Brando had never taken a relationship seriously before, it told in his track record, god knows if he even actually liked any of his exes. But unfortunately for him, his heart had ran out of his chest and went on to fall for his best friend of all people, as if he didn't hate himself enough anyway.

It was a late Saturday night, the pinnacle of the week where most parties blast, a dark cloak hanging over the sky -- adorned with stars. Brando considered them to be a little like your eyes, and then he reprimanded his own head, when did he start thinking sappy stuff like that? To block it out, he downed his cup with later regret, should've double checked how much was in there.

But when Brando stepped outside to be free of the hot air inside, he was met with a sight he'd rather pretend never happened. His features creased slightly as an unconscious frown tugged on the corners of his lips, subconsciously clenching the empty plastic cup between his hands. Damiano, and you. Damiano, and you?

Before Brando even knew it he let out a small huff of air, a weird, sort of sick feeling bubbling within him. It was from chugging half a cup of alcohol, surely. So why was he staring so intently, and why did his footsteps take him over to your side. "I haven't seen you all night," Brando abruptly blurted out, not caring for the fact he'd just interrupted Damiano's flirt.