𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 (𝚂𝚊𝚕 𝙵𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛)

Please {Thirty}

"I will be your gravity,
I will stay and never leave..."

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*NOTE:: just want to say it gets a little steamy--
I'd rather let y'all know. Happy reading! :P

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College parties. They're a classification of the broad term "party" that isn't rated E for Everyone.

Not to mention, college students are a different breed, which means that college parties are absolutely fucking insane.

They're wild, they're deranged, they're psychotic. They are all things dangerous, intoxicating, and more.

Even worse is that college parties are a type of lunacy that will catch anyone off-guard no matter how much someone prepares for it.

Blasting, ear-drum bursting music pulses through my veins as the six of us simply step out of Ash's car. So, what I mean by being completely unprepared no matter what, is that I naturally assumed someone was throwing an absolute rager in some kind of mansion. Spoiler alert: mansions don't exist in Nockfell in the first place.

The party is in someone's apartment on the bottom floor of some rickety building that's, miraculously, worse off than Addison Apartments.

The nicest thing I can say about this situation is that it's insultingly foul. But Sal looks excited so I don't say anything.

He has this starstruck look in his eyes, a beaming smile that he can't control, and he's jittery like he can't stay still. He's bursting with anticipation and it feels like a crime to keep him away from the party for even just a minute longer.

But the cute look on his face is gone too soon, quickly replaced by his expressionless prosthetic. After all, this is a party to celebrate him, pretty much. Now that he's on his way to fame, he doesn't want to show off his face as much. His prosthetic gives him privacy. I don't even blame him; I know I'll be able to spend time with him with and without his prosthetic.

We all walk up to the front door, none of us saying a word. In truth, we can't. Corpse Husband's music is louder than my own thoughts-- not that I really mind-- so we wouldn't be able to hear each other regardless.

Larry throws the front door open just to show us that the small apartment room is filled with hundreds of people. I already hate it. Something about this-- about the amount of people in this small space-- makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

Either way, the six of us walk into the apartment. Most people pay no mind to us, other than a few who catch sight of Sal. They whisper to each other, probably mentioning that they saw that same guy on the news the other day. Perhaps other things. Maybe that he's hot and mysterious, maybe even that he looks like some mafia boss like the girls in school used to say.

And all of a sudden, the music changes to Chaotic Primordial's brand new song.

Sal stops, turning and sending me a little look that says "Wow. How original." before we continue moving through the crowd.

I'm getting pushed and pulled in every single direction, nearly losing sight of Sal's cerulean hair on more than one occasion. So, in a desperate attempt to keep up and stay with the group, I grab onto the back of Sal's shirt.

He turns again, looking down at me to find out what crazy person grabbed him only to see who I am. Upon finding that it's me, he grabs my hand from his shirt and holds onto it, pulling me through the crowd. I smile excitedly in response, squeezing his hand in mine.