dig your hole, dig it fast | travis+lydia

[crownless]

[Travis doesn't know why he still comes here. The drinks all suck; the ambiance (if you could call it that) is null; everyone else here is crouched over their drinks as miserably as he is, sulking over his own half-empty beer.

Maybe he just feels sorry for himself. And, well, a shitty night calls for a shitty bar and even shittier beer.]

Jesus fucking Christ.

[Screw it. He drains the rest of the glass and sets it back onto the table with a thunk. Maybe if he has some more it'll start tasting good, or something.]

Comments

[homemademolotov]

[She laughs, and it's not a cute happy popular Lydia laugh, it's choked with tears, although she is pulling herself together against his shoulder. She takes a second, deliberately slowing her breathing, and pulls away, feeling his discomfort.]

Why are you thanking me?

[crownless]

[Uh.

He hadn't really thought of a coherent reason to be thanking her: it's more that he feels like it's something he needed to say. Being asked for it just forces him to stumble for a meaning and oh no he has no idea what to say.]

I-- uh, I don't know. I didn't know what else to say.

[He chuckles awkwardly, to fill the space of the silence.]

[homemademolotov]

[She quirks her eyebrows at him, a little pityingly. He's such a mess. But she's a mess, too. It's no big deal, at least not for tonight.]

Well, thanks for thanking me.

Sorry I got your shoulder wet.

[crownless]

Eh. [He manages a little smile.] It's water. It'll dry.

Sorry you ended up listening to some ranting drunk guy. Fun night, huh.

[homemademolotov]

It was - [She hesitates, then nods.] Better than it could've been.