dandelionblizzard

One day in my room at Oxford, I noticed something that I then dismissed as another one of Sebastian's idiosynchracies. We were only beginning to drink, and there was some air of formality still lingering in our sobriety. I was only partway through my whiskey, and yet he had finished his. Perhaps I should have offered him more before he had the chance to ask; given the chance now I would have hidden the bottle away.

Finally, I took the last sip of my drink, feeling his eyes bore into me. Sebastian's fingers began to tap against his thigh, slowly and evenly. I don't know why I counted them, but for the wonder of finding a new friend who felt like an old one – the same reason I memorised his always sneezing thrice. He tapped for the tenth time, and said:

"My glass appears to be empty. Would you remedy that?"

"Of course," I said, and I poured us both another course.

I later realised he was counting seconds, waiting to ask for another drink until he wouldn't seem eager. Just one of the ways in which he tried to conceal his penchant for (and later, dependence on) drinking. Another trick of his was to spike tea or coffee, and drink out of a cup instead of a glass. I wonder now if he drank pure tea at any of our tea parties; coffee any of the few nights we spent in study. If he really did drink two to my one, instead of my inebriated double vision making it seem that way. If the signs were there all along and I was blinded by his childish wonder and beauty.