Millie definitely shouldn't have drank so much. Or smoked weed. It wasn't something she usually did. As a matter of fact, the her from twelve hours ago would be appalled at her present-self's lack of sense.

But then again, it was past-Mille who had brought her into this mess by planting horrible thoughts into her head.

She wasn't good enough. She had no one. She missed Maman so much. And Max was no help. He didn't feel the pressure to be perfect, quite the contrary. It was as if he did everything in his power to be her opposite in every way. So it fell on her to make their mother proud.

Except, she couldn't. Davyn, as annoying and rude as he was, had a point. What she was doing wasn't special.

She just wanted to let it all go for once, and it had translated into this mess which swirled her reality and made it hard to focus.

She'd probably said something wrong, which was why Davyn had left like that, but she couldn't be bothered to figure out what it was, nor care.

She was too busy with her confusion, the slight nausea, and the unexplainable bit of relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders. And not because she felt that she could do anything, but because nothing mattered. Who cared what she did anyway?

Her legs shook, so it became tricky to keep her balance on the tilted roof. She dragged her butt a little lower down, hoping to find a better form of balance. For a moment, she lingered. The darkness below was so tempting, an instant escape from everything. The thought only lasted a moment before she shook her head. She would never do that to Maman and Max. They deserved better than to hurt again, even if that would mean she would no longer feel or care.

It was about time she got back inside before her thoughts turned stupider than they already were. By that time it was obvious that Davyn wasn't coming back. The thought hurt for some reason, even if she couldn't say she enjoyed his company. But it had been nice having someone to talk to, even if that someone was a jerk.

With a sigh, she flicked the rest of the joint into the darkness, watching the tiny lit end flicker and die as it hit the pavement below. Next, she glanced at the bottle of bourbon. After giving it some thought, she tossed it off the roof as well. Way easier to pretend she had no idea where it was then watch Karen theorizing about who drank out of her bottle. She shouldn't even have a bottle in the first place, so serves her right.

After the traces of her misdeeds were swallowed by the night, she dragged her butt across the shingles and towards the open window. She plunged butt-first inside the room which was still empty, then dragger herself to her bed which lay thankfully right next to the window. Her thoughts were jumbled.

As she closed her eyes, her mind chose to focus on Davyn and the pain on his face when he mentioned his father and his family. She'd never thought he'd be like that, that he would care enough to be broken. That there was reason behind all the noise and the anger. That it was helplessness pushing him to be a jerk rather than malice.

Their conversation was still hazy in her mind, but there was something that Millie had picked up on which was crystal clear. He was alone. The good looking, talented, popular boy was alone. Just like her. And he needed someone in his corner. Just like her.

The darkness behind her eyelids started spinning, bringing with it a sense of motion sickness. She frowned and sat up, but it felt even worse, her entire body trembling and her teeth clattering. And then, she knew what would happen.

Forcing her body to move, Millie made her way to the door and across the hall, into the nearest bathroom. The first stall was fortunately empty, so she could drop to her knees and let it out. The vomit burned its way up her throat and tears streamed down the sides of her face. The horrid taste of pot seemed to fill every inch of her. She was so uncoordinated, her hands slipped off the toiletseat and she almost hit her forehead against the edge of the bowl.

"Easy."

Someone pulled her back and brushed the hair away from her face. Why didn't she have braids anymore? Oh, right, Davyn had set her hair loose. And it was obviously him holding her off the floor. She was convinced he'd left.

In normal circumstances, she'd be mortified.

In normal circumstances, she wouldn't be throwing up. But now that she'd started, it was so hard to stop.

Finally, her stomach seemed to have emptied and stopped churning. Still shaking like a leaf, she let her forehead rest against the cold edge of the bowl. Tears streamed down the sides of her face and the taste in her mouth was horrid, but at least she no longer felt like throwing up.

After another few moments in which nothing happened, she dared turn her head towards him. "Thanks."

Davyn didn't answer, acknowledging her words with a hum. She turned her head again, lowered the toilet seat, and rested her head on top of it, facing him. There was barely any light in the tiny stall, the only light coming from a lonely bulb hovering in the middle of the bathroom. His skin looked pale. It didn't take away from his beauty. If anything, it made him look even more ethereal.

Why was she fixating on the way he looked? She'd seen him so many times before, in the bright lights of the gym. She hated him. He was rude and loud. And yet...

He did have the most fascinating eye color. Like a stormy sky. Or a night summer sky. She couldn't make up her mind. But she liked it. The unusual color, the way his black hair fell over his forehead with messy grace, how there was a certainty in his gait, a self-confidence she could never exhibit.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head, realizing she'd been staring at him for a while. Particularly the curve of his lips and the line of his jaw. The movement didn't help and sent a jolt of pain and nausea through her.

"Sorry," she grumbled.

"You are a terrible drunk." His voice was void of emotion, as though he was stating a fact.

"Oh, like you weren't in here throwing up!" She'd said it just to have a comeback, so she expected him to shut her down. It was a bit shocking when he didn't. "Wait, you really did throw up?"

"Not because of the alcohol." He looked away and it was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it. It was also obvious why, so she decided to drop it.

"Are you used to drinking?"

"It's not exactly a pastime, but this is definitely not my first time. Though..." He drummed his fingers on his chin. They were long and there was an impressive dexterity to the movement.

Or maybe she was just drunk and everything seemed impressive right now. Especially the way he could look so put together after throwing up himself. She probably looked like a big ole mess. Which she was. She gritted her teeth and forced her wandering brain back to the conversation.

"Though what?"

"I don't think I ever had this much. Definitely not drugs."

Honestly, the information was surprising. "How come?"

He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows. "How come?"

"What? It's a fair question. You're a loner with issues. I'd imagine you do this all the time. For fun." She'd definitely puked her filter together with the rest of the content of her stomach.

A smile stretched across his lips and it looked a little twisted. "Ah, yes, the cliche that I'm trouble. I could see it. I'm not exactly all rainbows and smiles."

Now she felt bad. "Look, I'm sure you were nothing like this before." And she had no idea why she'd said that since she hadn't known him before and probably never would have if he didn't need to be alone and blast noise in the gym in the middle of the night.

"Oh, but I definitely was. Because, you see, I was destined for greatness."

Her eyes widened even against her will. This entire interaction had caught blurred edges, as if she were sinking into a dream and anything could happened. A greater purpose seemed real and of course he would be the one who would have to face it

"Oh? And what is that?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You're not laughing."

Why would she when his tone had been so serious and bitter that it was obvious it wasn't a joke, even to her inebriated brain?

He heaved a sigh. "I don't know what it is. My father died before he could tell me. At least you have Julliard. I have nothing."

There was a very loaded silence. Then her mouth went out of control.

"You have me."

"You?" The laugh he let out was definitely mocking. "And what use would I have for you?"

She knew the words were offensive, but she didn't care, so she forced a shrug. "I don't know. I just feel like you need someone in your corner."

The mockery turned into skepticism. "You. The girl complaining I'm loud and obnoxious. The girl who almost killed herself to pay me back."

Yes, her. "Why not?"

"You don't know me. You don't know what I'm going through. You have no idea if I'm right or wrong or--"

"I don't care." And she was getting kind of fed up with his whining. Wasn't she supposed to be the insecure one? "Yes, what you're going through is dreadful. And maybe I don't know anything about it. But I do know one thing. It's nice to know you have someone who doesn't judge you."

"You totally judge me."

That was true. And he judged her. "Okay, maybe not who doesn't judge you. But who you know that, whatever happens, they'll be on your side."

He raised his eyebrows, looking even more skeptical. "You. On my side."

"Yes."

"You, who cut off the chord to the sound system just to spite me."

"It wasn't to spite you, it was to keep you quiet."

"You can't silence me, darling."

The nausea was subsiding, and a comfortable warmth filled her now. It made everything hazy, including his words and her common sense. That word she hated didn't send her into a panic, just made her grin.

"Are you a storm? A hurricane? An unbeatable force of nature?"

He raised his eyebrows again, but he looked a lot more relaxed. Amused even. "What type of books have you been reading?"

"Karen has an impressive collection of Sandra Brown and Danielle Steel books."

"Oh, God. That explains a lot."

"I never said I read them."

"I think they'd be a little racy for you."

"How do you even know that?"

Davyn smiled, but it was sad. "My mother had some lying around the house. I was curious."

So was she, but she'd never touched Karen's books. Even so, she'd heard her roommates giggling about them. "Are they really full of descriptive sex?"

He blinked at her. "I didn't think I'd hear that word coming out of your mouth."

"What, sex?"

"No, descriptive."

He was teasing her and she could tell. It was an improvement from outright making fun of her. It strengthened her drunken resolve to dive into this new, crazy idea.

"I meant it, you know. I really am in your corner."

"Again, you don't know me."

"Do I really need to?"

"Yes! You can't proclaim yourself loyal to someone without knowing their beliefs and convictions. Because, ultimately, that's what you pledge yourself to, and not the person. And I'm no saint..."

He definitely wasn't. He was rude, abrasive and pedantic. He was also hurt, unbelievably handsome and had an amazing voice. She didn't know him and she didn't feel the need to. Because she didn't care what he thought and it was nice for a change.

"I don't care. I don't need to know more." She straightened as much as her poor coordination allowed her. "You need someone to be there no matter what. And I'm going to fill that role." She jabbed her chest with her thumb for good measure.

"I'm not--"

"I don't care what you're not. I'll take your side."

He paused for a moment. "Why?"

"Why not?"

She expected him to laugh at her, to tell her to leave him alone. But he didn't. He was still there. Even if there was no explanation as to why he'd agreed to follow her to her room in the first place, why he was still there in the bathroom with her, why he'd held her hair back while she threw up. Nothing made sense. And yet, it did.

It was maybe worthless come the morning, but right then she felt the need to be his champion. Maybe because then she'd have a purpose and this whole mess wouldn't be in vain.

"I should take you to bed," he finally said.

She didn't want to leave that tiny stall. It felt like a sanctuary with just the two of them in it.

"That's okay."

"Yes, it is." He pushed himself to his feet, then grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to a standing position.

The world tilted and she grasped his forearm to steady herself. He didn't weaver, solid as a mountain, there to hold her up. She was getting way ahead of herself, but the thought sent an odd fluttering to her stomach. Fortunately, it didn't reignite her need to throw up.

With gentle movements, Davyn maneuvered her out of the stall, then across the bathroom and out into the hall. She could tell he was doing his best not to jerk her around, even though his impatience was obvious, but it didn't help.

Her vision swam again and her stomach heaved, but before she could even figure out if she was about to throw up again, he lay her down on her bed. The pulsing in her head and stomach subsided and her vision could finally focus back on him.

It was so odd to be lying down on a bed, looking up at him. She didn't think she'd ever been in this position with a boy before.

"Here." He pushed the nearest trashcan to the side of her bed with his foor. "Just in case. Try not to choke on your own vomit."

A million scathing answers danced just out of reach. Her exhaustion only managed to produce a pathetic, "Thanks."

He straightened, looking more tired than she'd ever seen him. "Don't thank me yet. Let's see how you'll feel tomorrow. Just remember this was your idea and I could've left you in the bathroom. "

And without another word, he left her there. For a few moments, she lay in silence, listening for footsteps, hoping he'd have an insane reason to come back. But it soon became quite clear that he'd really left this time. Which was probably a smart move since getting caught in the girls' dorms in the middle of the night was not a great idea.

Resigning to her fate, she kicked her boots off and wiggled out of her overalls before pulling the cover over herself. As she hugged her pillow and closed her eyes, Millie turned his words over in her mind.

He was right. After everything, tomorrow might be very different.

♣️♣️♣️

Hello, hello, new POV. New drunk POV because why would you get sober people? But yes, Millie is actually an important part of this story so you get to see what's inside her head. She's oddly fascinated by Davyn, isn't she? I'm curious how you feel about her.

Don't forget to vote and comment for support. See you next week!