The laughter was a disguise, of course. When the audience was watching, you had to maintain a stage persona... just like at his shows; But this was a hell of a lot worse than a show. Adelisa strutted over towards him, she was a pretty little thing that didn't much like him, something about considering him a rival because their bands sometimes competed. He, however, had no issues with her, despite everyone's current feelings toward him, Jar was actually quite a nice guy, albeit a little prideful. He wondered what she possibly had to say to him, but she had only come over to hand him some napkins and mention something about him having her guitar. She must have been talking about the acoustic Delilah had given him. And then she was gone just as soon as she had come.

Jareth walked up to the bar with a sigh and glanced at the shot of whiskey Grant had ordered him before saying his thanks and downing it in one huge gulp. He closed his eyes, wishing it was something stronger, but still appreciating the burn of it down his throat. Maybe the heat could start to melt the ice building up in his soul. His brain felt like scrambled eggs as the conflict within him rose. Martini dripped from his hair and onto the bar as he drummed his fingers on it to the beat of his newest self-written and, as of yet, unperformed [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RS0Qi2bg12A]song[/url]. Jar wanted to get high, a habit that had gotten a bit worse since the breakup. But he didn't have anything on him, and he didn't pack much in his dufflebag. His wet tanktop clung to his torso, leaving little to the imagination. He felt like he was suffocating. Surely the walls were closing in? After a deep inhale and exhale, he looked up at his remaining friend - Hunter had run off somewhere - and said "I uhh, I gotta go."

Grant would recognize that look in his eyes, only those closest to Jar knew about his internal struggles. Jareth was the most sensitive of the trio, he was the artist, the musician, the outcast... He let himself feel things deeply only to turn them into beautiful works of art. The claustrophobic restaurant seemed to feel too hot, despite it's screened in windows, and Jareth walked out onto the beach and headed towards the water. He peeled off the soaked tank top, it did little to offer covering anyway, and he threw it down in the sand before wading and then diving into the salty water.

Jareth hadn't expected the water to be as cold as it was, and the force of it was like a punch in his lungs. He closed his eyes but all he saw was her face. They had agreed to end their relationship together, and she was totally calm in their past few meetings since the breakup. Physically, the chemistry between them could have leveled entire cities to the ground, but they were emotionally incompatible. The thought brought back a vivid memory of one of their screaming matches, they rarely grew violent, but this time the fight concluded in her shoving him against a wall. He remembered the way her face had softened and she channeled her rage into a passionate kiss. Such a fine line between love and hate, but he did love her. He still loved her, they just weren't good for each other. 

[i]When our colors mixed, we couldn't fix the way they wouldn't blend.[/i] The lyric was one of Justin Furstenfeld's, frontman of Blue October, and one of Jareth's main idols. That was a man who had issues with relationships, filing for divorce 5 times with the same woman, yeesh. But maybe that was the trick to it? Musicians led fucked up romantic lives.. because, what a better muse than heartbreak, right? No human emotions are more widely felt than love and pain, and both lead to the creation of songs that people can [i]truly[/i] relate to. Jareth was glad to be drenched in seawater, as it would mask the fact that he was crying. The muscles in his body trembled, maybe it was just the cold, maybe it was the depression. Why did he have to feel ashamed about being upset? Who came up with the stupid idea that only women feel the pain of heartbreak? Are men not just as involved in relationships? No, he slapped the water aggressively and turned around and headed for the shore. He was going to go talk to her, he didn't know what he was going to say, but he had to say [i]something[/i].

After balling up his wet shirt in his hands, he strode back to his room in the condo to get his phone. Her contact was easy enough to find, she was still labeled as "Bombshell". His fingers hovered above the texting screen as he tried to find the right words to say and, deciding simple was best, he sent: [i]"Can we talk?"[/i]