the sea foam of burgess island

mr. brightside (03)

author's note: hiiiiii. it's been an extremely long time since i updated this story lololol. i'm v sorry for such a long delay!! a lot of stuff happened n i just couldn't write anything for a while, but now i'm back! this chapter is short but umm i hope u enjoy!

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"i just can't look, it's killing me."
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johnny was in an exceptionally bad mood. he didn't even know why he had decided to come on this trip–probably because he gave into his friends' coaxing. it didn't take them long to convince him. or he just didn't feel like arguing. probably the latter.

"cheer up, john," aster said, "you can't spend this whole trip moping about."

johnny rolled his eyes. "says you."

taking out his headphones, he huffed a sigh and plugged them into his phone.

coincidentally, mr. brightside began to play when he hit shuffle.

"I JUST CAN'T LOOK, IT'S KILLING ME."

not a bad song, johnny thought. he always did like the killers.

unfortunately, johnny's head began to throb from all the pounding music, not to mention all the alcohol in his system. fuck, he really shouldn't have drunken so much so quickly.

it was elsa arendelle's annual final-exams-are-over-let's-get-wasted party. naturally, johnny had studied to the point of his brain nearly exploding and he still managed to get low marks on pretty much all his exams, so
obviously the thing he needed most was a can of beer. or 6.

"alright, mate?" aster clapped a hand on johnny's shoulder. the impact of aster's hand on his shoulder alone made johnny feel dizzy. maybe he shouldn't have drunken 7 cans in...what, half an hour? 20 minutes?

"gonna go find a place to lie down," johnny nodded. aster gave him a thumbs up in reply, then ran off to probably mess around with girls.

johnny slowly walked up the staircase, gripping the railing as he went. his balance got worse and worse as he went higher up the steps, not to mention the absolute nausea he felt.

finally, he reached the top of the stairs. letting out a drunken whoop, he pushed open the first door he saw.

that's when he saw it. or, rather, them.

"NOW THEY'RE GOING TO BED. AND MY STOMACH IS SICK. AND IT'S ALL IN MY HEAD, BUT SHE'S TOUCHING HIS CHEST NOW. HE TAKES OFF HER DRESS NOW."

the voice of brandon flowers echoed faintly from downstairs.

"I JUST CAN'T LOOK, IT'S KILLING ME."

mavis and eret were together in that bedroom. together-together. doing things that johnny had never been allowed to do with mavis, not in their three years of dating.

"fuck, oh my god!"

"oh, shit..."

"johnny, i swear, we weren't–"

johnny felt his feet carrying him as fast as they could back down the stairs. he felt immensely sick. he could throw up at any moment, either from the sight of mavis and eret or because he didn't know how to hold his alcohol. probably both.