SATURN, Daniel LaRusso x reader

I | teenage dirtbag

"I THINK YOU should stop, [y/n]," Derrick pushes my body back with the tip of his finger. "you've had enough to drink."

I examine the boy with furrowed eyebrows filled with exaggeration. His figure was blocking the red cups and alcohol, and I craved another sip.

"You're not my dad," I slurred as my eyes became weary. "Move. I'm thirsty."

"No."

I lock eyes with Derrick in total defeat. An exasperated scoff escapes my lips before I find myself pushing my brother. "Fuck you! Who the hell do you think you are?"

The brunette rolls his eyes at my words. "Go home, [y/n]. You're drunk. Find a ride or something."

The kitchen was crowded and heated. Countless numbers of teenagers were staring straight at Derrick and me. My heart races at the disfavored attention before I storm off.

Water appears in my vision, causing my sight to become blurry and damp. Biting down on my bottle lip, I just proceed angrily walking. I have no clue where I'm going nor do I care.

Furious words exit out of my mouth when I mumble whatever to myself. I nearly trip when my legs hit the stairs. "Fuck," I groan in pain, tracing the leg that hit the hardwood with my fingertips.

It was all too much. I could barely breathe from the overfilled capacity of high schoolers, so my exhausted feet made their way to step outside.

The porch in the backyard was surprisingly empty. I smile to myself before I sit my figure on the concrete stairs. I then spot a glass bottle beside me. I guess it's my lucky day.

"Whatcha gonna do about it now, Derrick?" I say to myself with a grin. My hands wrap around the glass, putting the drink to my lips before stealing a sip.

"Who's Derrick?"

Shit—maybe the backyard wasn't empty. I jerked my head to see an unfamiliar black-haired boy who came off to be near my age. An awkward smile appears in my complexion, embarrassed that I didn't spot the male at first.

The bottle stays wrapped around my hand as I separate my lips to utter, "Sorry," a hiccup cuts me off mid-sentence, "I didn't see you."

I expect him to be upset since I probably took his drink, but instead, he cheekily smiles at me. He assures me that it's fine and I can keep the drink. Instantly, I thank the raven-haired guy before seizing another sip.

The night was peaceful. Hardly. The blasting music coming from the home was the only noise on the block.

I sense the boy sitting beside me tilting his head to gaze directly at me. "Are you okay? I saw you crying when you sat down" he observed, pointing at my countenance in indication.

I wasn't okay, and now I'm definitely not okay since he asked. A warm feeling washes over my look whilst tears swell up in my eyes. I didn't want to cry or break down in front of this stranger, but I couldn't help myself.

Then that's when I let everything out. I squeeze my vision shut as I sob—hiccups interrupting my harsh crying. Mascara ran down my cheek continuously before I wiped it off with my bare arm.

I know for a fact I look ridiculous.

The brunette scoots closer to my upset figure. His arms wrapped around my shoulder as he pulled me into him. My hands remained on my face and I sensed his breath on the back of my neck.

I smelt alcohol lingering on his breath. It might've been mine, but it was possibly him too. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

His voice was soft and somewhat calming. I have no clue what his name is however I felt sorta safe in his arms. I nod my head to his words before sniffling, "Yeah."

He slightly moved over so I have access to lean off of him. I lock sight with the stranger, my watery eyes coming across as the ocean compared to his. "My life sucks," I begin, lightly cringing at my words. "I just miss my mom."

"What happened?"

Gosh, his tone sounds so sincere and genuine. Even if he's attempting to cheer me up, I'll start bawling my eyes out from how soft his voice is.

"She died in a car crash three years ago." I lift my arm to wipe off the rolling tear before I can manage to provide another sentence. My lip quivers—partially from how chilly it was—and from my sobbing.

It took me a while to fully comprehend that my mom was gone. I couldn't believe it. It was impossible for her to just be gone. I talked to her earlier that day. Everything was normal.

"An—and it's like no one cares. Not even my brother. I know it's selfish to say this, but, why should I move on? I don't want to move on. I don't know how Derrick does it. Derrick, he's my brother," I mention.

"It's fine if you can't move on. You don't need to move on. I'm also sure your brother cares about your mom. He probably has a better way of hiding it." The stranger places his hand on my knee. "And hey, I'm sorry about what happened. I have no idea how you feel."

"I feel like shit," I admit, "I feel like if I wasn't to do volleyball, I wouldn't have purpose in living anymore. What's the point? My mom's already gone."

"Don't say that. Some people care about you."

"Like who? My brother?" I chuckle at how ridiculous I sounded.

"Yes," he unpretentiously answers. My attitude suddenly shifts, looking at him curiously with furrowed eyebrows. "And also me. I don't know you that well, but I know you well enough to miss you if you're gone."

My expression softens at his words. They were just what I needed. His gentle voice melted my ears whilst the quietness of the peaceful night perfectly captured the scenery.

I couldn't quite tell the difference between his nose to his lips because I was so intoxicated, however, I leaned in anyway. To his surprise, my lips attach to his. He quickly pulls away—and I send him a confused stare.

"You shouldn't have done that. You're really drunk," he explains. I shake my head at him, calling nonsense.

"So? Me being drunk doesn't mean I don't want to kiss yo—"

Vomit interrupts my sentence.

God, I knew that ache occurring in my stomach wasn't 'nothing.'

I cough up more vomit as the brunette lifts my hair to get it out of the way. "It's alright," he attempts to soothe me, rubbing circles with his thumb onto my back. He proceeds with, "You're going to be okay."

Once I'm done, I sit back up and take shaky deep breaths. My eyelids grow more weary—refusing to swallow because the aftermath of throwing up tastes disgusting.

I lean back onto his chest when he wraps his arm around me. I stumble upon myself closing my eyes and drifting to sleep.