Finding August

Chapter Eight

Vincent grimaced as he took another mouthful of alcohol. Jane, the bartender shot him a worried look that he ignored while taking another mouthful of the bitter drink.

She sighed, running a hand through her dyed blue hair before deciding to leave Vincent to his devices.

Vincent didn't usually drink. He was just frustrated at the moment and wasn't sure in what other way he could drown in it without alcohol. After finishing his glass he rested his head on the counter's surface, allowing the noise from the drinking men and women in the background to buzz at his ears. Maybe having four bottles of alcohol at a go hadn't been a good idea. He was already feeling dizzy and nauseous, but it wasn't close to how horrible August had been making him feel.

He laid there for the next hour or so, waking up abruptly and then falling back to sleep whenever someone shook or drew the stool beside him. Someone had probably picked his pocket a time or two, but his semiconscious self hadn't been in the right state to react accordingly.

"Wake up, we're about to close," the bartender said, drumming her fingers against the counter's surface next to Vincent's rested head. The young man sat up, his eyes bloodshot and throat dried up. He gave the bartender an uneasy look, only to receive a smile in return.

"We're closing in the next thirty minutes and you're the only one here," Jane muttered, looking at her friend with partial pity. She knew his state had something to do with August in one way or the other. She thought he'd have been better after a few months when the artist left, but apparently, she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Oh, you're closing?" Vincent muttered, realizing that the once noisy bar was now quiet, apart from the buzzing TV at the corner with faulty signaling.

"Did something happen?" Jane asked in a whisper as she leaned into Vincent's figure. Vincent gave her a blank stare before looking down at the stained counter. Was he really that easy to read?

"Yeah," he mumbled, running a hand through his coarse hair. He wasn't sure why August was having this effect on him. He wanted his sanity back.

"Look, I'll be out soon so if you're willing to wait for me so we can have a talk, be my guest. A problem shared is half solved you know," Jane said before leaning off the counter. Vincent nodded at his friend, watching her smile before she excused herself.

Jane was out soon after. She smiled at Vincent, motioning for him to follow her out. He complied, leaving the bar and walking out into the cold night with Jane.

Vincent felt his hairs rise as they got outside. He hadn't expected to stay in the bar that long and the thin shirt and jean trousers he had on were not the idle clothing for a cold night. Jane was in a thick woolly jacket and only gave Vincent an apologetic as they trekked to their neighborhood.

"So?" Jane started as Vincent rubbed his hands together in an attempt to create heat. He looked over at Jane briefly, letting a low sigh escaped his lips as their feet made crunching sound against the wet granite beneath their shoes.

"I checked my email," Vincent started as they continued down the road. The street lights were getting dimmer and dimmer as they left the corner of busy establishments for the calmer residential streets. The street lights soon disappear completely, and they had to make do with the torchlight on Jane's phone so that they could keep going.

"I saw that August had been sending me emails. I got excited. It was only human of me, you know?" Vincent continued, looking over to Jane for a reaction — any reaction. Jane just nodded at his words, fumbling with her phone as until the dim light from its torch became brighter as they continued to walk.

"I emailed him back, and I didn't get a reply," Vincent continued as he bit his bottom lip. The memory of what he was about to say was eating at him. The worst part was that he wasn't sure what he should be thinking, how he should be reacting.

"Just this evening I was watching the new and I saw August acting all comfortable around this girl, holding onto her hand and everything..." Vincent trailed with a short laugh. "I'm not sure what to think but my brain has sort of taken a toll of its own and interpreted it as 'we're over.' I can't just get that out of my mind." Vincent muttered as he rubbed his hands over his arms. His eyes were stinging and blurring his vision that was already under strain due to the lack of light.

"What did his emails say?" Jane asked, pulling Vincent out of his thoughts. He rubbed his burning eyes, blinking violently as he tried to focus on what Jane had said.

"He wrote to me... saying how much he missed me. You know all that sappy junk..." Vincent trailed, feeling his chest warm up from the memory alone. What they said and what Vincent had interpreted from August's lack of a reply confused him. How could August say he missed him then ignore an opportunity to talk to him?

"When was the last message sent?" Jane asked, running a hand through her dyed air. Her blonde roots were starting to be more visible, creating a sharp contrast with the metallic blue of the rest of her hair.

"A day ago," Vincent answered in a hushed tone. He wasn't sure how many emails he'd received in total but they were a lot. August must have been sending them regularly. Vincent started to wonder if his decision to reply to one of them had been the deal breaker. If he hadn't emailed August back he would probably still be receiving emails from him.

"What do you think? Besides does August even date women?" Jane asked as they came to a turn. They were nearing the apartment Jane shared with two other people.

"I don't know," Vincent answered honestly. He couldn't exactly think straight with the headache he was having but he was sure he was August's first boyfriend — first significant other generally. Although August had been blunt about his feelings there had been a sort of innocence and ignorance attached to them. He'd had an unconscious willingness to let Vincent lead and show him what he didn't know.

"Then it's an open question then?" Jane muttered as they stopped at the path to her apartment. She looked towards her place and then at Vincent. "Are you sure you can make it to your apartment without falling over?" she asked, eyeing Vincent whose mind was drifting from semi to full consciousness.

Vincent shook his head, if Jane left with her phone he wouldn't be able to see in the darkness for starters. Plus, he was already disoriented and wasn't willing to try thinking through a headache.

"No," he muttered, making his reply vocal this time. "I'm sorry that I'm asking you to do this but can you follow me back to my place?"

"Sure." Jane shrugged, turning away from the path that led to her apartment. She came up to Vincent, slipping her hand into his.

"Come on," she muttered, pulling the young man into the road with her.

Jane chattered away to him as they made their way to Vincent's apartment. Vincent couldn't catch half of what she said, but at least her chattering kept him awake.

"Where are your keys?" she asked as they got to the entrance of Vincent's place. She took her hand away from his, giving him an expectant look. He squinted, biting his bottom lip.

"Pockets," he muttered eventually as he tried to steady his vision so there weren't three of Jane anymore. Jane nodded, sticking her hand into his pockets one at a time. She finally got his keys, fumbling through the bunch for the one that opened the tattoo parlor's door. Vincent watched Jane try key after key but he was more concerned with staying awake and not falling over than pointing out the right key.

The door soon clicked open and Jane's chuckle of success soon echoed through the silent street. She led Vincent in, turning on the nearest switch before turning to face her friend.

"I'm leaving. We'll talk later, okay?" Jane said, slipping the keys into Vincent's palm. She wrapped his fingers around the cold pieces of metal before patting his shoulder and leaving through the door.

Vincent let out a small groan when the door shut behind her. The pounding in his head intensified and messed up the vision he was already working with. He needed water and rest- lots of rest. He started to think that maybe going to wallow in his own self-pity hadn't been a good idea.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes before feeling about the room. He somehow made it to his apartment upstairs without tripping on air.

Vincent groaned in pain when he landed on the mattress of his bed. Thinking about August was just too mentally exhausting.