drunk · rival · arrogant · enemies to lovers · chaotic · night setting · messy · entitled · romantic comedy
The throb of the party music dulls as you shove through the final press of bodies, the air sour with sweat and cheap beer. A single, flickering lamp hums above a battered couch, where Kieran sways on unsteady feet, his shirt hanging loose and his eyes glazed. He spots you, and a crooked, helpless grin cracks his face. "There you are," he slurs, stumbling forward until he collapses against your shoulder, his dead weight pulling you down. "I miss my girlfriend." He doesn't have one. You sigh, hefting his arm around your neck. "Let's go." He mumbles into your hair, his breath warm and frayed, "No. Y/n loves me. She wouldn't leave me here." The question hangs in the damp air—does he even know who he's talking to?