The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” started to blast through the speakers then, and I sighed dejectedly, feeling like I was being personally attacked by the lyrics. If I had just stayed home like Johnny had, then I wouldn’t be sitting on a sixth year’s couch with a full view of my own personal hell. Liz was here, rubbing herself all over Pierce as they attempted to dance but kept stopping to maul the faces off each other. Jesus Christ. I couldn’t catch a break. I honestly fucking couldn’t.
