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"Jesus, Russel!" He yelled, shoving Russel off of him. Not because he didn't want Russel's lips on his, but he knew Russel was going to throw up any second now, and people, oh so many people were around. Some disco music was playing all too loud. Distantly, Harold was taking shots over and over with a girl he hardly knew, and Matthew was grinding against a girl who was begging him to leave her alone. Just your average party surroundings. But that moment with this man was everything but average.
"Oh, god, I need you." Russel mumbled, hands on Keith's waist. Everything was so loud. Yelling and screaming and breaking and dropping, but all Russel could hear was Keith's voice.
Keith mumbled something under his breath, slipping from the slick floor, I mean, it was a frat party, who would expect anything else? If there wasn't broken glass and red solo cups, no mud or vomit, what kind of party was it? Before he could say anything else, he saw everybody move away from Russel, and Russel retching. At that point, Russel was.. What, the sixth person at that party to vomit on the floor? Numbers didn't matter, though, Russel felt terrible and Keith almost felt terrible for him, but Russel did this to himself. Keith rubbed Russel's back gingerly, patting his back before grabbing his hand and taking him up to his room.
Keith guided Russel to his bed, praying he didn't throw up again. He laid on the bed with Russel, playing with his hair, hoping to ease the nausea. He watched him drift off into a silent sleep, relieved. The only problem was that now there was a drunk – now passed out – man in his bed.
He could deal with the problems in the morning. For now, all he wanted to do was watch Russel. He watched the man and imagined what would've happened if they were just in private and he wasn't drunk out of his mind. He reached his hand under his waistband, slightly gasping with the way the idea affected his body. After a few minutes, Keith allowed himself to fall asleep.
Keith was the first to wake the next morning, immediately grabbing ibuprofen, not for himself, but for Russel. He was expecting the raging hangover from him, so he placed two ibuprofen pills and a glass of water on the nightstand. He went and showered, letting the water run over his chest and legs, imagining the water was Russels hands.
Oh, God.
He knew how he felt was wrong. It was so wrong. He couldn't count the times he’d hurled the word “faggot” at various men–he wasn't supposed to be one. He was sick. Something had to be wrong with him. Something. This feeling, deep in his chest and his stomach, wasn't right. It wasn't ethical or moral, it was sinful, sickening.
Russel’s lips on his own were the most whole he’d felt in years.
–
Russel woke up, head pounding, memories blacked out. He saw two pills and a glass of water on his nightstand, and took the pills. He should've questioned what they were, but no drug could make him go through worse than his current hangover. He looked around for Keith, needing his eyes, his voice, his touch. When he didn't see him, he laid back down, knowing Keith wouldn't be able to stay away from him for too long. And he was right– Keith was back in the room within 5 minutes. He smiled when he saw him enter the room, eyes locked on him. “Keith, hey..” Russel mumbled.
“What?”
“I said hey.”
“Oh. Hey. How are you?” Keith asked.
“Bad. Average. I guess normal for the circumstances. I drank too much.”
“I know you did. Do you remember much from last night?” Keith just prayed he remembered. Was that wrong? He didn't know if he should hope he would or wouldn't remember.
“No. I do anything crazy?”
“..No. Just average drunk you.” Keith lied through his teeth, fighting back a frown.
“How was the party?”
“You were literally there, Russel. You know how it was.”
“Well, I don't know. Wanted to see if Matthew raped anyone this time or if Harold damn near killed Jesse again.”
“It was fine. Harold was- He was Harold. And nobodies dead. You happy?” Keith lightly slapped his arm.
“Maybe I’m happy. Why am I in your fuckin’ bed..” Russel groaned.
“Because you were too goddamn drunk to drive home. Do you ever learn? I mean, seriously, how much did you drink?”
“You’re one to be talking- I don't remember, dude.”
Keith scoffed. "I didn't drink that much last night. You... Work on getting up. I have to go to work, so.. See you later?"
"Yeah.. See you later." Russel waved goodbye before faceplanting in Keith's pillows.
Keith left, questioning why the hell he joined Chi Psi in the first place. I mean, God, he could be focusing on his studies but instead here he is pining over a man. And Russel, of all men!.. This was gonna be bad.