Prompt Post #1

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Comments

Re: [FILL]: "Never Again" 5/7

[(Anonymous)]

Still, things didn't get really terrible until after he drank the tequila.

He had been waiting for Foggy what felt like a long time, the beer that soaked his shirt drying slowly and stickily against his skin. Matt was just about to get up and look for him, taking his chances with the crowds, when he felt the leather cushion dip as someone sat down next to him. It was still hard to focus, but he caught the scent of sandalwood and vanilla perfume, the soft rasp of a leather jacket over her shoulders, the heavy click of her heels as they tapped against the hardwood floors.

“Hey, handsome,” a woman's voice purred. “Want a drink?”

“Ah- not really?” he said. “I- I think I've probably had enough for tonight.”

“Oh, c'mon, hun,” she said, scooting in closer. Matt tensed at the sudden invasion ofhis personal space. “Don't tell me a man as hot as you can't hold his liquor.” She trailed a hand reverently down his arm, then rested it on his thigh and squeezed.

“That- that's not, um,” he stammered. His tongue didn't seem to be working quite right anymore. “I mean, I- I just. Think I've had enough?”

“Hun, it's only an hour into the party. You really going to give up now? The fun's only just getting started,” she purred and leaned in closer, practically draping herself over him. He could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“I- I think maybe you've already had enough,” he said, trying to push her out of his lap. “R-really, I- I appreciate, the, um, the offer, but- but. No thanks.”

“Awww, c'mon,” she wheedled, and he could hear the pout in her voice. “It's my birthday. You don't want to disappoint a girl on her birthday, do you?”

“Sorry, I still don't-” but he was interrupted by a shout from behind him.

“Oooh, Rosa! Did you say it was your birthday?” It was a girl's voice, one that sounded vaguely familiar. Was she maybe in his Spanish classes? He didn't have time to think about it, however, as she was suddenly shouting over the surrounding din. “HEY EVERYBODY! ROSA HERE IS HAVING A BIRTHDAY. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!”

“BIRTHDAY SHOTS!!” the crowd screamed back at her, and Matt winced at the noise.

There was a lot of clatter and motion after that; he could hear bottles being opened and a lot of glasses clinking, along with a bunch of excited shouting and chatter that all blurred into a single, roaring wave of sound. It drowned out everything else, and Matt found himself pressing back into the sofa as far as he could go in an instinctive attempt to get away from the overwhelming noise.

Eventually he heard the clinking glass noises coming closer, and a shot glass was pressed into his hand. There was another roar as the crowd shouted a disjointed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”, drank, and cheered again. The noise seemed to drive a spike right through Matt's skull, and he found himself breathing faster. Out. He needed to get out of here, right now.

Before he could get up, though, Rosa was back in his ear. “C'mon, handsome,” she said. “You don't want to be the only one who won't toast my birthday, do you?”

Matt sighed. If he didn't drink now, he'd be stuck holding a full shot glass, as there didn't seem to be a table anywhere nearby to set it down. At least if it was empty he could leave the glass on the couch, even if the thought made him cringe. He'd need to get rid of it somehow, anyway, if he wanted to get out of here. And if he drank it, maybe this Rosa would finally leave him alone. Then maybe he could find somewhere quiet and recover enough to find Foggy and go home.

Besides, as bad as he was already feeling, how much worse could one shot make things?

Matt drank.

Re: [FILL]: "Never Again" 6/7

[(Anonymous)]

He left the couch as soon as he could, intending to head for the kitchen-- surely that's where Foggy would have gone?-- or possibly the patio, where he could at least get some fresh air. But his plan was interrupted by the sudden nausea that found him halfway through the room.

A wave of goosebumps washed over him, followed swiftly by sickly fever-heat. His stomach rolled and it felt like someone had reached inside him and clenched their hand inside his chest. He knew very suddenly that he was going to throw up.

“Oh,” he mumble-moaned. “Oh, God.” He staggered away, bumping into people who shouted and pushed back at him. He didn't care. He searched his alcohol-fogged mind for the directions he got earlier in the evening. Bathroom, bathroom. Where was it? He couldn't remember. He tried to stretch his senses and at least find a wall to lean on, but it was no good. The whole world was just a blur of heat and noise and stench, impossible to separate into individual objects.

No. He clenched his teeth and pushed the nausea down. He could do this. He could do this. He'd dealt with worse than this before, when he was- when he was training. He could deal with this. The mind controls the body. He just needed to- to find the edge of the room. Something solid to ground him. He took a deep breath, doing his best to ignore the whirling masses around him, and focused.

There. The wall of the living room, maybe ten feet to his left.
He moved towards it, weakly pushing his way through the people on the outer edge of the crowd. The spinning seemed to be getting worse, because each step felt like there were vines around his feet, reaching out to trip him. His skin was hot but he couldn't seem to stop shaking.

After what felt like ages, his fingers hit the wall and he was able to steady himself a little. He pressed his forehead against the wall and tried to breathe.

It wasn't enough. The ocean of noise was still there, too loud, too close. He needed to find someplace quiet, someplace without any people.

It takes him a long time, too long, really, but he eventually remembers hearing about the bedrooms upstairs. They should be quiet, right? Quieter, anyway.

His head throbbed again, painfully, and he swallowed. Further planning was beyond him at this point. He kept one hand on the wall and staggered toward the stairs and the quiet that (hopefully) waited at the top of them.

Re: [FILL]: "Never Again" 7/7 COMPLETE :)

[(Anonymous)]

He wasn't sure how much time passed after he stumbled into the empty bedroom and ended up draped over this chair. The endless noise of the party downstairs was thankfully muffled, but his head still ached and the nausea just wouldn't leave him. He thought for sure he would throw up every time he moved, but instead his stomach just churned endlessly.

He zoned out after awhile, running one finger along the embroidered seam of the much-abused chair, over and over. The motion was soothing, and the rough texture distracted him a little from the awful, unrelenting ache in his stomach. He half considered pulling his phone out and listening to some kind of ambient noise, something that would help block out the distant drone of music and too-loud conversations that filtered up from the party below. But every time he thought about moving, the nausea got worse, and it just seemed like too much effort. He stayed where he was, and in the end he fell into a sort of doze, drifting in and out of awareness.

Eventually, he became aware of a distant sound, hovering at the edge of his hearing. It sounded like... thumping. It sounded a little like someone boxing. Was the TV on? Was that it? Did he- did he fall asleep watching the game again? He was sleepy and disoriented and he couldn't quite remember where or when he is. Someone was shaking his shoulder.

“Matt. Matt. Hey, Matt!”

He frowned, and uncurled a little. That voice. He knew that voice. Who--?

“Matt. C'mon, buddy, wake up. You're really scaring me here.”

Oh, right. “Fog- Foggy--?” he murmured. He heard a sigh of relief like a gust of wind from somewhere high above him.

“Oh thank God,” Foggy said. “Matt, are you okay? I've been looking for you everywhere. I went back to that couch and you'd just disappeared. What happened?”

Matt moaned and slumped back to the floor. “Dunno,” he mumbled. “Feel sick.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Foggy agreed. “You had me worried. I came in and you were just, like, passed out on the floor. You looked half-dead.”

“Nnnnnngh. Dead might feel better,” Matt mumbled.

“Yeah, I've had nights like that,” Foggy agreed. “C'mon, let's get you up and get you home. You can sleep it off there.”

Matt groaned in protest as Foggy pulled him up and slung one of Matt's arms over his shoulder. “Don't throw up on me, okay?” Foggy said.

“No promises,” Matt muttered, but he was feeling a little better. Maybe whatever it was was starting to wear off.

“If you're going to throw up on me, just give me a warning so I can drop you.”

“You're not gonna drop me.”

“I totally will, dude.”

“You won't,” Matt said, and he still felt miserable, but it wasn't quite so bad, anymore. Not with Foggy here.

“Hey,Foggy?” he said.

“Yeah, Matt?”

“Never-- never convince me to play beer pong again, okay?”

“Okay, Matt. You got it. Never again.”

Re: [FILL]: "Never Again" 7/7 COMPLETE :)

[(Anonymous)]

This was a really great story, authoranon!

Re: [FILL]: "Never Again" 7/7 COMPLETE :)

[(Anonymous)]

Now that is just a horrible night.
^_^