Post by MITCHELL PRESSLEY on Mar 30, 2012 3:47:23 GMT
It wasn't often Mitchie let things bother him for such a long period of time without getting a word in edge-wise about it. But it seemed that the boy couldn't bring himself to speak out against Harrison. It seemed the most he could do there was resign himself to snippy, muttered comments and a roll of the eyes here and there. Maybe it was just that he didn't have the will-power to speak his mind to the other. Maybe it was because he knew Harrison didn't take things with a grain of salt.
Either way, he'd kept his mouth shut tight on the subject of Harry's attitude towards him lately, which left him fuming to himself in his dorm room. This Friday afternoon even, he found himself huffing over it to himself. Tutoring had been yesterday, but he'd think at random points the next day about it and get grumpy all over again.
"Mitchie, you need a night out, is what you need." One of his friends from the dance studio had said, when he'd dropped by to attempt practicing his latest routines. At first, he'd turned them down, prepared to sit at his dorm and sulk a while over a container of Ben & Jerry's. But on second thought, it'd be nice to push his recent frustrations from his mind with a little fun. Why let this ruin his Friday night?
So, that night, he got himself ready for a few martinis and maybe karaoke, leaving his dorm to walk down to the parking lots where his friends were waiting to pick him up. He went along with the fun, smiling, giggling, and at some point he really started to believe he was having fun, and the frustration was gone.
Then they got to the bar downtown, where Mitchie proceeded straight to the bar, perching himself on a stool and waiting for his girls to bring in the drinks. Unfortunately having girl friends meant going to bars with very few gay men to woo into buying drinks. But they brought in enough for everyone, and Mitchie drank enough for everyone.
Halfway through the evening, already tipsy as could be, Mitchie excused himself from the bar, saying he wasn't feeling well. In reality, that drunken mind of his had gotten an idea. He managed to get the address to the dorms pretty accurately, although he ended up a street down and had to maneuver himself across the intersection to reach his destination.
Stumbling into the elevator, his finger hovered over the floor numbers. He'd only been to Harrison's dorm once- sober, and briefly. He was pretty sure it was a floor above his own, and so he took the chance, pressing the button and waiting until the elevator came to a stop on the floor. Taking the left hall on another guess, he moved along the dorms, trying to look for a number that looked at all familiar in his hazy vision.
One number finally stopped him, and he stood in front of the door for a moment before hitting the door with his palm a few times. He still wasn't sure even of what he was going to say once Harry opened the door- if Harry opened the door- if this was Harry's dorm.
Outfit: hereee