Chapter 9 (I know I'm jealous, I can't help it)

Mitchel

As if the music couldn't get any louder, it did. But Mitchel didn't mind. It made him feel alive. Refreshed. He took a long deep breath, looking across the night club room. LED lightls flashed from red to blue and then purple, traveling across the room in a fixed circular motion. 

Mitchel slowly sipped on his drink and nibbled on some chips while he watched Molly's dancing circle open up. He had a clear view of his handsome best friend as he grabbed his girlfriend's hands and playfully salsa danced with her. 

He smiled as he imagined himsef in Molly's place. 

It was his birthday and he was wearing a nice buttoned down shirt. He wore sneakers and slacks, and he was more beautiful than he had ever been. Christian was with him and swept him up in his arms and twirled him around. He laughed. The smile on his face could only be measured in miles. Christian lipsynched to some of the lyrics as the club music boomed from the gigantic speakers. Mitchel had his arms aroung his neck just as Molly had hers. He leaned in and Christian took the cue, pushing his lips against his own. They didn't care that they were surrounded by people. PDA was never really a problem for them. A new beat was introduced to the song and the DJ slowly brought in the new one. Red Blood played. Everyone loved Mitchel's song, but Chrstian loved it the most. He told him how much he liked it as he kissed him, the both of them swaying to the music. 

As the song came to a sweet and satisfying end, Christian pulled away and looked at him. His bright green eyes gazed upon his own. "I love you, Mitchel Cave." He whsipered to him. His voice was barely aduible, but he heard it. And that was all he needed. A crooked smile spread onto Christian's face when Mitchel repeated the phrase back to him using his name. They kissed again, and slowly Mitchel was brought out of his daydream. 

Mitchel blinked.  He sat up straighter an looked around him, remembering where he was. Ah. Yes. The club. He searched the dancing crowd for the birthday girl and her boyfriend, finally finding them against one of the walls a little ways off to the side. Molly's tiny figure was pressed agianst the stone. Both of her arms were wrapped around her boyfriend who was bending down to reach her face. 

They were in a full on make-out session. Christian's hands roamed her small frame, briefly stopping at her hips and then moving down to her thighs. Three drunken friends made their way over to them as they danced, blocking Mitchel's vision. He knew he should have given them privacy, but he scrambled to his knees and peeked over the booth's cushion anyway just in time to see Molly lightly push Christian away and say something to him. And then he grabbed her and and they both hurried around the corner to the entrance. 

Though Mitchel had a fair idea of what they were doing, his curoisity got the best of him and he slid out of the booth and scurried after them. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be anyway. All of Molly's friends were too distracted and drunk to notice that she was gone. Clinton and Sydney had eachother. That just left Mitchel alone. 

He weaved his way through the drunken crowd, pushing past groups of horny men and potential one-night stands. Finally he found his way to the entrance of the club, walking past the bar and bathrooms. As he passed the ladies room, he could hear a bunch of woman screaming at someone, saying, "Dont call him back, or I swear to god, I will break your phone!" If Mitchel cared enough about wat they were saying, he probably would have laughed. But he didn't and he could feel a bundle of nerves settling into his stomach. 

Mitchel pushed through the front door, letting it swing shut behind him. He didn't relize how stuffy it was in there until he had the fresh air woking it's way though his lungs. He was hot and tired, but he still walked. He could hear the faint sound of giggling and followed it, turning the corner and heading near the allyway that seperated the club from a convienient store. He peered around the corner when he heard the sound of giggles increase. Christian and Molly were there. He knew it. 

Turn around and go back inside, the voice in his head told him. Mitchel nodded to no one in particular and was about to do so. Then he heard a gasp. He turned around abruptly. Mitchel peered around the corner once more and squnted to see down the ill-lit and dingy alley. He saw them. Molly was pinned against the wall once agan, but this time she wasn't standing. Her legs were wrapped around her boyfriend's hips, her hands on each shoulder. Christian had his hands on the wall on either side of Molly's head, and the both of them were kissing like there was no tomorrow. Every now and then Mitchel could hear a gasp escape either one of their lips, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

As soon as he saw them, his heart dropped. But there he stood, watching them for almost five minutes, frozen in his place. What they were doing hadn't quite registered in his mind. But when it did, he did not know what to do. Mitchel thought about calling Christian's name. But what would that do? It would only interrupt their moment. It would ruin Molly's birthday. Even though he wouldn't have minded doing that, he could aready imagine how upset Christian would be. And after so many days without talking, he coudnt risk that. He just got him back.

Slowly, Mitchel turned away. He walked over to the curb that stood in front of the convineience stoor and sat down, staring at the road. There was no doubt in his mind that Christian and Molly would be doing more than just kissing. 

But what about their kiss? Almost half an hour agao, Christian had him pined on the booth, and he kissed him like he never had before. Not on stage, not in private... It was much too confusing. It hurt Mitchel's brain to think of it all and try to decipher what Christian meant. He thought  he loved him. He thought that it was his way of confessing. But if it was, then why was he still with Molly? Why was he kissing her like a starved man? 

Mitchel hugged his knees and buried his face in his arms. It was too much. Before long, tears began to roll down his cheeks. He didn't even know why he was crying. Sure, he was sad. But that was nothing new. All Mitchel wanted  to do was to go home. So, he sat up a little straighter and pulled out his phone. Mitchel ordered an uber. While he waited, he went to the convieniene store. 

He was pretty sure that it was against the law to sell liquor there, but they did and he bought it. It was cheap and it was small. It would probably make him sick, but that was the least of Mitchel's worries. All he wanted was to forget about what he saw. He couldn't use the stuff he had at the house because Clinton would notice and he'd be in trouble. Mitchel headed home in silence, thinking of Christian and Molly. 

He pulled out his phone and played his song, humming parts of it and simply listening to others. He played it on loop, and eventually the driver looked at him through the mirror. "That's a good song," They said. Mitchel nodded. "What's it called?" He aksed. "Red Blood," Mitchel said. And then, "I made it."

The driver puffed out a breath. "Impressive," He said. "You don't see this kind of talent too much anymore." Mitchel nodded and looked out of the window. They were drawing near to his street. He thanked the driver and got out when they reached the house. As Mitchel walked up the driveway, he swung his little plastic bag and searched for his keys in his pocket. He slid the house key into the lock and kicked the door shut behind him with his foot as he stepped inside. 

He did all of it subconciosly. It was a routine. He locked the door behind him. Tossed his keys onto the island. Headed upstairs. Kicked off his shoes and took off his belt. Fell onto his bed. Staired at the cieling. 

"What does she have that I don't?" Mitchel asked hmself. He stared at his cieling for a long time until he found his answer. Mitchel sat up and chuckled."A vagina," He said because it was a sad truth. Mitchel wasted no time and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out three small bottles of tequila, each of them only about 100 ml per bottle. He didn't even bother getting a shot glass, he just popped open one bottle after another and pulled out his song book from his drawer. 

He wrote down a few words and worked with them as he took large swigs fom his bottle to make a few verses. But he didn't finish. He never finished a song in his black songbook, at least not except Red Blood. 

His few verses were harsh and full of hatred. He wrote about Molly and about how jealous he was of her. She probably didn't even know how lucky she was. And the worst part was that Mitchel couldn't blame her. It wasn't her fault that Christian liked her. It was no ones. People just like who they like, and no one can control it. Mitchel finished his first bottle. He didn't feel anything. He didn't feel drunk, he didn't feel sick, he couldn't even bring himself to hate Molly anymore (although that would come in the morning, he knew). He started on the second one. 

Mitchel could have gotten alcohol poisoning, but he didn't care. He considered lighting up a blunt but figured the alcohol would be enough for one night. All he wanted aside from Christian was to forget. To forget what he saw, to forget the kiss he shared with his best friend, and to forget the throbbing feeling in his heart every time he pictured Christian's lovely face in his mind. 

Mitchel passed out somewhere between drinking the second and third bottle. But in his dreams, he still remembered. He still felt that jealousy that would never escape him. He blamed Molly. She was the reason why Christian didn't want him. It wasn't true, but he'd spent much too long trying to convince himself that it was. He tried to believe it and he was starting to. He envied her and he hated her. Nothing would change that. 

She was the reason why Mitchel couldn't have Christian, just as all the other girls were. He hated her. Them. All of them. Because they took what was his. They always do that. And they always will. Mitchel knew he had to do something about it.