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Through almost closed lids, Sapnap gazes at Dream, a screwed smile adorning his lips as he rolls a raw. They burst into laughs, struggling to breathe as they comment on some candy bowls.
The filter’s in, then the crushed bud fresh from the grinder. He rolls it carefully and as steadily as his influenced brain can manage. A gentle and seductive lick of the end and the joint’s complete, already being lit between reddened lips and stumbling words.
One puff. Two. He passes it to the blonde who readily and shakily accepts it like a newborn deer. It’s quickly drawn to his mouth, one small inhale first, he blows out, a small burst of smoke filling the air. He goes in for another, this time he drags heavily, choking as he exhales a much larger cloud.
He laughs to himself, contagiously affecting his mate, who is bent over into himself. They recover fast as Sapnap watches as his friend asks someone’s name and then proceeds to inquire if they want it, they thankfully decline. Dream spots Punz, beckoning him over and asking the already knackered individual if he wants some, this time the joint is retrieved from his hands and Dream goes back to his previous posture.
A girl walks past, her grin wide as she asks the two of them if they want a few shots, who are they to say no?
She travels past them and back in a few minutes, two shot glasses are handed to them as she fills up their cups, her arms quiver and they lightly chuckle. She scurries away, onto someone else’s cups.
The two smile feverently, cheering the glasses as they down them instantly. The burn is fast, but it dies down after a second or two and then they’re back to smiling at one another as they set the glass down near their feet.
Sapnap closes his small weed setup, stuffing it back into the pocket’s of his hoodie. He’s waiting for someone to pass one over, if it wasn’t enough that he couldn’t feel his waist down, it would be enough after a couple more passes.
Some guy with a well cut mullet hands a small one over, “Your name?” Sapnap snickers out his famous giggle, “Nick.”
“I’m Michael,” he staggers out, “you’re cute.” He swipes a hand into his black hair. Sapnap puffs out a couple O’s, “Thanks, you’re not too bad looking yourself.” He continues, “You been here long?” Asking as he shuffles into his hoodie, “Yeah yeah. If my eyes aren’t proof,” he points lazily at the puffy and red colored previously whites of his eyes.
“Fuck man,” he smiles out, “Yeah, I know!” They laugh together, slipping away into the crowd in slow movements, leaving Dream who is still nursing the same joint. It takes a total of seven minutes but he finishes it off, his rushing mind taking over as he stands and lurches forwards and towards the kitchen where a multitude of food arrangements lay around.
The doritos call his name as he reaches his hand into the bowl and snakily brings a handful onto a plate that had randomly been placed into his grasp. Works for me , he whispers as he stacks a tetris-like handful of assortments as neatly as he can onto a tilting pile.
He shoves a dorito into his mouth, his leg shaking unsteadily, a signal that the copious amounts of weed had set off his stims. He groans, shaking out a small tremor that he excuses to surrounding watchers as “being cold”. It’s embarrassing but everyone is too high to care, save for the guy experiencing it and going through multiple bouts of paranoia.
A close knit party of youtubers, and yet they haven’t said anything about seeing his face. It rubs him the wrong way, and shakes up his nerves as he goes to sit in one of the longue chairs. Surely his small face reveal to trusted friends was something big, was it not? Had he over thought everything? Had he not met their expectations? Were they disappointed?
Sapnap returns with a neutral expression, “Why’d you let me go with him? That was so awkward, a whole 10 minute circle time with two other guys who were caught in a laughing fit.” Dream smirks, “I tell you this every time, there’s no fish in the sea like the fish who swim downstream.”
They exchange glances, “I hate when you make that reference, like at least humble yourself Mr. Mod guy.” They banter for a solid 5 minutes about absolutely nothing, struggling to form the right tone to their words that meets the same tenacity as their eyes.
“Whoa,” Sapnap comments, pointing towards Dream’s shaky arm, “you good?” He gazes at his arm, watching as it bobs.
“Yeah, good, I swear.” Faux stumbling words.
“Okay, at least make your lies a little believable,” he replies, getting up from his seat and moving next to his friend.
“You remember our phrase?” That’s a silly question, of course he does. With a sentence like, “Mommy milkers,” he was bound to remember.
With a small smile from the few words the blonde had uttered, Sapnap grabs the other’s arm and brings him outside, pushing past a group of severely intoxicated people who he offhands the plate of food to.
The cool night air hits the both of them at once and they unconsciously lean into one another. “Do you know what’s got you so anxious, is it the weed or?” They meet eyes, the shorter one giving his famous “mom look” that Dream likes to call it.
“Just my face,” he says, watching as the other nods. “No one said a thing, whether good or bad, it’s stressing me out.”
“Well, does it matter?” He inquires, turning away from the heated body in favor of pulling his hoodie sleeves down. “Of course it matters. Everything I do is based on other’s opinions,” he sighs, viewing the moisture of his breath combined with the cool air.
“So what if I need validation, it makes me feel secure,” he adds, the silence adding fuel to his thoughts.
“You’re more than people’s opinions or a role model Clay, you’re a person, a brother, a son, most of all you’re best friend,” they disregard the full moon to look at one another.
“Fuck validation bro, you’re hot shit whether people think it or not and compulsively obsessing over people you don’t know is fan behavior. YOU, are supposed to be the egotistical content creator,” Sapnap leans in, and they hug, “Thanks for your weirdly insulting but uplifting speech, Nick.”
Dream doesn’t have to say much for his longtime friend to understand the unspoken bond between them, “Now let’s get back to partying. I’m too high for this, and we’ve still got like 3 hours left to get absolutely fucking zooted.”