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Wilbur broke up with Ace only recently. She dumped him, claiming he only cared for himself and neglected her. Wilbur lashed out and called her selfish, that she should understand that he's still picking himself up after the death of his ex-girlfriend. Things got ugly fast after that.
Good thing they never live together.
It's been six weeks since he last saw the strands of her blue hair anywhere, he didn't expect to find it here of all places, or now at all times.
His friends had forced him to get out of his "mancave" apartment and dragged him to someone's party. He doesn't even know who the fucking Host is.
He downed a shot, and he saw her in all her glory. Blue hair with red and orange streaks that glimmers in the sparkling lights of the room. She's holding a red cup like he used to see in the movies. She's wearing a white jersey that's not his. He couldn't give a shit about that (Liar), but how is she holding a red cup, all the cups inside the room are white. Fuck it, it's not even his business, why should he care?
She's not alone. Another person with long blue hair lean to her side, arms wrapped around her waist. They're giggling together, probably drunk off their ass.
Wilbur drank another shot.
She's flirting with them, hands going to all the places that are too intimate to be just friends.
Another shot.
"Slow down, Wil!" Someone warned him, holding his hand before he chug another shot. He looks at the source of the voice. A dirty blonde with a red jumper and khaki skirt. Sand, his old friend.
"Go away, Sand," He rasped out. Sand looks at him sympathetically.
"You saw Friend and Ace didn't you?" Wilbur scoffs at that. 'Friend'? Really? Their parents must hate them so much to name them like that. He flinches when he could feel someone pinching his side.
"That's rude," He reprimanded him. Sand looks at the crowd and ushers him outside.
"I'm taking you home," He said with an air of finality. Wilbur laughs and stares at Sand with disbelief.
"Take me to dinner first, what the fuck?" Sand kicks his shin, making him whine loudly. They walk to Sand's old car. Wilbur got sat on the front seat, almost immediately falling asleep after hitting the seat. Sand fixes his seatbelt.
"I miss her, man," Wilbur mumbles halfway on the road back. Sand glances at him, his lips pressed to a thin line.
"I know, dude,"
The trip was silent after that, but the tension in the air was so thick; filled with Sand's guilt and Wilbur's sorrow.