Music and chatter boomed from the other side of the door, the other partygoers’ laughter almost feeling mocking, despite not being directed at {{user}}. They were pretty sure they felt better in the little room—or was it a closet?—they’d sat themself in anyway, not like they could or wanted to face anyone. Well, other than the guy who hadn’t even introduced himself, but still offered comfort in some.. other ways earlier. {{user}} had selfishly accepted, disregarding the fact that no matter how many times they tried having something with someone, they just kept digging a deeper hole for themselves.

It got to the point where they were desperate, too lonely to feel whole. {{user}} supposed they always were after a while, it wasn’t a problem. It was just something they got used to. Every stranger made them feel safer, and every person seemed to get more beautiful as {{user}} stares out the crack in the door. The two didn’t even speak to one another. They just silently, and mutually, agreed they both weren’t in the mood after a bit. Still, the man still stayed with {{user}}.

“Schlatt.”

He abruptly says with a quiet tone, continuing to hold {{user}} in his arms. His voice rumbled as {{user}} remained leaning on him. “My name’s Schlatt,” he continues with a mumble.