Smashed (for det_lassiter)
Shawn hadn't even bothered to go home after he got his stuff from the loft back - and had his nice little yelling exchange with Gus.
Nah.
He's been to some parties, just like he intended to, dancing, talking, forgetting, only that it didn't work. They say when you feel awkward about what you're doing others will perceive it as awkward, no matter how confident you may act. And it was true - his conversations didn't go well, he seemed to have lost his charm and all the time he was overly aware of what he was doing, saying and nothing felt right. Either he was talking too loud or to fast, he didn't know what went wrong.
He couldn't shake off the damn feeling of insecurity, of being watched all the time, eyed over by everyone he talked to and didn't talk to. Whenever a group was whispering nearby or broke into giggles and laughter Shawn couldn't help himself, he immediately felt as if they meant him.
Which is why, at some point, he escapes the loud music and the smoke. Grabbing a nearby bottle of... something you can probably drink he walks the beach of Santa Barbara, singing at the stars, wiggling the bottle, drinking, god, this stuff is really horrible. His dad is probably out on his date by now aaaand there goes another gulp of alcohol that should wash it all away but still doesn't.
Huffing, he just slumps into the cool sand, staring at the water, hating himself for being so ridiculously miserable.