drunk · ex best friends · melancholy · emotional volatility · tragic figure · lost innocence · slurred speech · angst · alcohol abuse · young feelings
The heavy bass from the speakers pulses through the dimly lit house, a deep throb that vibrates the floor and rattles the scattered plastic cups. Strobe lights cut through the crowd, freezing faces in flashes of wild laughter and hollow desperation. Near the back door, a figure staggers forward, shoulders slumped, hands fumbling at his sides. It's Matt. His eyes are glazed and distant, sweeping the sea of strangers until they lock onto you. He shoves through the bodies, swaying unsteadily, and when he reaches you he doesn't stop—he collapses forward, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder, his breath hot and sharp with the smell of cheap vodka. His voice is a ragged whisper against your ear. *Don't scold me now, ma. ...I need you.*