AN: First off, I actually usually write K2, so this was an accomplishment. Secondly, this was for 78 in the 100 themes challenge. Check me out. Thirdly, I don't think I have any warnings for you here. Unless you hate really drunk teenagers, and some gay yearning. But if you did, you wouldn't have clicked amirite? Anyway, feedback is always appreciated, and enjoy.
Kenny was lost. Five minutes ago, Kyle and Stan had left him sat by two kids from the lower year who were apparently hooked onto one anothers faces. They still weren't back. Kenny realised this meant that he must search for them himself if he wanted a reunion.
He got up off of the sofa, feeling that it was probably for the best anyway, else he was probably likely to have underage kids fucking on top of him. He could think of better ways to spend this party.
He was hit almost immediately with a headrush, as the reality of how much he'd drank came and slapped him right in the face. He stood around awkwardly and tried to focus on his surroundings. It was hard to feel cool when he was quite obviously alone. He sifted through the crowds of people, not really heading in any particular direction. He couldn't even remember where they'd gone. And they probably wouldn't be there now anyway.
He eventually settled for sitting on the stairs, hoping he'd catch them at some point. He could tell already that the alcohol was not having a good effect on him. He figured that if he were a chick he'd be the girl crying hysterically in the toilets right now. He was aware that Stan & Kyle were probably seperated from one another already. Kyle was probably opting for a similar "sit around looking uncool and wait for someone I know to walk by" tactic to Kenny. Stan was probably getting laid.
Kenny leaned back against the stairs. On any other day, this would probably be really uncomfortable. Right now, he was too drunk to even feel anything besides the unsettling rate at which his head was spinning. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The way things were going, puking all over somebody's staircase was probably the least embarassing thing he'd do tonight.
He considered possible candidates that Stan may or may not be sleeping with. He considered the fact that he was pissed that he didn't make the shortlist. But then again, who's shortlist did he make?
Kenny found that as far as relationships went, his track record wasn't very good. It went usually went like so: He only ever wanted someone who was most likely unobtainable. If the object of his desire wanted him back, it only ever went one of two ways. A brief, intense relationship that ended abruptly, caused him two days worth of angsting and then back to step 1. Otherwise it would result in a relationship that was pretty much over as soon as it started as he realised that now the object of his affections was available to him, they just weren't attractive anymore.
That wasn't to say that he never really liked anyone. It was just anybody he felt was really worth it didn't seem to look at him twice. Or looked at him in the completely wrong way.
He sat up and frowned. He didn't want to get into feeling sorry for himself. He didn't want to get into feeling all bitter and angry either.
Maybe he could get away with a sudden, over-emotional confession tonight. He could get the rejection over with now, cry it off whilst he was still wasted, and act like it was nothing the next morning. This is the most embarassing thing that could happen right now. But he was starting to warm to the idea.
He heard a door open on the landing. He went back to trying to look cool.
"Ken?" He turned around and looked up to the top of the stairs. He caught sight of Stan and Kyle, just a little bit before they awkwardly pulled away from one anothers hands.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then a rush of anger. How could Kyle get there first? He doesn't even drink that much! He's got no excuse.
Kenny felt himself starting to laugh. He buried his face into the nearest step and started to giggle uncontrollably. He felt two sets of eyes watching uncomfortably as he hugged the stairway in hysterics. Whatever. He could stay here, with his eyes shut tight. He could laugh it all off. He could stop here all night, and laugh until he choked. It probably wouldn't make him feel any better.
There were hands on his shoulders. The spinning in his brain was picking up speed. The nausea was about to hit bad. He was going to wake up somewhere covered in vomit, and that was funny too. Somehow, that wouldn't be the worst part of his night.
Somehow, he couldn't get any lower.