a story i gave up on oops

~

Seto knew that his surroundings shouldn't be spinning as much as it has been. The screaming voices filter out his conscience, but he could still hear it knocking within his front lobe. Still, he had reached for his red solo cup, filled to the brim with a substance he couldn't bother to remember, and took a sip. The bittersweet taste of alcohol rummaged down his throat, burning his nose and his senses. He dropped the empty cup back to the floor.

How fun it was to drown away his thoughts in alcohol.

High school parties were never his thing, but when Mitchell Hughes wanted to host "one-last-senior-party-before-graduation," there was no way Seto could decline. At least, Adam couldn't let the brunet decline after the shitty year he had. Getting dragged to this party was among the last things Seto could look foreword to on a Tuesday night.

A fucking Tuesday.

Now, he was sitting in a lawn chair, uncomfortably close towards the pool where Ian and Tyler were having a splash fight. The flashing party lights and the blaring music from the 80s made it too difficult to think. With the additional bunch of drunk teenagers under the influence, combined with this noise, Seto wasn't surprised that the police hadn't came yet.

He longingly looks towards his side, realizing he had finished his alcohol. He debates whether or not he should get another cup, but he was already fatigued and too wasted to function. Of course, he couldn't ask someone to fetch some whiskey for him—Seto's too socially awkward. He releases an exasperated sigh and stands up.

That's when it happens.

"What the fuck!" Seto shouts, now soaked head to toe in the chlorine water. Ian and Tyler look at the brunet as if they were deer in headlights.

"Shit, sorry dude!" Tyler immediately apologizes. "I think there's some towels in the bathroom."

Seto grunts, crossing his arms and muttering some curse words before getting back inside the house. The lights were dimmed—everyone had mostly been crowded in Mitch's backyard. The music was blaring nonetheless; it was some shitty Green Day song. Seto tramples without grace through the living room, eventually getting to the table where the alcohol was.

He grabs another red solo cup, his sixth of the night, and pours himself a drink. Under normal circumstances, he'd be embarrassed out of his mind. However, he couldn't care less. His body couldn't let him care anymore.

He takes a short turn, sipping the cup and walking foreword. He's dizzy and disoriented, and ends up bumping into someone. Seto's cup drops into the floor, along with his drink. The brunet grunts out of displeasure.

"Seto—" a familiar blurb of blond shouts, "is that you?"

His blood boils and his stomach churns, "Brice."

"You're soaking wet!" His Australian accent is alluring, seeming to filter out the voices within the backyard. "You could get a cold!"

Seto felt a jacket being swung over his shoulders, followed by a brief moment of silence. All he wanted was another sip of alcohol, but now he was stuck in a conversation. He, once more, longingly looks back towards the ground, where his whiskey was spilled out of the red solo cup. Looks like Mitch has something to clean up.

"Are—" Brice speaks up again, stuttering, "—are you drunk?"

Seto giggles, hiccuping with slurred speech, "One could say that...!"

"Why are you drinking?" Brice speaks, grasping Seto's hand tightly. "What—what happened to you?"