thirteen

                                        

                                              
MARCH
"ARE YOU DRUNK YET?"
The red moonlight cast a net over the front lawn and the fresh, dewy grass was flooded with pink light. The streetlamps glowed with distant, burning balls of orange and there were rogue clouds in the dark blue sky, white froth collecting in stray patches, floating and splitting away from each other. The leaves on the trees were such a deep green that they looked black, and they trembled and shook with every breeze; sudden and sharp and ephemeral. 
Isaac was sitting on the front porch with an empty glass in his hands, his hands between his knees and his head tilted up towards the sky. He watched the clouds with glazed, starry eyes and scratched the bridge of his nose, sniffling against the cold and remaining entirely still against the wind. He looked into his empty glass, then back towards the sky and blinked slowly.
Hadley watched him steadily, setting his own empty glass between his feet on a lower step as the clouds dissipate and vanish. Their isolation had made him aware of himself and the beginning of his drunkenness, and he had the feeling of being both tired and slightly tipsy.
"Only a little," he mumbled, his voice slow and thick.
Isaac nodded firmly. When he spoke, his words tumbled clumsily out of him, his usual cadence interrupted by thoughtful pauses, his lips barely parting. He put his glass down slowly, intentionally, so he could use his hands. "I don't feel drunk-drunk. I feel, like, more than tipsy but less than drunk." 
Most people were still inside Jensen's, but the peak had passed and the energy had shifted. By the time Isaac was discreetly gesturing to him to come outside, the music was softer and lower, the games of pool were calmer, more intentional, and most people broke off into smaller groups, lost in long, winding conversations. 
Jensen had been sprawled out on a sofa with his arm around Charlotte and, when she momentarily got up for another drink, Hadley quietly asked him where Spencer was, but he hadn't known.
"Yeah," he agreed with a series of long, slow nods. "Exactly. I feel... I feel sleepy. Heavy." He dropped his shoulders and curved his spine, falling into a slouched, balled position.
When Isaac mimicked him with exaggerated movements, he snickered and the sound of his snickering made Isaac begin to laugh, which made him start laughing, too.
"I feel... heavy," Isaac imitated with a dramatic drop of his posture, and Hadley, though he was sure it wasn't that funny, was suddenly seized by laughter, throwing his head back and feeling an old tremble in his chest. 
"You asshole!" He cried, pressing the back of his index fingers against his closed eyes as he laughed, his mouth spilling into a grin. "I'm trying to communicate. This is serious!"
But when he turned towards him, still grinning, he accidentally kicked his glass over with his foot and Isaac, for some reason, burst out laughing again.
Hadley shoved him and he fell towards the porch, putting his hand flat at his side to stop himself from being pushed all the way down, and grinned at him, his eyes glittering. "Why do you feel heavy?" He pushed two index fingers hard into Hadley's arm, his lips falling into a small smile. "What's wrong?"
He shrugged his shoulders, his laughter relaxing and an almost smile slipping onto his lips, and forced himself to look at Isaac when he said, "Don't you feel far away from me?"
"No," he frowned, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it as if to prove a point. "You're here, aren't you?"
"That's not what I mean," he insisted, shaking his head, concentrating on the weight of his hand. He was trying to balance his voice and speak slowly, but his control kept slipping away from him and he spoke in a mumble that he couldn't quite break. "I mean, don't you– Don't you feel far away as in, like–" He stopped and looked up at the dark, empty sky. "Don't you ever feel like maybe you don't know me?"