Blush Selections - A Series of HS Shorts

Sessions: Part 1

Indigo and Harry. Part 1 of 3.

Harry wasn't that close to Killian. After several shots of tequila, spirited yells over a fierce game of poker, and tunneling vision, the group landed on heading to a gentlemen's club five miles from Killian's house. The idea of a bachelor party incited uncertainty from the beginning, and by the middle of the night, it settled into confirmation. The sharp wind shuffles through his brown hair, blowing strands over his furrowed brow. His eyes watch the shoes of the group before him as he remains behind them, the tracks of prints they leave on the snow. His chin dips into the collar of his coat, his breath exhaling into a fog as he sighs to himself.

The bouncer allows them inside, his eyes following them until they enter the nebulous, warm air inside the dark hallway that leads them to a set of narrow stairs. Donny, another one of Killian's close friends, clenches his fist in excitement, his tone mirrors his zeal as he looks back down at the group. "Fuck yeah!" Harry hears as he gazes up, the group's boisterous mannerisms drowning in the deafening bass of the music that grows unavoidable as they make it to the top of the dark stairs.

Sliding his hands into his pocket, he inhales sharply before following the boys past the crimson curtains. He's never done this. Harry's secluded, introverted nature rouses his well-composed anxiety to radiate to his chest, his heartbeat drumming, the music unsynchronized with his physical unease. Unlike him, Killian and his friends are arduously watching the nude dancers. Harry takes in the details of the environment – the glitter, the fruity perfumes, and flirtatious smiles, avoiding the nude, glistening bodies of curvaceous, toned, and beautiful women. Topless, ankles strapped with thin heels, blond, brown hair, sultry eyes. He inhales deeply again, forcing a grimace that displays his discomfort to disappear from his lips. Just then, Donny points to the bar, insinuating that another round of drinks is imminent.

The condensation builds on the lenses of his glasses as he removes his jacket, sitting on a sofa by the corner of the wide room lit up by neon pink, green, and blue hues from the stage lights. He peels the frame from his face, wiping the lenses on the bottom of his knitted, black sweater. After placing them back on, his numb fingers adjust the white collar of his button underneath. He can see more clearly, taking in his surroundings again as he sits down. The boys are busy gazing around to pay him any mind, chuckling and wryly commenting on the entertainment. Rubbing his hands together, he sits up, tense, ruminating on his choices. His body grows hot in the steam of the air, conducting the heat to the silver cross necklace sitting underneath his clothes. He looks over himself, comforted by the fact that it remains hidden. Shame, is all he thinks about.

"Harry, lighten the fuck up," Killian says suddenly, leaning into his ear so that he's heard. Turning to look at him, Harry swallows down the sour taste in his mouth. It's evident that the alcohol is overpowering him, but Killian's forwardness as he hands him the shot of tequila pressures him into taking it into his weak hands anyway. Killian watches him as he downs the tequila, waiting for Harry to do the same. Seeing his hesitancy, he shouts over the music, "Dude...I know you're super religious, but mate, have a little fun. There are gorgeous fucking women here, naked...women."

Killian and Harry were high school friends, being on the baseball team together. He's known him for a while, both of them now in their late twenties. Nothing but baseball brought them together, kept them together, and allowed them to commune on anything else. There was no sentimental center in that friendship other than baseball. Surprisingly, male friendships are tied by very little, given the shared keenness about a sport. They did not discuss their lives very often, not in overt refusal to disclose the details, but in the absence of any true connection. In Killian's superficial mind, he and Harry were good friends. In Harry's internal architecture, he was simply being good to Killian for even showing up to his bachelor party prior to his wedding day. This was a favor, a performance of solidifying friendship so that he does not disappoint Killian. Otherwise, Harry would rather be at home right now, filling out his psychiatric out-patient intake forms.