A/N: hello gay people, this is an unedited first draft which I am unfortunately too lazy to fix lol enjoy :)
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High school parties were never West Rickert's thing. They were full of loud and obnoxious, horny teenagers who had the amazing ability to lose all control when it came to sex, drugs and alcohol.
But he'd made the stupid decision to spend his friday night there, and he was quickly coming to regret it.
He preferred the peace and quiet of his best friend Brittany's home, but of course, with his amazing luck, he couldn't stay the weekend at his safehouse because Brittany and her parents had to attend a funeral in Wyoming. He opened his messages and re-read the text Brittany had sent him almost 4 hours ago.
Redð¶: we're leaving for my great grandfather's funeral in an hour! u know, the one I've never even met -_- we'll be gone the entire weekend, I'm so sorry :(
tried to talk my parents into letting me stay but u know how they are, sorry again. Love u. x
West never replied to the text.
He had driven around aimlessly for close to an hour, before ending up on the rich side of town and deciding to join the swarm of teens gathered at a schoolmate's house. It was an impressive house, it wasn't a mansion, but it looked majestic standing next to the houses in his neck of the woods. He could only dream of living in a place like that.
The party was in full swing now, the DJ was playing some wack techno music, people were bumping and grinding against each other, and the repugnant smell of sweat and alcohol filled the room. West, who was now leaning against the wall in the far right corner felt like throwing up in his mouth. Everything hurt to watch, people looked ridiculous when they were intoxicated. He heaved himself off the wall and made his way outside, careful not to bump into any of the familiar strangers who were painfully dancing off-beat.
He fished his pockets for the box of cigarettes he had bought earlier along with a new lighter that had a crude image of cartoon breasts on the front and back. "Anime titties", the teenager at the convenience store had called them. If he hadn't been so desperate for a smoke then, he wouldn't have bought it, but alas, it had been the only one left.
He put the cigarette between his chapped lips and lit it, taking a drag every few seconds. His mind drifted, the music pumping from the house becoming a distant murmur. He wondered what his Dad was up to... shitfaced, probably drowning in his own vomit. Probably taking his frustrations out on the drywall. Probably, and most certainly, West would have to clean up after him, purchase another picture frame large enough to cover the freshly made hole in the wall.
"Hey, Dude." A hoarse voice uttered a couple feet away, pulling him from his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that someone else'd joined him outside. He tried to make out what the person looked like, but the spot they were standing in had no illumination. He could only see an outline of them.
"You must really like walls, this is like, the second wall I've seen you leaned up against tonight, haha."
West couldn't tell if the person was joking or not.
"Excuse me?"
The person cleared their throat and muttered something under their breath that sounded like "just a joke". West was about to suggest that they take comedy classes, but he wasn't about to waste his breath on whoever this person was.
"Uh, could I borrow your lighter, please?"
West nodded, then threw it to the mystery person, who only smirked at the design of his lighter before a low "Nice." escaped their lips.
They lit a cigarette, then threw the lighter back to West who caught it with ease.
The person then stepped into West's line of sight and stood right in front of him, grinning like a cheshire cat. He still couldn't see them all too well, but he knew now, it was probably just another drunk boy from his school. A creepy one at that.
The boy was tall, but not as tall as West, he was probably 5'10. West was 6'2.
"You go to Easton High, right?" The boy asked.
West grunted in response, he didn't really feel like engaging in conversation. He'd never really been one to start or keep them going.
"Wow, so not much of a talker are you? Doesn't matter... I'm Killian."
The boy finished his cigarette, then threw the butt on the ground before crushing it with his foot. West disliked the action.
He glared at Killian, then bent over to pick the cigarette butt up from the ground. West hated people who littered, especially in public places, granted, this wasn't a public place, but it was still someone's house. He gave Killian one last dirty look before heading into the house again to look for a garbage bin.
West stepped into the kitchen, which was thankfully empty and deposited the two cigarette butts into the plastic bin.
What he didn't notice though, was that Killian was hot on his tail, soon enough it was just the two of them again. He could see him clearly now.
He had hair that was a thousand shades of gold and skin honeyed to perfection from soaking up the sun's rays.
The most noticeable feature, though, were his eyes. A striking blue gaze reminiscent of clear skies. He was summer personified.
Pretty.
But the thought left West's mind as soon as it came.
"Can I help you, man?" He questioned in a clipped tone.
"Ah, you're playing hard to get. That's cute."
West had no response to that. But he was smart enough to know that the guy was trying to flirt. Keyword: trying. And failing, too.
"Are you really giving me the silent treatment right now?"
"You're drunk."
"As fuck. But I'm still moderately functional. C'mon, what's your name?", West didn't get a chance to reply because Killian suddenly burst out into laughter. West cocked his brow, he couldn't tell if the guy was laughing at him, or if he was drunk, and high.
"You know that Green day song? 'And in the darkest night
If my memory serves me right
I'll never turn back time
Forgetting you, but not the time'"
"Basically I'm drunk as hell right now, I may forget your name, if you even give me your name, but I won't forget your face and-- no actually, that doesn't even make any sense. Maybe I need to sit down..."
West was kind of confused, why was this person still talking to him? About Greenday, nonetheless. Why was he talking to him at all?
"I'm leaving." He tore himself off the counter and moved towards the backdoor of the Kitchen.
"Wait, don't, I--" In a matter of seconds, the contents of Killian's stomach were sprawled out on the tiled floor. Killian clutched his stomach as more icky, weird colored stuff spewed out of his mouth.
A third guy entered the room, looking equally as fucked up.
"What the hell?" He slurred, a drunken mess, "You better clean that up, man."
West grimaced when he realised the words were directed at him and not the guy actually messing up the floors.
He already cleaned up enough vomit at home, he wasn't about to do that here too, let alone for a complete stranger. "I don't even know who he is."
"My house, my rules, tough guy."
The jerk grabbed a bottle of unopened vodka from the counter, then left the room.
West turned his attention back to Killian who was now lying on his back on the floor. He was going to have to find his friends or something. He poked the guy with his foot.
"Hey, did you bring any friends with you tonight?"
Killian mumbled something that sounded like 'Harper and Clancy'.
West left the room to go look for Killian's friends. He asked around for a few minutes, until a girl he recognized from school informed him that they had already left.
This night just keeps getting worse.
West went back to check on Killian, who he realized was now out cold. He contemplated leaving him and his puke on the floor and forgetting about him and the shitty party entirely, but he knew the guilt of leaving him there, helpless, would gnaw at him. Even though he truly had nothing to feel guilty about, it was Killiains own choice to drink more than he could handle.
After debating with himself for a few seconds, he chose to help the poor kid.
He picked Killian up and carried him bridal style to his car so he could take him home, wherever that was.
Once Killian was finally strapped in, West placed both of his hands on his shoulders and shook him awake.
"What the--"
"Address?"
Killian looked around groggily, he was having problems processing the situation at hand. He didn't even know where he was, he recognized the face staring at him in annoyance though. "I-- what?"
West reached for the bottled water on his driver's side, opened it, then put it in Killian's hands.
"Drink. And don't throw up in my fucking car."
He helped Killian settle in before pulling out of the driveway. He drove around the neighborhood for a few minutes, hoping that someone would stop him and ask if he'd seen a certain blonde boy. Or that said blonde boy would sober up and actually tell him where he resided.
"44 Kingsway Avenue." Killian mumbled as West's question finally registered in his mind.
West, relieved, pressed down on the accelerator and sped off in the direction of Killian's house.
Once there, he hopped out of his car and opened the passenger door so he could unbuckle Killian's seatbelt. He pulled him out of the car then carried him to his doorstep before ringing the doorbell a couple of times and laying the nearly unconscious boy down on the mat.
He retreated to the warmth of his car afterwards without looking back.
He got Killian home, what happened to him after that was none of his business.
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