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Someone pulled at his arm and he shook them off. Even if they spoke in his ear he wouldn’t be able to hear them. His head was full of the boom of the bass line, a rolling storm in his head that matched his mood. He was pleasantly buzzed, his balance was shot, and his ears would be ringing in the morning, but this was exactly where he needed to be.
Eventually they’d give up pulling at him. Eventually they’d be so fed up with him they’d leave him the fuck alone. He’d been no good for them, so it was time to stop being the point they revolved around. Eventually had to be tonight, even if it meant he made his ears bleed.
He let the music be his pulse point, the alcohol be his brainwave, the knowledge that this was the best thing for them all anchor him in the noise and the stinking heat of the place. He’d already made Georgia cry tonight. He had no evidence of that, but he knew it all the same. He’d know he succeeded if she left him here and didn’t come back to the house.
Pulling again, a body leaning in on him, a woman, not Georgia, feeling for his hand. Then a sharp pain as the she-devil bent his finger back. Taylor. She let go his hand and screamed in his ear and it was more noise and more knowledge and then she was gone and so was his beer, but there was no way to get another. He could never find his way to the bar alone without making a mess of things.
Next time someone touched him it was with enough force to pull backwards. He was dragged away from the stage edge. Security maybe, damn slow to act, that’d been a bonus. Those hands pushed him through the crowd, through a doorway, it was quieter but his ears were ringing. They propped him up against a wall. More than one voice talking at him, but he genuinely couldn’t hear them. He laughed and then his ears cleared and it was Sam holding him upright and Jamie shouting at him.
He tried to struggle free, but Sam spun him face to the wall and wracked an arm up his back. It should’ve hurt more than it did.
“Ready to go home now.” Jamie said. It wasn’t a question.
How did they get here? Georgia must’ve called them. Taylor wouldn’t have wanted to see Jamie.
Sam pushed his arm higher and now it hurt. “Fuck off and leave me alone.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re pouring you in a taxi and taking you home.”
“Take the girls, leave me.”
“The girls have already gone. You think they like seeing you this way? Damn Damon, you’re officially out of control. Man, you have to get this together. Do you want to lose Georgia?”
When he smiled at that they took offence, and he grunted in pain as Sam forced his arm higher. Pain had a way of sobering you up. He was floating but not legless.
“You’re not the only person in the world who doesn’t get what they want. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and shake this off.”
“Fuck you.” He might get a broken arm out of this, not exactly how he’d thought it would play.
“Let him go.”
Georgia! He struggled to get away from Sam, pushing into the pain and off the wall until he remembered it didn’t matter. Better that she see this humiliation too.
“Please let him go.”
Sam’s hands came away. Blood pounded into his elbow and shoulder and he pushed off the wall and turned to face them. “Go home, Georgia. I don’t want you here.”
Sam hissed and shoved him. Jamie said, “Leave it.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Georgia, he doesn’t mean that.” Sam trying to help.
“He knows.” Fuck, that was Angus. He’d have left Moon Blink to come here. He’d be furious.
“Who else is here?” Was Taylor watching this as well? Heather?
“When you wouldn’t come away from the stage, I called Jamie and Sam,” said Georgia.
“I called Angus,” said Jamie, which was something useful from this crap, the brothers were on speaking terms. “And you know what, you don’t deserve any explanations. You’re going home and you’re going to get your head out of your arse and stop doing this shit.”
They could make him leave the club. He didn’t have to make it easy for them. He walked forward, knowing he’d encounter resistance. He met a male hand to his chest.
“Damon, let’s go home.” Georgia calm and rational. That’s not what he needed from her. He turned his face away, stepped to the right, towards what he hoped was the door they’d brought him through. He could follow the sound of the band.
“Damon.” Angus in his face, a hand in his shirt, another at his throat, but gentle, cautious. Still, it stopped him. “Get your shit together.”
He swallowed, closed his eyes. What they all needed him to do was back down, be himself, behave. What he needed them to do was get on with their lives without him. They’d all be better off.
“Get off me.”
