¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

Chapter I

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He makes bad seem fun.

And trouble feels good with him.

***

Seventeen.

The idea of it was way nicer than actually being seventeen. All those movies and books, and stories old people told were filled with whatever the fuck was the teen life. Throwing crazy parties, getting drunk, making out with people you'd regret kissing. Being wild and free, feeling like nothing can bring you down.

But I wasn't having fun.

I was feeling isolated from everyone while they were dancing and having fun. It felt almost like a simulation, like, the thoughts in my head and soul in my body weren't mine. The memories belonged to someone else and I was just living their life. They felt worn out, and I was supposed to make those memories mine.

This was supposed to be the time of my life.

But how could it be, when I was just a shadow in someone else's world? It was always Aiden and Melanie, and sometimes even Aiden and her friend. But I didn't care until now, Aiden kept me away from those thoughts. She did her best and honestly, I felt loved like her. She managed to share everyone else's love with me, even if I didn't know them or they didn't like me. I didn't feel lonely or rejected when I was around her. But right now, as I was more sober than ever at a party, I couldn't just ignore what my life became.

Soberness was the worst diet I was on in my entire seventeen years a hell of a life. There were so many things you realized as you kept your brain awake. And when you thought of life, you wanted to end it sooner.

It was grey, cold, and lonely for me and I wasn't far enough to don't want to go back to the life I was used to and once enjoyed.

The issue with me was that I couldn't express myself when I was sober. There were wrongs and rights and I was wide aware of that. And somehow it seemed like as hard as I tried to be the society's ideal that much I failed.

I even remember when I blew the candles and officially became seventeen. I remember the white plain cake and the one and only candle on it. I remember celebrating it with people that laughed but were actually suffering inside. I remember no one loved coming to the rehab center to celebrate starting seventeen sober.

Love and being appreciated were two things it seemed like I couldn't get. Even if I was on the edge, I wasn't suffering enough, or I wasn't bad enough to get some affection. When I archived something it wasn't big or important enough to earn me sentiment.

I couldn't win either way.

"Why so sad, baby?" an unfamiliar hoarse voice spoked, making me look down at my untouched shot of vodka after realizing I was staring creepily at Aiden.

Taking a deep breath in annoyance I looked up at the owner of the unknown voice. And even though I wasn't a social butterfly I, too, knew a few names and faces. And the one with swept-back curls, I had never seen before.

He brought his face closer to me, smiling broadly. It was getting harder to ignore him and the loud music wasn't helping me much. The guy licked his lips, before placing his hands on the sides of my barstool turning me towards the kitchen counters, and placing his hands on the counter's edge. He left me trapped between his chest and the kitchen aisle.

The scent of tobacco and vodka filled my body as I tried my best not to touch his chest with my back when he was leaning over my shoulder. His breath was hot against my earlobe. And my heartbeat was fastening.