Northstar Boys (Regie×Oliver)

Chapter 1

"Regie!" a voice yells the second you enter the bar.

Music thumps through the room, hazy with the scents of sweat and alcohol - you wind your way towards the back, having difficulty seeing where you are going. People continue to bump into you, drinks nearly spilling at least two or three times on the way.

"Ah!" you yelp when someone steps on your toes. Scowling angrily, you glare at a stiletto-ed freshman. "Watch where you're going," you snap. In response, they giggle and drunkenly lope towards the bar.

Pushing hair away from your neck, you exhale, since you have only been here five minutes and already find yourself sweating. Continuing onward, you rise up on tiptoe because these people are not the reason you are here, the reason you are here is -

"Regie!" Oliver Yells, nearly knocking you over in his haste to get closer. He buries his face in your shoulder, wrapping both arms around you while lifting you off of your feet. Oliver's breath is hot, smelling of tequila and mint; you groan at his antics, struggling to right yourself when he sets you back down.

"Oliver" you complain, turning to face him.

Oliver pushes a hand through his hair. "You came," he announces, a giant grin plastered over his face.

Truly, the happiest people in this world are babies and drunk assholes.

"Yes, Oli," you sigh, tapping the screen of your phone. "Shall I read our exchange? You texted, 'Hey, Regie,'"
you quote, scrolling through his messages,
Oli: "'what should I do?'
Me: 'uh, idk.'
Oli: 'pick oneee'
Me: 'ha u drunk already?'
Oli: 'I picked tequila'"
Grinning, you look up at him. "Except you didn't spell it tequila, you wrote 'tekila'"

"Te-killa" Oliver tests this version out. "Sounds... Interesting..." You said in return

"Interesting?" Oliver asked drunk.

"Yeah."

"Lord," you groan, as Oliver cracks himself up. "O-kay," you say, sliding one arm around his waist. "I think that's enough of Drunk Oliver for tonight."

"Drunk Oli?" Oliver repeats, happily draping himself over your shoulders. "Thanksforcomingtopickmeup, Regie."

"No problem."

Grumbling, you make your way towards the door. Oliver's feet drag behind you, taking long, exaggerated steps to match your stride.

"Regie," he whispers, breath tickling your ear, "your legs are so..."

"Hot?" you supply, juggling his weight to push open the door. "Shapely? Toned?"

"Short."

"Yep," you say, shoving into the night. "There it is."

"Hey, REGIE!" someone yells and Oliver glances up, nearly smacking your head to peer into the bar.

"Ow! Oliver!" you complain, while he searches the crowd.

"What?" Oliver yells, craning his neck towards the noise.

He finds the source near the pool tables; two dark-haired guys waving energetically goodbye. "SEEYA!" Ryan yells, while Sebastian snickers into his cup. "HAVE A GOOD NIGHT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND!"

Oliver's mouth drops but before he can respond, you spring into action to yank him fast out the door. "Let's go," you demand, nearly tripping over a heat lamp in the process. "My apartment is only a block away, Regie. Let's go there."

"Alright," he pouts, mumbling something incoherent while he allows himself to be pulled. Placing his hand in yours seems like the most logical option - Oliver does not seem to mind, trotting obediently behind you down the length of the Ave. The street is busy. Not as crowded as inside the bar but still, it necessitates a fair amount of winding on your part. It takes all your concentration just to make it to your front door, which means there is no time to contemplate the drunk nonsense his friends were spouting.

Oliver, your boyfriend - unlikely.