"Pills and potions, we're overdosing..."

___

"Whatever you do, don't drink the punch," Michael tells Kennedy as they meet her in the hallway of Jesse Fisher's house.

"What?" Her nose wrinkles as she offers Calum and then Ashton and then Luke a hug. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you to shit yourself, tonight. That's why."

"What?"

"Just listen, Kennedy! Shit. You know what?" He throws up his hands, "drink it if you want. Just don't call me from the hospital."

"Michael."

He stops, her hand pushed against his chest. "You might want to try that again," she says, lifting her fists beneath her eyes, "Unless you wanna catch these hands."

He runs a hand through his colored hair. "Okay, wait," he says, at the sight of her narrowed lids. "Alright, that came out wrong."

"You're damn right it did, you fuckboy," she exclaims, slapping him in the arm. "Now what the fuck're you getting at?"

"Ouch! Fuck you, Kennedy!"

"Now, start over and be clear this time."

He runs a hand over his face. "Don't drink the punch, okay? The red one, y'know. The one that's open on the kitchen counter-"

She gasps. "You spiked the punch?"

"Shhh! Fuck, Kenn."

"What'd you put it it? Dude, it's already got alcohol in it! It's called Jungle Juice. Have you never been to a party?"

__

"Ready to go?"

Paige laughs, shaking her head as her sister takes her hand in the backyard of Jesse's house. "Seriously? Pops, we just got here."

"I know," Royce rubs her cold arms. "And now, I'm ready to leave. See how much fun I'm having?"

"Noooo," her best friend, Lola, slurs beside her. "Don't go, Royce. You never come to these with me."

She's drunk off her ass. "And you wonder why?"

They're standing with Paige and her friends. Any other junior would kill to be in her position, surrounded by seniors and Jesse Fisher, the party host, except everyone seems high and drunk and Royce isn't really a drinker and she's never inhaled or snorted or shot up any type of illegal substance, so you could say she isn't exactly a druggie, either.

Not even at parties.

Like Lola.

Who was now laying on Harry Styles' shoulder as she laughed at some story his friend, Louis Tomlinson, was now telling.

Royce sighs, because she didn't even have Liam as a distraction. He wasn't coming to the party.

"Look, it's fine, Paige. I can find a ride home, it's not that big of a deal."

"Royce, you literally just got here," laughs Paige's friend, Jesy. "Loosen up, would you?"

"Yeah," Jade laughs. "You're more fun at school."

Paige grins, her eyes scanning the bodies milling around Jesse's yard. Royce knows she's looking for Zayn. "She just needs a drink," she shrugs. "Here," and she holds out a cup. "Have some punch."

__

Calum hates this type of shit.

He hates these types of parties with these types of people. He hates seeing his classmates and peers outside of school because he hates seeing them in school. Why would he want to actually interact with these fucks on his weekend?

What he hates the most, though, is watching these kids make-out and flirt while they're all drunk and high.

And thanks to Michael, they're extra high tonight, if you can even be 'extra high.'

That's probably not even a 'thing.'

Still.

It's just too easy, tonight.

And although he could practically pick any girl in the house, any one of 'em who'd had even half a cup of that juice, and suggest they take their party elsewhere, he's just not feeling it. It's like a giant orgy in the living room - he hasn't even been outside, yet - and he looks around and catches sight of  his mates and sees Ashton on the couch, hands around the waists of both girls flanking him. Michael's got some girl pushed up against the wall, his tongue down her throat as his hands feel up her skirt and lift it above her waistline.

Calum gets an eyefull of lace.

Shit.

And Luke...Luke was probably in one of the bedrooms, since Luke at least had the decency to fuck in private, so when Calum catches sight of the blonde trailing behind Kennedy into the yard, he's actually pretty damn surprised.

His friends would probably be surprised to catch him alone, too.

Maybe he should drink some punch. Maybe he needs something extra to help him relax and enjoy himself because he's not relaxed and he sure as hell isn't enjoying himself.

He pushes through couples and bodies grinding against each other and kids swallowing each other's faces and makes his way into the kitchen.

And for the first time that night, he actually kind of smiles.

__

"Royce! Royce, no!"

"Kennedy! What the hell?" She exclaims, as Kennedy slaps the red Solo cup from her hands and the contents nearly spill all over the front of her dress.

"Don't drink that!"

"Um," Royce peers at the ounce of red punch left swirling in the cup. "Too late?"

"Fuck," and Kennedy grabs Luke's collar and literally and physically hauls him from the conversation he's engaged with Harry and Louis and Lola. "Luke, this is your fault!"

"What?" He's visibly confused. "What the fuck, Kenn?"

Royce hiccups. "What's Luke's fault?"

Kennedy claps her hands together. "She drank the fucking punch."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"Oh shit," Luke looks around the yard. "Oh shit, Kennedy, don't tell the other cheerleaders."

"What? Why not?"

"They'll tell Paige," he explains. "Let's just...just don't tell anyone the punch was spiked, alright?"

"I don't know about that, Lucas," Kennedy snaps. "First, help me find your stupid-ass friend Michael."

"Alright," Luke nods. "Last time I checked he was inside..."

"Take me to that little bitch."

"What the fuck?" Royce exclaims, as Kennedy grabs her hand and drags her behind Luke. "What's going on?" And she looks down at the cup in her hand. "What the fuck's wrong with the punch?"

The question goes unanswered as she stumbles along, weaving behind both Luke and Kennedy through the mass of bodies gyrating in the living room.

"He was in here," Luke yells, because the music is too loud for regular indoor voices. "He was with some girl, or somethi-"

"Found him," Kennedy snarls, and she stalks towards the boy with dark dyed hair, who has one hand down the front of some girl's underwear, his knee between her exposed legs.

Maybe it's the music, but Royce is getting lightheaded.

Maybe it's the alcohol, but Royce is stumbling, tripping over her feet as she struggles to keep up with Kennedy.

"Michael!" Kennedy exclaims. "Michael Clifford!"

Except, he can't hear her over the speakers.

Royce grabs her head. "What the fuck...?" She stammers, because with each blink the world slows a bit. With each blink, she falls deeper into a clouded haze. She can barely make out Luke's features, and she can barely distinguish Kennedy from Michael. Her face is beginning to tingle and her tongue feels swollen in her mouth, and actually, surprisingly, as Royce settles into this drunken stupor, she becomes more and more okay with it.

She sways to the beat.

"Dance with me," she says to Luke.

He turns, leaning his head down to hear. "Huh?"

"C'mon, Luke," she giggles, taking his hands and grinding against him.

He lets out a soft hiss. "Shit...Royce, I don't - You're drunk."

"Dance with me."

"Sorry," Kennedy screams, yanking Michael physically from the girl he's devouring. "But, he's got an STD, anyway," she explains to the girl, actually separating the two. "So, scurry along chick. I need him now."

Now, Michael blinks as the girl scoffs, pulling down her skirt.

"What the fuck, Kennedy?"

"What? Don't 'What the fuck'' me, Michael. You fucking idiot."

"What the fuck's your problem, mate?"

"Don't 'mate' me, either, dipshit!"

He shakes his head, disbelieving. "Are you on your period?"

"Fuck you!" She slaps him hard in the arm. "That's got nothing to do with this!"

He laughs. "I can't fucking hear you, Kennedy."

With a groan, Kennedy takes his wrist and drags him into the kitchen. "Can you fucking hear me, now?"

__

"Why the fuck're you two screaming?" Calum smirks as Michael and Kennedy enter the kitchen. Here's the entertainment he's been looking for all night.

Michael runs a hand through his hair. "Ask her."

Kennedy shoots them both glares. "Royce drank the fucking punch."

Michael shakes his head. "Yeah, okay? And?"

"Did you not hear me? I said, Royce drank the punch."

"So? God, fuck you, Kennedy. I could totally be banging that girl back there. Fuck. Royce isn't gonna die. Don't be such a prude."

Calum finds himself kind of frowning. "Where is she?"

Kennedy whirls around. "She was with..." Her voice trails into nothing. "Shit. Shit, I left her with Luke."

__

Royce is thinking that she should probably thank Paige. Now, she sees why people drink at parties. Now, she sees why they use other substances to loosen up. Before, she would rather be anywhere but Jesse's party. Now, she's wondering why the fuck she wasn't enjoying herself before.

"I love this song," she grins lazily, leading Luke to the middle of the floor.

"Yeah?" He asks, as she turns, grinding against him.

She hums.

Luke inhales sharply. "Holy fuck, Royce," he breathes. His hands grip her little waist as she dances against him. "Fuck."

It's been a while, Royce thinks, that she's gone out and danced for fun. She used to love dance, until school and cheer began to consume her life. It was so freeing, so liberating.

It was so fun.

And Royce is like, happy, as she dances with Luke.

She's happy.

She's having fun.

That is, she was until all of a sudden she's being spun around and practically stripped from Luke's arms.

"Whoa, shit!"

"Seriously?" A familiar voice seethes. "Royce? She's your next fuck? Seriously?"

Of all the people who don't dance, Luke is the last person Calum truly expected to find Royce with on the dance floor.

Luke's eyes widen at once. "What? Dude, no! I wasn't. We weren't-"

"I-We were just dancing," Royce slurs, and Shit, Calum thinks because she really is gone. 

How much did she drink?

"Honest," Luke says, eyes wide. "I wasn't gonna try for her. Ash already told me you were trying to-"

His nostrils flare. "That I was what?"

And this question goes unanswered as Calum groans, dragging Royce away from the next prick she's found and trying to grind upon on the floor.

"What the fuck's with you tonight, Royce?" He mutters, as Luke watches with amusement and raised brows.

"I just wanna dance," Royce sighs, struggling against the protective hold Calum has around her waist.

"Too bad. We're going home."

"Home?"

"Yeah," he says, the words tumbling out before he could even think. "I'm taking you home."

"Home?"

Luke laughs.

Calum rolls his eyes, dragging her along. "C'mon, Royce. Fuck."

"I don't wanna go home."

"Yeah, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"What's with you, Cal?" Luke asks, watching as he drags Royce back into the kitchen. 

"What do you mean?"

"Give her some space," he replies. "Let her decide what she wants to do."

"Do you hear yourself?" Calum nearly laughs. "Do you see her? She can barely stand up straight and I'm supposed to let her decide what she wants? Fuck you, Luke."

"Hey man, chill. If she were sober d'you think she'd let you boss her around like this?"

Calum stares long and hard at his friend. "I'm taking her home."

"Hallelujah," Kennedy exclaims, rushing to Royce. "There you fucking are!"

"I was dancing," Royce slurs, grabbing Kennedy's hand and tugging her in the direction of the living room. "Come dance!"

"You're not dancing," Calum says, "because we're leaving."'

Royce snorts, giggling. "You're not the boss of me, Dad."

"I am too," he whispers, grabbing Royce's wrist. "Just call me Daddy," And he turns to Kennedy, "Tell Paige she got a ride home, or something."

"Jesus," Michael mutters. "You're fuckin' worse than Kennedy."

She slaps him. 

"Ouch! Shit, Kenn!"

Calum shakes his head. He's not trying to get caught up in the two of them arguing. "Okay, we're leaving, bye," he exclaims, hauling Royce towards the door.

"Um, excuse me. Wait," Kennedy says, jogging after him. 

He groans, rolling his head on his neck. "What, Kenn?"

"Just," she gives Royce a worried glance, as the girl rests her head on Calum's shoulder. 

Calum looks from her to Kenedy. "What?"

"Just, call me when you get her home, alright?" She shakes her head. "I'll find Paige and cover. Just," she points directly at him, eyes narrowed, "Take care of her, okay?"

Royce giggles, eyes closed as she rests against Calum. "Take care of me, Calum."

"I will," he says, more to her than to Kennedy. 

"Okay..."

And Calum hooks Royce around her waist, grabbing a water bottle from the counter while leading her towards the door. "Bye, Kennedy," he calls. 

She sighs. "Bye, Calum. Be careful with my baby!"

Calum only rolls his eyes, sighing as Royce stumbles beside him. 

"But," Royce says, dragging out the 'u,' "I'm not done dancing with Luke."

"Hell yes you are."

"Where-" She begins. "Where're we going?" 

"Oh, y'know," he replies, "anywhere that's not here."

"Wha-? Is Kennedy coming, too?"

"Nope," Calum replies, pausing as Royce stumbles in her boots. "Just you and me, Royce."

She laughs lightly, and Calum wishes she weren't so drunk.  "Where-Where're we going?"

"Oh y'know," he shrugs. "We've got places to be; people to see, and shit."

____

WELL.

are you ready for this?

i like, really love this story. can you tell? 

pills n potions || nicki minaj