As the clock neared midnight, the jaw-dropping performances that the town’s gay bar had to offer were winding to a close. Zexion watched as the final dancer made her way off the stage and disappeared behind a layer of shimmering curtains. She was good, but none of the drag queens could compete with the skill and beauty of Gracie Dahlia. There was no debating which act he had enjoyed the most that evening. It was too bad he hadn’t caught sight of her since she left the stage twenty odd minutes ago. It had been over a month since they’d last spent time together and he couldn’t help but wonder if Marluxia had forgotten about him completely.
He woudn’t be the first.
The heat of two tall Yuenglings had given him just enough energy to stick around for the closing act. Just drunk enough to be social, but not wasted enough to be incapacitated – it was a nice level to be at on an average night, but Zexion wasn’t feeling satisfied yet. He wanted to really drink. He wanted to make it a good night. He wanted to forget about Lemerre and the rest of the bullshit plaguing his thoughts.
Why else would he be here?
The reader finished off his tall glass of beer and turned his attention back to the bartender.
“I’ll close my tab,” he grunted. “Zexion Crowthe.” He slid the man his debit card and sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. The last thing he wanted to do was stumble out of the bar with nowhere to go but the lonely confinement of his bed and the inevitable company of his personal library – but did he have any other choice?