八字万年历

On setting his eyes on someone who was his teammate, roommate, and someone he had regarded as a close person though not quite his friend… going behind his back to have rodeos with the girl he was quite literally his girlfriend, Jason felt his blood rush to his head and cloud his judgement.

He had instinctively reached out and grabbed a bottle of alcohol that was still full and wanted to hurl it at Mylo and then pick up the shattered remains of the glass and use it to carve out millions of symbols of hate on Mylo.

These were some of the mildest thoughts that had appeared in Jason\'s head that moment, but he had suddenly heard a groan behind him and he had glanced behind him to see Sofia being roused from her alcohol-induced slumber.

Jason\'s anger didn\'t dissipate and burned even brighter, but he managed to regain control of his body movements even though his brain and heart was heating up.

That short moment was enough for him to think about the repercussion of smashing a bottle on Mylo\'s head.

He could already see the headlines as well as the sanctions that would be stuffed down his throat just because he rightfully gave in to his anger.

As much as it annoyed him to think about, he knew it was true.

The club management wouldn\'t care about the cause of the fight, but would only care about the fact that it would give them bad publicity while the media didn\'t care either and would print and post whatever they could to get clicks and views from as many people as possible.

While it wasn\'t something that would end his career, it would definitely deal a severe blow to his reputation.

\'It\'s not worth it,\' the last bit of rationality that he was managing to cling on to whispered in his head, but it was immediately threatened by Mylo opening his stupid mouth.

"I can explain," Mylo finally opened his mouth, wanting to seemingly defend himself, but Jason didn\'t want to hear it.

"Just fu*k out of my face," Jason cussed and immediately turned around to walk the other way. He didn\'t trust himself to not reflexively lash out at Mylo if he dared to walk past him.

Mylo didn\'t have any words to say as he watched Jason walk away. His mouth came open and words seemed to be about to come out, but he caught himself and didn\'t end up saying anything, only watching Jason walk away, his thought process remaining unknown.

Jason marched out of the lounge, pushing harshly at everyone in his way until he came out of the other side of the dancing crowd.

Despite his furious steps, he felt defeated and walked out of the club and to his car like an angry zombie, not thinking much into his actions at all.

Once he was behind the wheel, he started driving.

He did not know where he was going, but he just kept driving aimlessly and when he finally came to, his eyes inadvertently fell on the bottle of alcohol that he had originally planned on smashing on Mylo\'s head, but had ended up taking from the club.

Parking the car by the side of the road, Jason pushed open his door and grabbed the bottle wanting to hurl it away in anger, but like a whisper calling to him, he caught himself just before throwing away the bottle.

It was almost like the bottle had cast a spell on Jason and he just kept looking at it, the thought of opening the bottle and letting the pain of his heart drown within it\'s content.

For almost a full minute, he just kept looking at the bottle and just when his other hand moved and he was about to give in and twist the lid away,

"Don\'t do it kid," a low slurring voice came from his side prompting Jason to look over at where the voice came from.

Looking around he noticed that in his unconscious driving, he had driven to a rough part of town and was surrounded by narrow streets, old buildings, and people who seemed to be enjoying their nightlife. Nôv(el)B\\\\jnn

In such an area, Jason\'s BMW i8 stood out like a sore thumb, but apart from the few looks he was getting, nothing else was happening, yet none of that was of any interest to Jason.

"Don\'t do it kid," the voice came again and Jason\'s eyes once again moved, and this time he finally saw the person who owned the voice.

The man looked like what Americans would call a \'hobo\' which meant a homeless person, and he held a bottle in his left hand which was quite ironic.

"Don\'t do it kid," the man repeated once more.

"I can see it in your eyes, you look hurt," the man continued speaking, surprising Jason because he did not think someone could easily read him like that, especially when the said person looked like he was one sip from passing out.

"Looking at your clothes and your car, you seem to be doing well for yourself, so it\'s probably a female problem," the hobo continued, making his voice a bit dramatic as he tried to sound like a private detective from old Hollywood movies.

"Another skank has torn apart the heart of a good kid, and with your face, it is better you heal quick," Jason just stared at the hobo as he kept talking, his mind not responsive enough to stop listening at the moment.

The hobo\'s words were slurred and he paused constantly between sentences, but his words seemed to make sense to Jason for some weird reason and he couldn\'t stop listening.

"I get it kid... you\'re hurt... but the solace you neED... wouldn\'t be found in a BOttle,"

"A bottle doesn\'t solve problems, it can only contain them... and that too for a limited time,"

"And with alcohol that weak, the pain will be back tomorrow morning with a splitting hangover,"

Jason just kept listening thinking how ironic it was for a guy holding a bottle of what seemed like cheap liquor and already dead drunk, advising him not to fall into a spiral of alcoholism.