Chapter Text
You are not okay.
You were okay, once, maybe an hour ago, but that’s just a distant memory now. Instead you’re now suffering the consequences of drinking just a little bit too much. And while you wouldn’t usually describe yourself as a lightweight, you’d stupidly skipped dinner in favour of finishing a slide deck that you’d almost forgotten was due that night.
Your head presses against the scratchy cotton of whoever’s comforter this is and you make the mistake of closing your eyes, just for a second. The world tilts precariously, causing your stomach to turn and sweat to form on your brow.
No, you shake your head, forcing your eyelids open in an attempt to save yourself from the horrible embarrassment of puking in front of half the people in your classes.
“Gotta wake up,” you mumble to yourself, tucking your knees into your chest.
With your brain working in half-time, you manage to come up with a strategy: sit on the ground for another 10 minutes, get water, and then leave before you can ruin a piece of upholstered furniture with the remains of your lunch.
A voice drifts into your ear, deeper than your own voice in your head and you nearly brush it off as background noise, until—
“Hey,” someone kneels in front of you, long-limbed and very vaguely familiar.
You squint.
“Not interested,” you manage to say, suddenly a bit more sober and on-guard. Did you know him? Would you be able to shake him off if he got persistent?
“No I don’t—I mean, I just wanted to ask,” he leans back on his haunches, “are you okay?”
“’M fine,” you wave him off. “Just resting.”
“Are you sure?” he presses and you look up at him. Even in the low light of dark purple LEDs, you can tell that he’s attractive. Which, of course, makes this whole interaction all the more humiliating.
“Yeah,” you say, voice sounding more wobbly than you’d like.
“I think you need water,” the tall stranger concludes. “I’ll get it for you. Don’t go anywhere.”
You don’t bother telling him that you don’t think you could go anywhere, even if you wanted to, even if you tried. But he’s long gone and you lean back into the bedframe again. You don’t even know how you’re going to get out of this one.
You dig your phone out of your back pocket and fumble with the screen a bit before you’re able to unlock it. There are a couple of texts from Yaku but you don’t feel like reading the bright characters in your current state of mind.
“I’m back,” whoever it is from before says. A cup is thrust into your hands, sloshing with clear, cool liquid.
You eye it suspiciously. You might not have thought this night through, but you’re more than cognizant enough to know that accepting a drink from a stranger is one of the worst mistakes you can make right now.
“How do I know it’s okay?” you manage to string together, frowning at him. “How do I know you didn’t—?” you make a sprinkling motion with your hand over the cup. Something in the back of your head tells you that’s probably not how drinks are spiked but hey, how would you know? You’ve never done it.
He looks from the cup to your scowl before taking it back from you. You watch warily as he downs a large gulp of the cup’s contents, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
He offers the cup to you again.
“Trust me now?” he asks, dark eyes meeting yours.
“No,” you say, but you take the cup anyway.
The cool and refreshingly inoffensive taste of water is the greatest relief you’ve had in a minute and before you know it, you’re down to the last drop. There’s an amused expression on his face as he watches you wipe a drop from the corner of your mouth.
He grins and gives you a thumbs up that you find endearingly dorky. Who even is this? And why is he taking the time to make sure you, a complete stranger, are okay?
He takes a seat next to you, the swishy red material of his sports jacket brushing against your shoulder as he settles in.
“Don’t you want to go and have fun?” you ask, head against your knees.
The music is faraway enough to just be background noise, the bass pounding in the back of your mind as his eyes meet yours.
You blink, a little dazed.
“Ah.” He looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “Who says I’m not having fun?”
“I do,” you say plainly.
“Well then,” he replies lightly with a hum. “Should I leave?”
A snarky little voice in your head dares you to say yes, just to see what he’ll do. But there’s another more overwhelming and annoying gut feeling that wants him to stay, wants him to like you. It’s not everyday you meet someone this…magnetic and you want to enjoy his presence a little longer before the night ends.
But you must have taken too long to answer because he’s standing up and brushing off his pants.
“Alright, alright,” he relents. “I can take a hint. I’ll leave you alone.”
Something desperate twists inside you but thankfully you’ve sobered up enough to not do something embarrassing, like beg. Instead, you sit there, pouting like a child as indecision gnaws at you. You want him to stay but you’re not that pathetic, no.
He’s just some guy who’s walking away now. And it was just a brief interaction…with someone so kind as to give you water (non-drugged) and make sure you’re okay after finding you looking like roadkill. Not a big deal at all.
You try not to stare as he leaves the room.
You didn’t even get his name.