Precious Metals

"Mikey!" The music was blaring. My ear drums felt like they were going to burst open and crumble into nothing. I pushed past everyone. Low life piece of shits. They were the ones that deserved to get left behind to rot. Not him....God, not him.... If...If I had only been quicker...if I would have listened when he wanted run for the hills....

A figure wobbled unsteadily, hardly balancing on top of the dining room table. Shit. That's Mikey for you. Every time a drop of alcohol hits his blood stream he thinks he's unstoppable. Fucking idiot. I pushed harder through the crowd. The anger was pulsing in my ears, riding the waves of each heart beat.

"MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!!!" Only a few people stopped, bleary eyed. I felt light headed, my breathing came in short breaths. "Just....Move..."

"Hey short stack, take it easy. We're just havin' fun." A drunk man slurred, tripping over his own feet. He clapped his hand on my back. "Want a drink?" He pushed a bottle of vodka into my hands. Hardly any of it had been touched. How the fuck is this guy even drunk? I sniffed over the rim. Spiked. It had to be fucking spiked with something. Little crystals of white pills floated at the bottom.

I threw it back at the guy. "Keep your fucking booze."

"H-Hey Frankie...." Mikey called, nearly slipping. His hair was wild, sticking out at every angle possible, glasses cracked.

I sighed, holding my hand out to him. I just couldn't be mad around him. "Come on Mikes, lets get out of here... You've had enough for one night." With a lopsided grin, he took my hand, climbing down.

"S-Sure whatever...Buzz kill." He slung his arm over my shoulder and I helped him out, past the heated crowd, squeezing in between and under people.

The fresh air stung, it was bound to rain any time. I smiled, ruffling Mikey's hair. "Ya know you love me though."

He snorted, almost falling over. "Yeah right. You're the fucktard that got my brother killed."

I froze, stopping at a street corner. He's just drunk...He doesn't mean it....

He groaned, pushing his glasses further up his nose. I started walking again, this time slower. Mikey was torn up. This was going to be a long night..

Notes

Sorry it is short, and I admit that. But it will get better. I promise.
Bad mood + Writer's block = No Motivation