, fried-brained students we were, huddled together for warmth and sanity.
"... Kha! That hits the spot!"
"You're talking like an old man again."
"I am at heart, though," I remarked, watching the steam rise from my own breath in the poorly insulated room.
My two close friends and I had decided to hang out at Mason's apartment, as was our tradition once freedom arrived. It wasn't the fanciest place in the city—far from it—but it was the best option we had. He had a decent electric heater and no family members to shush our loud, drunken ramblings. We were all hoping to get properly smashed and relieve the horrible academic stress we'd survived, more or less victoriously, once again.
"I can't believe I still have two years left to graduate, and yet this dense girl, who is an old man at heart, is already graduating! Aagh, the envy I feel! D*mn it! Give me that! Quick! I'm getting another drink!" Sophie whined. She was already visibly swaying, her eyes glazed after drinking only half a can of the cheap, watery beer we could barely afford.
"Hey, finish the one you already have in your hand first!" Mason easily dodged her lazy, uncoordinated jump. He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and disgust. "Sigh. It's good you're the economic kind of drunkard, you know? Because if you weren't, we'd be all out of beer already thanks to Layna hogging them all for herself."
Mason, my best friend whom I'd known since the first day of uni, glared at me. I ignored him, calmly gulping down the rest of my can, utterly unbothered by the usual chaos that defined our friendship.
"Hm? What now? You can't go around blaming me all the time, Mason." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "You guys said we were celebrating my complete survival. It's only fair that I drink more than anyone, right?"
"In what world did we ever agree to that!? You're just shameless, Layna! I paid for all of this, you know?!"
"Hmph. Whatever. You even make me feel poor at a time like this." I felt a sudden wave of gloom wash over me. "The more reason for me to drink it all, since I'll stay penniless until I find a freaking job in this harsh economy. At least your parents will keep giving you money for beer, Mason—unlike mine."
Feeling depressed by the bleak future awaiting me, I sighed heavily. I poured more beer into my glass with narrowed eyes, watching the foam rise, hoping it would fill the void in my stomach.
Even though it should have been a happy occasion—finishing years of soul-crushing study that demanded the best years of my youth—I actually felt a bit bummed about it. The reason? The natural step after graduating. The reason I truly disliked the idea of finishing my studies was the looming shadow of job hunting.
"Sigh. That money wasn't for beer, though." Mason stared sadly at the pile of empty cans, his shoulders slumping. "I used the bit I had saved for tomorrow's lunch for this. I'll starve tomorrow."
His comment was depressing, but we were all fairly miserable to begin with. Together, we fell into a sudden, heavy silence. It was a hurtful silence, the kind that makes you reconsider every choice you've ever made. That's just how life feels when you finally realise how the world actually works as an adult—in a sucky, annoying, and often unfair way.
The more we stayed quiet, the more we felt the void the silence was creating. It felt as if we were the empty cans in our own weak hands. Instead of making us feel better, the quiet only made us feel more pathetic.
It was a difficult atmosphere to break. It had to be a smooth move, or we'd all spiral into a collective breakdown. I really wonder how it was that Mason decided such an awkward and depressing silence was the right time to say it. But who am I to know what went through my dear bestie's head? He chose that exact moment to break the silence with a confession everyone already knew. At the very least, it broke the tension, replacing it with something far more interesting.
"I'm gay," he said, his voice solemn, as if he were confessing a capital crime in front of a jury after committing murder.
"Huh?"
"I'm gay—"
"N-no, we heard you just fine."
Sophie and I went from staring miserably at our cans to looking at Mason. He looked incredibly serious, his jaw set. Sophie and I shared a brief, annoyed glance, nodding in silent agreement before blurting it out in unison.
"We already know you're gay."
"Huh?"
"What? You didn't know? Heh, took you long enough, mate." I sneered at him, feeling he deserved it for thinking we were that oblivious. Both of us scoffed in disbelief that he actually thought his secret had gone unnoticed.
"Girl!? I'm coming out to you and that's what you say?! Where are the gasps!? The emotion?! The drama?! I thought you would be more shocked!! This isn't going like I thought it would!"
"What? Do you want us to call an exorcist or make you beg God for forgiveness? Come on, what age do you think this is?"
"An exorcist is a bit much, but—"
"Mason, I've known you long enough to even laugh it off." I shook my head, reaching for the last drop of beer in my can. "Also, I think the fact that you would bite your lip every time a hunk passed us in the hallway was enough for us, or anyone with eyes, to realise your gayness. Even the expectation of shock offends me. We're not stupid." I sighed as the can came up empty. "Sigh, there's nothing left."