Parties and Marshmallow Fluff
I fucking hate parties.
I hate the way the music pounds so loudly you can feel it vibrate in your skull, I hate the preppy guys with slutty girls parked in their laps, practically mauling each other as they stick their tongues down each other's throats. I hate the stench of cheap weed that only grows stronger due to the heat-stroke inducing temperature of whatever house we end up in that night, and I hate the stale taste of old beer the host probably found in their parent's basement.
I fucking hate parties.
Despite all that, I still find myself being dragged here every Friday night. Tonight is no different as I stand in a stranger's empty kitchen, the air being drastically cooler in here. I was leaned on a counter with a half-empty and dented can of shit tasting beer in my hand, the cool condensation of the metal helping my temperature decrease. I'm standing here waiting, bored out of my mind. I'm not really sure what it is I'm waiting for, a chance to escape maybe. I sigh deeply, the heavy air leaving my lungs in a single whoosh, before making my way out of the kitchen, scolding myself for making the idiotic decision to come here today, today- of all days. I stepped into the living room, the air being so thick it was almost difficult to breathe. My eyes scan the adolescent filled crowd, searching for a specific artificial blonde haired boy. I finally spot him once I move closer to the front of the party, he's lounging on a couch near the wooden door we entered through earlier tonight, talking to Zayn. As I get closer their voices become audible.
"Niall, if you call my mom a milf one more time I'm seriously going to kick your ass." Is the first thing I hear as I approach.
Inserting myself into their conversation, I add, "Ni, stop calling Zayn's mom a milf. It's not healthy for him to hear six times a day." Niall looks up at me, face pulled back in an amused expression, and laughs.
"Harry! Where the hell have you been all night?" he starts, "We got here and somehow your bigfoot ass was able to disappear, right Zaynie?" He turns towards the tanner boy.
Zayn rolls his eyes, too busy smoking from what looks to be a USB device to answer right away. Once the puff of smoke leaves his lungs he finally speaks, "Yes, Niall, you're right. You are also very drunk, so I think that's our cue to start heading home." I nod my head in agreement, holding out my hand to Niall in an attempt to help him stand in his intoxicated state.
"No! I don't wanna leave! I haven't even met any babes yetttttt." He exclaims, rejecting my outstretched hand and sticking out his lower lip in a pout. I drop my hand to my side, looking towards Zayn for help. This is Niall's signature move, talking me and Zayn into going out and then getting so shit faced he won't allow us to leave. I can't really be angry with him though, he's helped me through everything terrible that's ever happened to me without a request to do so. I couldn't ask for better best friends than him and Zayn.
Zayn chuckles, shaking his head slightly before pulling Niall up from the couch by his armpits with a bit of struggle due to his lax body. Niall whines the whole way through, going on about how he wants to make out with at least one girl before we leave. Classic.
"You make out with a different bitch basically every day of the week, I think you'll survive one girl-less night. Plus, no girl is gonna want to kiss you when you're drooling, mate." Zayn says to him, leading our alcoholic of a friend to the door with me following close behind, excited to get the hell out of here.
I'm not usually like this at parties, under normal circumstances you'd find me dancing and sweating with the crowd, flirting with a girl or even kegging while people cheer me on. Not today though, today is different. Two years ago on this exact day, my father died. Not under normal circumstances and not peacefully, but tragically and unexpectedly. The event is still fresh in my mind, everything feels as if it just happened yesterday, today only adding to the vivid memory of it. His death impacted me greatly, changing every view I've had on the world since I was a child, don't get me wrong-I'm still me, just a somewhat more pessimistic version of myself. I don't see life as I used to, I don't see it as laughter, love, and light all the time anymore. I interpret it more realistically now, heartbreak and unfairness, dark corners and bad intentions. Whenever I think I have it bad, however, I take a look at my mum. A once a care-free, talkative, relaxed woman is now a shell of a human. Instead of all the great things she once was, she's now constantly anxious, apprehensive, ignorant and angry. I try not to blame her, I really do, but it's so difficult when she's screaming at me from the other room for staying after school to finish a test. That's what brought me to this party tonight, not Niall's constant begging but the need to get away from that house, the need to get away from my own mother.
