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“Come on, you know the drill.”
God, did he have to? He feels a headache starting to come and he just knows it’ll be pounding by the time it’s morning. He glares at the offensive object pointing at him, a fucking bottle, because of fucking course it had to land on him, and now everyone’s looking at him, and this is a great introduction to his third year.
He clears his throat. “Yeah,” he manages to not croak before taking a moment of contemplation. Oh well. If he’s out to embarrass himself, it might as well be by the maker’s hand. A big bang, if you will.
“So, truth or dare?” The glint the jock holds almost makes him choose truth out of spite, just to see what would happen if he managed to make the game more boring, but he resists. It’s supposed to be a fun night. He’ll probably just survive this round and forfeit to get another drink.
“Dare,” he bites out, eyes already in his red cup. When his breath finally levels out, he peeks just enough to find that gaze shifted into something more sharp. Intimidating maybe, but definitely something he could handle.
Or so he thought.
“I was hoping you’d choose that.” The others surrounding him (frat boys obviously) smirked amongst themselves, like some sort of high council before erupting into an alarmingly good imitation of fratty laughter. He only just resists to narrow his eyes. No good if assumptions arise. It wouldn’t be the first time he got called out for his seemingly RBF.
His eyes flicker back at a motion in his peripheral which just so happens to be the inviting crook of his index finger beckoning him closer. With alcohol buzzing through his system, he barely processes the moment he starts crawling towards the jock, the bottle thrown somewhere to the side. He tilts his head (for some fucking reason), and sways at the sudden dizziness.
A hand catches his wrist before gently pulling him downward, and suddenly there’s a warm buzz tickling his ear, a shiver following soon after.
“Are you drunk?” There’s a tone of disbelief, but also a hint of worry he believes he didn’t imagine.
“Maybe. Everything’s sort of.. wobbly? Hah.” And then he’s surrounded by what he assumes are arms. The jock announces the end of the game, followed by groans of disappointment. The crowd disperses, and they’re left with the remaining frat boys and light chatter. Again the jock excused them and ducking carries him out of the room. He’d be embarrassed, but he was drunk, dizzy, and sue him for feeling comfy. He gets why girls like hunks of meat.
“Huh. You’re pretty..”
The jock laughed gently, which shouldn’t surprise him, but it does because his stupid as assumed he laughed fratty like all his other gal pals.
“I’m pretty? What about you then? You’re gorgeous.”
He’s flirting. He’s flirting and he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know he swung that way. Or then again, this could be some bro language he isn’t familiar with. God. He needs to get more drunk.
“..Pretty big,” he says suddenly because of fucking course his mouth can’t just stay closed. “Like, man, your arms..” He’s having an out of body experience, one that he doesn’t seem to mind because he isn’t stopping the way he reaches curiously at the arm near his dangling legs (bridal pose, he reminds himself in awe) and squeezes.
“How about a drink first?” The jock flashes that stupid smile that has no effect on him.
“Had ten too many ‘f those,” he slurs in response. “Besides, I’m just admiring the view. Man to man, or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” Jock agrees easily. And then he’s being placed on a surface. A counter, his mind offers as Jock wanders away with another red cup in hand. He’s about to make his way out too until Jock raises a hand.
“I don’t think so. Here, why don’t you sit down while I get water? Your throat’s probably parched.”
“Uh?”
And then a hand (woah, it’s kind of big and warm and the pressure’s just right and—) is guiding him back to his spot on the counter, where he’s hoisted up again by the Jock. Unnecessary really since he’s tall enough to jump up himself, but again, meat.
He’s not sure when he’s zoned out, but the next thing he remembers is refocusing to eyes staring back intently as a red cup is being pressed into his hand. He mutters his thanks in reply before downing it quicker than he expected.
“Thanks man. I owe you.” He’s surprised to find himself smiling, a stark contrast to his behavior earlier during the game. “Probably ruined the game and all.”
“It’s no problem. And hey, you didn’t ruin anything. Everyone agreed it was about time to head in anyway.”
He hums in agreement before looking at his cup again.
“But uh, if it’s possible could I use that one now?”
Oh?
“Totally. I’m pretty sober already, I think. What’s up?”
There’s a moment of hesitation on his face that morphs into one of determination. His gaze meets his sincerely, and what’s this all about?
“I just- this is a little stupid, but I don’t know your name.”
He’s pretty much a stranger. One he’d never seen before on campus and still might never again after this party. He’s been warned to not talk to strangers, but if he does not to disclose much of anything. He could lie about his name and major, tell him to duck off, or just walk off right now. But he doesn’t have the guts to in this life. Not when he helped him sober up.
And he’s meaty and looks so hot. It’s not even fair.
“It’s just Kai. Short for Kaito.”
Relief floods in Jock’s face. He hadn’t even realized how nervous he looked initially. Was he that affected by this interaction?
“Sweet.” He wipes his palms against his jeans. “My name’s Charles. Or Charlie, whatever floats your boat.”
“Oh yeah, fucking stellar last time I checked. Over the moon and everything.”
Omigod did I just say that say sike right the duck now ohhhh my g—
“Ah. Nice.”
There’s a comfortable silence shared for a brief moment, something new twinkling in their shared gaze to one another, and then they’re laughing.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he manages to gasp between giggles. “Just realized how that sounded.”
“It’s..certainly appreciated,” Charles snickers.
They polish the their red cups and finally toss it to a bin nearby. Kai sighs quietly as they head outside. It’s been a pretty decent party. He met a cute guy, talked for a bit, and even laughed with him? He’s almost sad they’re leaving. He’s crazy for thinking this, but a part of him wants to stay drunk, just to see if he’ll take care of him again.
it’s a nice feeling.
As they’re heading out to the sidewalk where the path splits into two, Kai’s almost regretful. He raises a hand, (like waving goodbye could be a good substitute) which would probably just make him miss Charles more, when a hand grips his wrist for the second time that night.
“I—“ Charles looks flustered now, much more than he had been when he commented on his arms. Kai doesn’t look at him with wide, hopeful eyes at all. Nope.
“You?”
“I was just- just thinking about how.. eurgh,” he winces. Kai nods encouragingly.
Honestly, same.
“Well you do still owe me that dare too.”
God he totally forgot about that.
“—ince you’re sober, and I’m sober, well- wait, you are sober, right?”
Kai’s never nodded so fast in his goddamn life.
“Right. So. Er, there’s really no other way to say this, but if I- perhaps since we’ve.. MayIhaveyournumber?”
Kai just blinks stupidly as he watches Charles’ hand startle away. There’s so much worry in his eyes, something he would’ve never wished to bring to someone who’s just made him laugh the best he’s had in years.
Kai’s slow. Of course he is. There’s plenty of opportunities he’s missed, whether they be for trivial things like second guessing himself on quizzes or for bigger ones like applying for sports, he was always just one step off.
But he’s sober now, and if he doesn’t make his mouth move right the fuck now, he might never get this opportunity again.
“Yes,” he gasps. “Of course you can have my number.”
He does not dwell on the little smile that grows on Charles’ face after he finishes his sentence that did not end with a voice crack.
They trade phones, Kai’s fingers blurring throughout the screen, and return them almost giddily. He smirks at Charles’ scrunched up face.
He’s doomed.
“What’s this? Charmander?”
“It’s what fits best, I think.”
“And why’s that?”
“Just been thinking about how you’ve charmed your way onto my list of contacts, which if you haven’t noticed already, is relatively bare, and hijacked- well, charmed in this case, my face to flames. You’re welcome.”
Charles just shakes his head, laughing.
“I’ll text you in the morning probably. Until then?”
“Wait a minute. Don’t you at least owe me one, too?” They’re mere inches away from each other now, and Kai not so subtly flickers his gaze to Charles’ lips.
He certainly doesn’t miss the way the other’s breathe hitches at the difference.
“T-that’s sound. What did you have in mind for this..request?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He backs away suddenly and shrugs nonchalantly. Charles just looks baffled at the sudden change.
“How about..a goodnight kiss? Haven’t had one for years, and—“
And then something warm connects to his cheek, and he’s positively burning.
Another comes shortly after to the corner of his mouth, narrowly missing his lips. Kai suddenly wished he could take his wish back and ask for a proper kiss. He feels robbed.
“You absolute prat. Had me thinking you weren’t.. could’ve just asked me like a normal person.”
“And you could’ve asked for my number without all the stuttering, and look where we are now. I’m still here, and I just got kissed twice by the hottest guy ever.”
“As much as I’d like to follow up by arguing that your looks alone had me praying the bottle landed on you, I really have to go. Mum’s probably worried now.” And then Charles up and hugs him with those arms again and he’s really glad he got his number.
“I’ll text in the morning.”
This time it’s Kai who reaches for his wrist. He presses a gentler kiss to the tip of his nose before releasing. “I will, too.”
The next morning after he’s yawned awake, Kai scrambles to his screaming phone and slams his palm against it. He’s already regretting those drinks, but immediately bites back his word when a message under “Charmander ❤️🔥” draws his attention back.
Good morning. How’s the hangover (if there is one)? :)
And he does not scream into his pillow after reading it.