All the stars above, yet I still couldn't look away from you're starry eyed gaze.
It was summer in South Park. I met this boy at the bridge I used to go to back when I was younger. Something about him felt like home; a promise and an oath I have kep...
"I was never insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched." - Edgar Allan Poe
-
I ran out of cigarettes and its been already a few hours pass from midnight and I could observe the crowd grow smaller and quieter than it did a few hours ago at its peak. Yet, then, the moon is still preaching its faint hindmost beauty that conquers nothing but far from dawn. People being carried and assisted out of Stan's house is what this whole place had became; What a wild night, so wild, that some cannot even walk straight or pin point the consciousness of their minds. - A wandering thought then came up to me about Henrietta. Right, she was down there, and of course, I have to take responsibility of her problematic drunk blabbing thoughts to make sure she's safe till she steps on her front porch. As I was about to exit the balcony, a warm hand intertwined with my shoulder locked me into the same position as I was trying to leave. No one else to expect but Craig Tucker. He had a unmarked cigarette on his hands, twitching it like it was tempting me from taking it away from him. The cigarette seemed to have something written on it, but I couldn't really envision it properly because the balcony is dark and the only thing lighting up the whole space was the faint led lights inside and the dying lamppost light across Stan's. - Making me look like a cat with its hind curiosity.
"Where to'?" He asked. I chuckled, why would he care all of a sudden? "To my friend, she might need me down there. I'll have to go now." I responded.
"I'll come." "No, I'm good."
"When will we ever meet again? It was a nice chat." He muttered. It was indeed a nice chat, but unfortunately, I couldn't care more of anyone's safety at the moment rather than Henrietta's. I'm sure Pete and lil goth went home early. - Talking about Firkle's 11:40 curfew; so I'm head over heels on thinking Henrietta's sake at this point because I'm sure she's messy to be fucking around with.
"I have no idea, Tucker." I turned to exit the balcony when all of sudden I found his hand grabbing my arm. "Take this." He hands me a cigarette with his number on it.
"Let's hang out sometime." I nodded at him. we both chuckled and waved each other goodbye.
As I walk my way down the steps, the shift of cold atmosphere to steamy air with a hence of mixed alcohol beverage scent has aroused in my senses. I looked through every corner for Henrietta - and there I found her laying on the floor near the bathroom with her friends who also passed out as well. The party was obviously dying; some people have already passed out and the bathrooms are all occupied; the music playing on the DJ's booth are nothing but mellowing songs; The crowd has slowly fell into silence and loud laughs we're replaced by deep conversations by the people who are still up and managing to chug more drinks.
I grabbed Henrietta by arm and dragged her way out. This bitch is so heavy and I don't think I can bridal carry her. Looking at her, if I attempt to do that stunt, I might as well pass out with her.
I took her home and called it a night.
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POV: Stan's party💀
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PS: HOLY SHIT I ENJOYED WRITING AS MICHAEL SO MUCH. THE CHANGE TONE FROM CASUAL TWEEK AND CRAIG TO POETIC GOTH GOT ME CHALLENGED. I MIGHT WANNA WRITE MORE FOR HIM..
