make it easy | young royals ✓

four

August

The lights flash in an irregular pattern, and I feel the roaring music deep in my bones, it escapes through the open windows into the night. Squeezing the can of soda in my left hand, I sit between two girls their names I know faintly of. My eyes are scanning for Wilhelm, wondering if he's going to show up after all. The crowded, crazed atmosphere should excite me, but it doesn't, and I'm laughing offhandedly at whatever's being said in my circle of friends.

"And there's the prince!" Harry roars, standing up from across me and giving Wilhelm a handshake in greeting. The group unanimously starts talking in excitement, and I take a swig of the liquid, tasting nothing. Wilhelm appears content enough, so I don't bother him other than throwing him a relaxed smile.

Looming at the back of my mind, the constant reminder of my physics test distracts me from enjoying myself. I'm not doing well in the subject, barely floating above what I can manage to spare for valedictorian. I'm fully aware that I should be studying right now, and not partying on a Friday night when the most words I've said is "hello!" and "you've came!". I have my entire life to party when high school is over, am I so willingly letting myself ruin my future with one stupid decision?

"August, man, you look like you've drunk something sour," Nils exclaims loudly, earning chuckles from the group.

I glance around and sees that Wilhelm didn't decide to join in the seniors after all. He's probably making out with that socialist somewhere in a dark corner. I would too if it meant forgetting everything for just a second. But Felice won't look at me ever since she learnt what I've done, and Sara has been no more than a few drunken kisses and mistakes. My notoriety as a player is starting to wear off, and in truth, I don't give two ounces of care for it anymore.

My gaze rests on the bottle of vodka in Vincent's hand, and I lunge for it, grabbing the sleek neck of the bottle.

"Not too much, okay? This is precious cargo." I hear him say, but it's all muffled like there's a solid barrier between me and the world. I unscrew the cap and take a long swig, the liquid burning my throat, my nose and my upper body instantly under the curse of the strong alcohol. I nearly throw up when the girl beside me takes the bottle away from my lips, laughing as she hands it back to Vincent.

"Dude, what the fuck."

My chest heaves, and I close my eyes, instantly regretting everything I've just done. My head is swinging like a pendulum, and the taste remains disgustingly in my mouth.

"Lots of stuff on my mind," I manage to say.

The guys roars with laughter, and one even claps me on the back. I let my lips pull back in a foolishly executed grin, and lean back in my seat, eyes closed to relish the music. When the bottle gets passed around again, I take it, and relive the burning sensation once more. This happens for a few rounds before my head is spinning and heavy.

"I'm going to get some air," I mutter as loudly as I can as my throat is hoarse, but no one is particularly listening to me either.

The cool summer breeze hits me like an iced bucket of water, and I feel as if I can finally breathe again, away from the stuffy, crowded confines of the abandoned building at the edge of the campus. The music is distant yet neighbourly all at once, and I find a ledge by the edge of the building, slumping down against it as I try to regain some control.

When I lose control, I'm terrified.

I wonder if it's the alcohol in the system making me particularly nostalgic, because I'm the young child I was years ago, standing beside my mother at my father's funeral after he killed himself. A part of me always blamed myself for his death. If only I've spent more time with him, or played football with him in the backyard, or showed him my race car toy collections. Would he still be alive? He'll never get to see me graduate, and take over his company. In a way, I'm almost glad that he won't have to see me fail.