There was a pounding at the back of his head that Ben was sure had nothing to do with the alcohol. As Ari stood up, clearly resigned to the subject, his stomach sank. He was being a prat, and he knew it. He should have just left well enough alone and feigned happiness for Ari. The defeat and tiredness was creeping up on him, and the anger that he’d felt rising in him had suddenly disappeared. What was left just felt like a nasty knot in his stomach.

He wanted to be happy for Ari, he really did. But he couldn’t help but feel that this had been sprung upon him without warning. He also couldn’t help but feel like Ari was hiding something from him. Some aspect that didn’t make this story fit into place, and he clung onto that feeling (whether it was his true instincts or his mind making him think he was feeling something he wasn’t).

A voice inside him told him that it was no use pushing Ari to tell him. An even worse one whispered, if he had wanted to tell you, he would have. Would he have, though? His resurface into his past life had left him with various doubts about his relationships, not just with Ari and Bax and Garrett, but with everyone st work as well. He didn’t feel as competent and reliable as he felt he used to be, and that stung.

Ben sighed frustratedly, setting his drink down. ”Maybe you should.” he said, feeling wretched and as if the weight that had descended into the room was now compressing itself onto his person. He hated how this evening had turned out. Hated it. His best friend told him he was getting married and this is how he responded. With coldness and disbelief.

Get a grip, you sack of ungrateful dragon dung.

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