Even in his drunken state, there's a sudden tension that he can't ignore when Mick freezes at the question he'd asked seconds ago. The tension is thick enough to choke on and makes everything in his chest and his stomach tight.
Something isn't right. The easy, relaxed warmth of the rest of the night is gone, replaced by a cold anxiety he can't shake.
His mind is still a little too muddled by the alcohol to make everything click into the right place too quickly, but he knows he broke it. The tranquility of the night is gone and it's his fault.
He has to fix it. First, he has to figure out how he broke it, then he has to--
Oh. Oh, God. Oh, God, he's an idiot.
The anxiety of not knowing is quickly replaced with a slam! of panic that eats almost instantly through the fuzziness of the alcohol. "Wa- wait, I-- Mick..." He might have forgotten how words work, suddenly, but he scrambles to sit up in a proper position, turning to face the older boy, hands up in what's usually a motion of surrender, but might be more in line with a gesture of 'hold on' in this case.
He shifts onto his knees, one hand finding one of Mick's, messily threading their fingers together. His mouth works wordlessly for a moment before he finds his voice again--words are a little hard to put in order when he's this panicked. "Don't be mad... please..."
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Date: 2018-05-03 01:29 am (UTC)Even in his drunken state, there's a sudden tension that he can't ignore when Mick freezes at the question he'd asked seconds ago. The tension is thick enough to choke on and makes everything in his chest and his stomach tight.
Something isn't right.
The easy, relaxed warmth of the rest of the night is gone, replaced by a cold anxiety he can't shake.
His mind is still a little too muddled by the alcohol to make everything click into the right place too quickly, but he knows he broke it. The tranquility of the night is gone and it's his fault.
He has to fix it.
First, he has to figure out how he broke it, then he has to--
Oh.
Oh, God.
Oh, God, he's an idiot.
The anxiety of not knowing is quickly replaced with a slam! of panic that eats almost instantly through the fuzziness of the alcohol. "Wa- wait, I-- Mick..." He might have forgotten how words work, suddenly, but he scrambles to sit up in a proper position, turning to face the older boy, hands up in what's usually a motion of surrender, but might be more in line with a gesture of 'hold on' in this case.
He shifts onto his knees, one hand finding one of Mick's, messily threading their fingers together. His mouth works wordlessly for a moment before he finds his voice again--words are a little hard to put in order when he's this panicked. "Don't be mad... please..."