Bad Ideas •TomBoo•

Chapter 1 - Trouble

TW - People Making Out, Drunk, Mention Of Self harm

~Ranboo's Pov~

I laid my head down on the cold oak wooden table that was filled with people.

Drunk or calm, or just in the middle.

"Pass me another drink please?" I yelled lightly.

Although I had already consumed 4-6 bottles of beer or so-called 'fruit punch'.

A brown-haired man passed me another bottle of the same beer. I grabbed the cold beverage and gulped it down like the rest of the bottles.

I was already out of it bad enough, one more wouldn't hurt, right? It's just a drink and it's mostly guys at this party.

You're a women

I grit my teeth.

"I'm not a god damn woman!" I immediately covered my mouth after I realized I said it out loud.

The people surrounding me at the table gave me weird looks. Some ignored me and continued their conversations with another person.

I looked towards the tiled design ground. I was embarrassed, to say the least.

This party was full of rich people, the wealthy, and power. I wasn't one of them, I was the opposite.

I didn't live in the greatest home. Abusive parents, shit household, bad neighborhood.

I was just happy I wasn't living on the streets.

I let out a loud groan of boredom as I adjusted my short black leather jacket. The rest of my clothes were itchy, the white sweatshirt mostly.

The black jeans weren't working out either.

I sat uncomfortably in the fancy wooden chair. It seems like it would be comfy but it wasn't. Not at all.

I took lifted the bottle to my lips again, it was almost empty. Yet it was still so cold when it barely had any inside of it.

I drank down the last drops of beer in the bottle. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. It was quite a strong type of beer but it tasted good.

But that wasn't the point of drinking, the point was to forget everything. All of your problems are gone at the moment.

Those are the best moments even if you aren't in your right state of mind.

You forget them but they will always be there

God, I hate my mind so much!

It's like it's split in two. Like a devil telling me what's fake but fun and wrong and an angel telling me what's true but boring and good.

The devil can speak all its wants, scream even. But the angel can shout over it all.

I hated the truth, I hated it all. Even if it was fake, it's what makes me feel safe and not need to worry.

"Pass me another bottle!" I yelled again towards the server.

All he did was nod his head hesitantly.

He went under the desk and grabbed another cold fresh beer bottle and handed it to me.

I gladly took it and popped it open with the table edge.

I felt slightly dizzy, only just now I was noticing the effects of the beer. I wanted to talk over and lay.

So as a drunk adult who acted like a 13-year-old 'boy' I fell backward. I held my beer bottle tightly.

'Fuck I'm gonna hit my head'