the party scene -- OPEN

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy used to be a skater, back in the day. He was a good one too. One of the best. Everyone had said so. They all had believed that Andy McLaughlin was going to be famous, going to be rich, going to go pro. But, he hadn’t. Andy had loved taking drugs too much to give it up, and one day he had taken a drug which, coincidentally, is now illegal, and he had attempted a skateboarding trick. The trick went horribly wrong and he broke his leg and shattered his knee.

It seems unbelievable but Andy managed to walk home on his broken leg and shattered knee because he was so high that he didn’t feel pain. He woke up half way through the night and realised that he was in desperate pain and he shouted and screamed until his mother helped him down three flights of stairs and took him to the hospital. He was told that his knee was seriously hurt and he could never skateboard again. He hadn’t listened, of course, but after a couple of failed attempts to skate which resulted in a permanent limp, Andy gave up on the idea of skating.

Decks was as close as Andy got to reliving his skater dreams, he loved seeing the kids skating around in the hall, he loved spotting the talented among them and laughing at the falls. He had first got involved with the Warehouse through Decks when he was fifteen and he still hadn’t left. Just then, Andy saw someone – either they were new or Andy just didn’t recognise them – and he went into trainee-youth-worker mode and went over to talk to this person, “Hey!” He enthused, “How’s it going?” He smiled into the face of the other person and waited for a response.


wordcount;; three hundred

[drydan spencer]

It felt like an age since Drydan had bothered his ass coming to Decks. Skating had never been his thing. That had been pretty clear the first time he'd stepped on a board and fallen flat on his back; a performance that was repeated on every occasion he had dared to try again. Dry had never really seen the appeal in it anyway. The only reason he'd even tried it in the first place was currently standing on the other side of the room shoving his overeager, ruggedly handsome face into some bewildered pre-teen's.

Andy McLaughlin. Now, a skateboard under his feet was a very different story. It was like moving art; a thing to behold. Not that Andy needed to be in contact with a mobile plank of wood for Drydan to have trouble keeping his gaze decent. Drydan sauntered his way across the hall, dodging a beginner whose face was meeting the floor once again, making the total fail count one too many times for any chance they would be seeing him again next week. But that was just the way it worked. Kids came, kids went. Some stayed for years; others for a matter of minutes. Drydan himself was one of the former. He started at the Warehouse at the ripe old age of nine in Massive and had forgotten to leave.

"I, uh, I was-" the unsuspecting kid was muttering back at Andy's expectant grin from beneath a fringe one part hair, four parts grease and low self-esteem.
"And that's just super, it's great to have you," Drydan chimed in, placing a careful hand on Andy's arm. "It's great to have you, if you need a hand just give us a yell," he smiled brightly and gently guided Andy away. "You were doing it again," he murmured not unkindly, carefully removing his hand from the solid, sure warmth of Andy's forearm. Everything he did around Andy was careful. Carefully careless. There was no other way around it. "Some people just aren't ready for that amount of cheer at this time on a Monday," he commented evenly with a smirk.

word count; threesixnine.

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy always felt discouraged when he spoke to the youth of today. He used to be so friendly and so outgoing when he was young – he couldn’t remember being so awkward or so unwilling to converse with a practical stranger. Well, that was a lie. He could. Andy had been a nightmare towards older people – people who had any sort of authority over him were automatically his enemy. He was just one of those teenagers who hated the world and had no problem with showing everyone. He didn’t like to think of himself that way though; he liked to pretend he had been a very amiable teenager.

Andy whipped around to see the smiling face of his best friend who had joined him in his attempt to ambush the new kid with friendship. Drydan put his hand on Andy’s arm and Andy covered it with his own hand and smiled at the kid encouraging. “Just anything,” He affirmed when Drydan advised the kid to yell if he needed anything. The kid shuffled off just as Drydan began to steer Andy away from the situation and told him that he were being too forward. He took his hand away and Andy nodded slightly, “I just can’t understand why somebody wouldn’t want to interact with me!” Andy stressed and pretended to pout before hooking his thumbs through the loops of his jeans and leaning against the wall.

“How’ve you been, chum?” Andy asked his best friend, arching a thick eyebrow at him. “You haven’t been to Decks in a while.” He commented, leaning his head back against the wall and looking at his friend’s distinctive features, watching his expressions. Decks had always been Andy’s favourite of The Warehouse’s clubs. It was where he had felt at home for a long old time. He’d first met an adult who he didn’t want to disappoint at Decks in the form of Corey Briar, who had been the visionary for Decks. They had bonded over Andy’s talent and Corey’s enthusiasm. When Andy destroyed his knee, he had lied to Corey as to how it had happened – how could he tell his idol that he had destroyed his future in skating with drugs? He just couldn’t.


wordcount;; three hundred and seventy

[drydan spencer]

Drydan couldn't help but marvel at the bizarre juxtaposition of childlike enthusiasm and haunted experience that essentially was Andy. How could a person be two such opposing forces and not be torn apart? Just another part of the mystery that was his best friend. Just another thing to worship alongside the ground Andy walked on.

"Oh, you know, just sort of...busy, I guess," he muttered, avoiding Andy's gaze. Andy was doing that quirky thing with his eyebrow. That thing that told Drydan he didn't really need to say what he was thinking; Andy probably knew already, anyway. That thing that came of spending your childhood with a person, that thing which would, from anyone else, be down-right creepy. That thing which made his heart flutter like a particularly dim bumblebee at the window. "Besides, I'm useless at all this skating crap anyway," He shrugged and sank down against the wall, absent-mindedly pulling out his Zippo and flicking it, running a finger closer and closer to the flame, as was his nervous habit.

Not that he had much to be nervous about. Because despite Andy's seemingly clairvoyant abilities he was totally oblivious to Drydan's desire to run his fingers through Andy's hair, pull him close and - No. Just no. "Sonofabitch," he exclaimed, dropping the lighter as it became apparent his finger did not approve of being held in the blue of the flame. Bloody Andy, being bloody distracting with his bloody quirky eyebrow thing, Dry thought darkly, sucking his finger which had turned an unpleasant red. "So, what're we up to this weekend?" He fished for a subject to distract Andy from his own lack of concentration.

word count; enough(:

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy looked around the room at all of the young teens skating to and fro, the young girls all standing at the walls watching the skater boys, the occasional few taking to boards and skating well. He looked over at his friend and smiled at him. He seemed distracted or on edge tonight. He’d seemed like that a lot of nights recently. Andy was growing worried about Drydan – what made him this way? He supposed he should just know instinctually after all these years, but he was scared to guess, scared to get it wrong and offend him.

“Well, we’ve missed you around here.” Andy told him with a slight smirk. He didn’t really know if he was saying ‘we’ as in all of the volunteers and youth workers or if he was using the royal we that he had a habit of using every now and again. Drydan seemed irritated by the fact that he wasn’t a skater but it had been a fact that had never annoyed Andy. In fact, Andy had kind of liked it. Drydan was good at everything. Literally, everything. He was up to the same sort of crap at the weekend that Andy did and he still got incredible results in all his exams, he was usually flocked by girls and he had an extremely high alcohol tolerance that Andy had always envied and respected. Skating was Andy’s thing. It was the only thing he’d ever been remarkable at. “I’m no good at skating anymore either,” Andy said a little too sadly for his own liking.

He coughed slightly and watched Drydan play with the flame of his lighter for a few moments, almost in a trance. He watched his friend burn himself. Drydan swore and stuck his finger into his mouth. “Awwh, Drydy,” Andy said in a baby-talk voice as he looked down at his friend, “Shall I kiss it better?” He asked, bending towards the other boy and puckering his lips overdramatically and then laughing at his own joke. “What’re we up to this weekend?” Drydan asked and Andy laughed, “What we do every weekend, Drydan.” He said in his best Brain impression, “Try to take over the world!” He laughed out loud and then slid down the wall so he was level with his friend, he kept his head tilted back and looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye.


wordcount;; four oh two
occ comment;; he's so accidentally cruel :')

[drydan spencer]

“Awwh, Drydy,” Andy said in a lisping, baby voice, “Shall I kiss it better?” As he watched Andy make ridiculous kissy faces at him, Drydan could feel his heart preparing to tear itself free, climbing out his mouth and slapping Andy to death with the tattered remains of Drydan's aorta. Or that might just be the weed he'd smoked earlier. He snorted with laughter at the thought. It was easier to laugh. It was that or cry, and that would undoubtedly raise questions. Not that he hadn't dealt with such questions before, fobbing Andy off with tales of a bad trip or such. He was quite the pro at fabrications when it came to vacant expressions or odd reactions.

“What we do every weekend, Drydan.” Andy was retorting in his best Brain impression, “Try to take over the world!” Cackling to himself, Andy slid to the floor beside Drydan and it was all Dry could do to keep laughing and stop himself recoiling. "Dude, everyone knows I'm the Brain of the operation!" He retorted with mock rage, punching Andy lightly in the arm. He could feel Andy watching him still. He seemed to have an obsession with eye contact these days. Maybe he was on something new. One of these days all Andy's blood was going to be replaced by a weird cocktail of drugs and his eyes were going to turn purple...It was at this point in his bizarre train of thought that Drydan realised he was staring vacantly into space and Andy was still looking at him. Drydan could practically feel a question forming on his friend's lips, so he blurted out instead, "Will the delightful Mrs McLaughlin be joining us?" Raising an eyebrow and turning slightly so he was finally meeting Andy's gaze, keeping his own casual. Or as casual as he could be with the bitch floating around his brain, poisoning his thoughts. And no, he hadn't meant Andy's mother.

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word count; threethreethree.

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy laughed out loud at Drydan’s proclamation that he would be the Brain of the operation instead of Andy. He supposed it was true, Drydan was by far a lot more intelligent than Andy was. “Why am I always labelled the ‘insane one’?” He asked and jutted his bottom lip out for a couple of seconds. Then he laughed and looked at the side of Drydan’s face. He had such a strong profile. Andy had always been jealous of the fact that Drydan’s neck and face were completely separate entities – he didn’t have the chicken neck that Andy had. Sometimes Andy wondered why Drydan didn’t look him in the eye. Andy had only become invested in eye-contact recently. It was partially due to his youth worker training that stressed the importance of eye-contact in communication and partially due to the drugs he ingested every weekend making him paranoid that people were lying to him. However, Andy had been against eye-contact for a long time due to drugs – he believed people could look into his eyes and see all his secrets.

Suddenly Drydan asked about “Mrs McLaughlin” – aka, Andy’s girlfriend Pippa. He chortled slightly, “She should be, man.” Then he looked around and leant towards his friend and added, “I think this weekend is the one!” in a hushed and hurried voice. He grinned at his friend excitedly and then leant back against the wall. This year Andy had been struck with the fearful realisation that he was half way to becoming the 40-year-old Virgin and since then he’d been on a mission to correct this potentially fatal error. He had met Pippa through The Warehouse and it had been love – or perhaps lust – at first sight. It was even better when she didn’t reject him. Three months later, he felt like he was on the brink of becoming a man in the eyes of society. He looked back to his friend and highly anticipated his reply. Drydan had come out the side of this gateway to manhood long ago, or so Andy believed, and Andy often felt envious of his best friend and he craved his approval of the match. Andy had the feeling, however, that Drydan didn’t particularly like Pippa but at least that meant Drydan wouldn’t try to steal Pippa away from him.


wordcount;; three hundred and eighty five

[drydan spencer]

"I think this weekend is the one!" Andy exclaimed and Drydan would later take pride in the fact that he didn't projectile vomit all over Andy's stupid smug face. By all means his casually derisive response of, "About time, virgin boy," deserved some sort of academy award. Officially the only positive Drydan had ever seen in Andy dating Pippa Doherty was gone. Drydan had made the assumption that she was as prudent as she looked and that there was no way Andy was going there any time soon. Apparently he'd been sorely mistaken. So the bitch decided it wasn't enough to have taken the majority of Andy's attention and time for the past three months, but now she was going to take that too?

His rant against her and the horse she rode in on raged internally, but externally he just inclined his head and adopted a snobbish accent, "my congratulations, old sport, on your timely membership to the club," and upon that he whipped out his mobile and text Leah with less thought than it took to keep breathing. This was how it went. Andy ripped him to shreds without even realising and he went fluttering to Leah in hopes of some cello-tape. It also helped him avoid Andy's expectant gaze. They both knew he was looking for some sort of sign that Drydan was impressed with him, or proud of him, or something. But he just couldn't give it. Acceptance he could do. Poking fun and messing about? No bother. But encouragement? Support? No. He needed to steel himself for that first. That sort of resolve and strength he usually found in the warmth of Leah's arms and fierce kisses. Or those of whoever happened to be available.

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word count; threeohfive

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy took little comfort in Drydan’s almost stoic reaction to his declaration. He was expecting something a bit more... like tips? No, not tips, that would be creepy. Tips was too far. “Not all of us have the advantage of being as handsome as you!” Andy retorted with a short-lived laugh. He scratched his eyebrow and leant back against the wall again, moving away from Drydan and his own feeling on inadequacy. He could never admit it to Drydan, but Andy was afraid. He was scared that he wouldn’t do it right, or he’d do something to embarrass himself immensely. Or he’d hurt her or she would be traumatised. But how do you express that sort of anxiety to a friend who hasn’t dealt with it in almost half a decade? “Women just fall at your feet, you dirty dog.” He growled, he was jealous and it was obvious. Andy was attractive, but he didn’t have the sort of pulling power that Drydan had. Usually he just clammed up around girls, too afraid of rejection to risk it. It had been different with Pippa, though. Everything was different with Pippa.

Andy laughed at Drydan’s follow up statement and just as he went to offer Drydan his hand for a brisk handshake, Drydan took out his mobile phone and began tapping furiously at the keys. No doubt he was texting Leah, his ... you couldn’t call Leah his girlfriend, as such. She was a bit more like a booty call. “Quite.” He responded, in an equally posh accent, he scratched his chin and thought about Leah. He quite liked her but at the same time, he was kind of unnerved by her. She was intense, or something like that. He never knew what to say to her. She was intelligent – a university student – and Andy barely ever knew what to say. He glanced at Drydan and asked, “Is Leah coming out on Saturday?” He arched his eyebrow unintentionally and looked at his best friend with his head tilted towards the wall but continuing to attempt to catch his eye.


wordcount;; three hundred forty eight

[drydan spencer]

Drydan immediately regretted not being able to be more supportive about the whole thing. He could tell Andy was a little bit hurt by his short response, but being the trooper that he was he didn't show it for long. That was the thing about Andy. Nothing seemed to effect him for long. If he was knocked down, it always looked as if he just got straight back up again and moved on to the next adventure. Drydan never found it quite so simple. He knew Andy well enough to know that he didn't either, but he could carry on as if that was true and as Drydan had already established if you could pretend like it wasn't true then it was as good as not. Drydan took a deep breath.

"Look, don't freak out about it or anything. It's really not that big a deal. I mean, she loves you, or whatever," the words tasted like poison. But they were what his best friend needed. So they were what had to come out of his mouth. Even if they were stripping away his insides. As for the question of Leah. Leah was quite the question mark in his life. Half closest friend, half casual hook-up. "If she feels like it, I guess. I mean, you know, she might have uni stuff to do or something." Drydan never quite felt comfortable discussing her with Andy, for many reasons. Mostly he got the distinct impression that at times Andy thought about as much of her as Dry did of Pippa, which was totally unfair because he didn't have the excuse of being hopeless in love with a certain someone. She really was great, so on the ball and so damn smart. If Drydan knew Andy like he knew he did, then it was quite obvious that at times Andy felt inadequate by comparison. Not that he had any reason to, but telling him as much was risky territory. "I'll ask her." Drydan finally settled on.

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word count; threefournine.

[andy mclaughlin]

As if by magic, Drydan was suddenly telling Andy everything he wanted to hear. Drydan had a way of always coming through for him, even at the last moment. He looked at his friend and hoped that his eyes were saying everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. Andy duly noted the fact that he said “she loves you, or whatever.” ‘or whatever’ being the key term in this phrase. Drydan didn’t seem to believe in teenage love, a cynicism that Andy had completely understood until he’d met Pippa. She was so incredible, so strong, so beautiful. She was intoxicating to him. Like pills or something.

The conversation turned to Leah and Andy felt his stomach tighten a little bit. She always had to be so casual, so last minute. Everything was up in the air with her. There was always a maybe when it came to Leah Thompson and sometimes it irritated Andy but he couldn’t quite work out why – everyone he knew was like that, but it was only annoying when Leah did it. “Yeah, uni comes first.” He said, trying very hard to suppress the sarcasm that was bubbling inside him. He always thought that Drydan could do better – have someone who really loved him. But he knew that Drydan didn’t want that. He didn’t want one of those clingy girlfriends who was needy, where as Andy liked to feel needed, liked to be appreciated and texted.

Andy scratched his chin and cast his eyes back towards the hall while Drydan texted Leah. He watched the teenagers whiz to and fro and Andy found himself bitterly wishing that he could join them. Why had he been so stupid so long ago? Why had he ruined the only thing he had ever been good at? He saw a kid face plant and he laughed out loud, “There’s you five years ago.” He told Drydan, pointing to the kid and chortling to himself. “Man, fancy going?” He asked suddenly, “I’d love a spliff.” He explained his sudden desire to leave and watched his best friend for a reaction.


wordcount;; three hundirt and forty nine

[drydan spencer]

Drydan saw the relief in Andy's face and it was almost worth the unpleasant sensation of bile creeping up the back of his throat. Almost? Who was he kidding. If it helped Andy he'd cut of his own arm without anaesthetic. Some would call that a dependency issue, possibly reason to seek psychoanalysis. Drydan thought that simply meant those people hadn't witnessed Andy's smile. It was like a Siren's call. Drydan's boat had been dashed on the rocks more times than he could count, and he had no doubt that it would happen again. But for the honour of one of Andy's crooked grins, it was totally worth it.

A low chorus of "ooooh" went round the room as that same sucker he dodged only minutes before hit the deck particularly hard. “There’s you five years ago.” Andy commented with a wicked cackle and Drydan couldn't help but agree. "Shouldn't we...uh, help him or something?" he wondered as the kid didn't pop back up like he had previously. Andy, however, didn't seem to be paying attention, “Man, fancy going?” He asked suddenly, “I’d love a spliff.”

Gradually the lemming appeared to be coming to and as offensive as Drydan felt it was that Andy paid so little attention to him, he kind of agreed. Leah didn't appear to be getting back to him any time soon, so he needed something to dull the piercing edges of the image of that tramp's skirt on Andy's bedroom floor. "Yeah, why not." bouncing to his feet and shaking the stiffness out of his left leg, Drydan slipped his lighter back into his pocket and extended a helping hand to Andy. "I think I left my papers by the duck pond this morning though," he warned, although he didn't doubt Andy would have it covered.

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word count; threeonetwo

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy grinned lazily as Drydan asked if they should help the kid who had fallen over, having been a skater himself, Andy had always that was the most painful part of falling – the bit when everyone thought you were incapable of helping yourself. “He’ll be grand.” Andy told his best friend decisively and sure enough the boy got to his feet a few moments later. Andy scratched his leg and then rubbed his permanently damaged knee almost unconsciously. It didn’t hurt him, rubbing it was just a habit. He began to arrange himself to stand and Drydan offered him his hand which he gladly accepted. He clasped his friends hand and pulled it towards himself as he pulled himself up.

“I think I left my papers by the duck pond this morning though.” Drydan informed him, Andy pretended to be offended and took a step back, “You got high without me?” He pretended to be hurt but he knew that it happened a lot. He didn’t wait for Drydan every time he wanted a spliff. “Don’t worry, man, I’ve got Marilyn.” He produced his tin that had a silhouette of Marilyn Monroe holding her skirt down. It contained all of his stuff; bag of weed, skins, lighters. He grinned at Drydan and led the way towards the door, “We needa shoot on.” He told Corey Briar the youth worker as they passed him. Corey arched an eyebrow and shook his head, “Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.” Corey growled, under his breath. He was still angry that Andy took drugs. But what else did he have, now that he didn’t have skating?

Andy led the way to the park across the road and sat on a park bench. He looked at his friend through the dim twilight and smiled slightly. Opening Marilyn he found a joint that he had rolled earlier in the day and he groaned with happiness. He always hated rolling, it took so long and was so tedious. He lit the end of it and took four, slow, long draws before passing it to his best friend. “This is the life.” He mumbled under his breath.



wordcount;; three hundred and sixty

[drydan spencer]

"Ah, yes, whatever does the good Mrs Mclaughlin think of your other woman any way?" Drydan commented with a raised eyebrow as Andy produced the icon embossed tin. It was strange, now Drydan thought about it, that he wasn't aware of such simple things in Andy's relationship. What was wrong with him? He needed to stop being so self-obsessed. By keeping his feelings under wraps his aim was to protect his friendship with Andy, and this felt like damage. As the made their excuses and departed the Warehouse much to the disdain of Corey Briar, Drydan vowed to take a more positive approach to Pippa. After all, she was making his best friend happy. That should be enough for him. It would have to be, considering they were about to take a step that Drydan knew fine rightly meant a lot to Andy.

He followed Andy to the nearby park and gratefully accepted the toke Andy offered, drawing deeply several times and feeling that immediate warmth spread through his body. "This is the life." Andy sighed and Drydan nodded appreciatively, "No kidding," he murmured, allowing the calm to wash over him. "So, tell me. It's serious then? Pippa is she 'The One'?" Drydan asked, not unpleasantly. "Are you going to have a whole bunch of kids and name them after dead rock stars? Can I be Godfather? I'd make an amazing Godfather," he grinned, shimming down so he was lying with his head on Andy's knee looking up at the growing darkness. The night sky looked so...big. He was tempted to share the sentiment with Andy, but knew fine rightly it was a thought that crossed his mind under the influence of most substances. "If you get married, can I be the guy that makes the speech and offends all your relatives? He asked brightly.

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word count; threetwotwo

[andy mclaughlin]

Andy looked up at his friend and arched an eyebrow slightly, unsure of how to answer that question. He had a feeling that Drydan wouldn’t believe him no matter what he said about Pippa. He smiled pleasantly and scratched his ear before taking back the joint and saying, “She doesn’t indulge, but she doesn’t judge either.” in a grand voice that didn’t match up with the tired expression on his face. He took two short draws and held his breath carefully until he counted to twenty and allowed the smoke to be released into the night air. He watched it spiral for a moment or two and then smiled at his best friend.

Then Drydan asked him if Pippa was ‘The One’ and Andy had to think about it. Was Pippa ‘The One’? How could he be sure? How could he tell if she was? He loved her, she was incredible on so many levels but was she his soul mate? He didn’t know. “I love her, like.” He said waving his hand, taking another draw of the spliff and handing it to his best friend again. He laughed at the suggestions for the life plans and he nodded along with them, “Definitely, you have to name them after rock stars!” He stressed and then smiled at him. “I couldn’t think of one other person I’d want to be the godfather of my children.” He said with a wide grin. Just then Drydan changed his position and was lying across his lap. He ran his hand over his friend’s hair and then laughed slightly.

Andy put his hands up in a sign of surrender when Drydan brought up marriage. He couldn’t even begin to fathom marriage at this stage. He hadn’t even had sex yet! How could he get married if he’d never experienced sex? He supposed people did that for years and years and it was the ‘proper’ way to do it. But that tradition was long gone. “When I eventually get married, I would be honoured if you got paralytic and told everyone embarrassing stories about me.” He told Drydan and then began to chortle with laughter; he placed his hands on his stomach and looked at his best friend’s head on his lap. “This world we live in. It’s fucking massive, isn’t it?” He demanded, then laughed slightly. He felt a little bit sick, a little bit hungry, a little bit tired and a little bit exhilarated.


wordcount;; four hundred and ten