The Sunshine Boy and the Weaver King

Chapter Eight

So, in hindsight, the party was a bad idea, which was unsurprising but nonetheless disappointing. There were bright lights, loud music, and a lot of dancing bodies shoved together. Whoever wasn't grinding on someone was getting a drink or standing with their backs shoves against the wall, on their phones.

Ryan had been out, drinking and dancing, for the past hour. He'd tried to coax Anthony out with him, but one look at Anthony's face and he'd given a smile that was more of a grimace before disappearing. He'd mouthed Sorry, but he didn't look very apologetic with a girl hanging on his arm. Tight dress. High heels. A broad, beautiful grin. Anthony didn't blame him, but he did feel a little, well. Salty. Petty, maybe.

So, for no particular reason, he'd downed several shots and half a beer. (Lie. There was a particular reason, and that reason was that he was panicking and finding it hard to breathe and he needed something to distract him.)

And then he was trashed. He almost thought he was hallucinating when he caught a glimpse of navy blue hair in the crowd. It could be the lights, he told himself.

It was not the lights.

Maddox shoved his way through the crowd, eyes dark and mouth pressed into an angry, thin line, which was to say he looked the same as always.

"Hi," Anthony said, giving a sloppy smile.

Maddox hadn't even seen him until then. His head turned, eyes widening slightly before he shook his head and scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"Ryan. What are you doing here?" Anthony replied. He was still smiling. He couldn't stop. Something about the look on Maddox's face made him want to make him smile, too. And smiles were contagious, right?

"I'm--" Maddox flicked an irritated glance away. "You're wasted. Ryan brought you here, he should take you home."

Anthony shrugged and then nearly lost his balance.

"Go home," Maddox said with a sneer.

Something in Anthony's chest wound tight. Go home. "I don't have a home," he said, smile stretching wider. "Guess you'll have to deal with me."

"I am not--" Maddox took a measured breath. "I'm going to find Ryan. Stay here."

"Why do you even care?" he shot back. "I'm just dumb, stupid Anthony, right?"

Maddox stopped mid-stride and turned back around to say, "Those are synonyms."

The back of Anthony's throat was burning. "Whatever."

Maddox shot him a flat, unimpressed look, and then started to walk again. Someone stepped in front of him.

Anthony couldn't recognize the person-- or the room anymore, actually-- but he could tell from how Maddox suddenly straightened and smoothed his expression that it was someone important. Or just someone he hated. It was hard to tell.

It was a girl, he could see that much. She leaned in, whispered into Maddox's ear, and shoved something into his hands. She looked over at Anthony and giggled. "Who's this?"

"Don't know, don't care," Maddox said, in a completely believable tone.

His chest twisted again. "I'm Anthony."

He sounded so quiet and small. He hated that about himself. Hated it, hated it.

Maddox shot him a warning look, and said something to the girl. She laughed, blew Anthony a kiss, and drifted back into the dancing crowd.

"Drugs?" Anthony guessed.

"I don't do drugs," Maddox said, "and I don't sell them." He looked irritated that Anthony would even ask. He swung to eye the room, then added, "I don't trust you to stay here if I go looking for Ryan."