The club’s dark. The air is stale, and humid—everyone dancing and moving has created that uncomfortable fog of humidity and body odor, a scent that only reminds her of the over amped era of ecstasy, and over consumption. She never assumed that he would ever go to a place like this, it worried her, he’d changed, and in her opinion not for the better. He had always been so clean cut, respectful, hell he had even been shy at one point, but not anymore. It was as if he had taken over a new persona of fake confidence, it wasn’t attractive, it wasn’t genuine, it wasn’t him. She lost reason, as to why she even cared to be there anymore.
He looked at her, an unsettling cold in his eyes, it was blank and devoid of expression, it sent a shiver down her—where was his warmth, his care? She realized it had left the same day she did, and this was his way of compensating.
He thought he was doing what was best for him, what would bring him through, however he had just traded one hell, for another, yet he wasn’t able to recognize this, she just hoped it wouldn’t be too late when he did.