"'Go to this party man' 'I'll be fun I sweear'"
"Ain't that some bullshit.."
The raven haired male was whining against the bleak wall of this hall. His darkened eyes glanced around the room at the mass of people either dancing, making out, or other rather R-rated activities. They finally managed to land on a ginger haired man. Just towering over 6 feet tall, excluding the fiery red mohawk upon his head. Floyd Price, the host of this party, was the only person he knew. Little tip for people who haven't been to that many parties. If you only know the host, don't go, cause you know what that host will be doing? Hosting. Great job planning that one out Marshall, no really.
He grumbled into his cup of mixed beverages with a scowl, of course it would be exactly him that would be left out. The slightly off coloured punch swirled around in his cup, reflecting off of his glassy eyes. Was there anything else to do rather than just stare at juice? Believe me, he's usually the life of parties, but was in quite the grouch. He had, in fact, just been dumped. FOr good reason too, I mean, the girl was a complete bitch. But still, getting dumped was still a little bit of a punch in the gut. The reason of showing his face to this /and I quote/ 'stupid ass party' was actually to try and get him in a better mood. Didn't that fail.
And to make matters worst, it was one of those parties where talking is almost impossible, as the annoying house music pumping through the floorboards into his veins was so overpowering he couldn't even think straight. So trying to find some sort of girl to dance with would be near impossible. He ran a hand through his thick hair, pulling at the tips lightly. He wasn't happy.
He took a slow sip of the concoction in his hands, wincing at the foul taste. His long fingers tapping away at the edge of the red plastic cup, the bitten off edges of his nails made the tapping sound a little more noticeable. In his mind that was. His eyes were still lingering around the giant group of people. Scowling at everyone of those faces. It took another sip of the awful drink. Though putting less of a scene about it. It wasn't very good, but it was strong. Probably making this evening more enjoyable.
He could just leave? That was totally an option. Nobody would even notice his murky presence slip out of the double doors, into the crisp wind of the could probably do it in a clown costume, on a unicycle and no one would realise. On second thought, escaping would be easy. That's probably exactly what he'll do.
He walked up to this ginger haired, so called 'friend', slapped him on the back in a polite way and told him he was heading off. That's all he had to do right? He didn't have to actually talk to him, fakely thank him for the invitation, and slip out on some punt excuse like, 'Oh I'm not feeling well' or 'I got to go home and feed the cat' or maybe even 'I left the oven on!'. No no, he could just leave.
His mind began to wander over what was actually awaiting him at him. There's still some pizza in his fridge, plus some beer, and some old reruns of Friends? I guess that would do for this Friday night. Not the optimal position to be in, but that's how he has been living for months, one more night wouldn't hurt.
But just as the pissed off young adult went to escape this hell hole of sweaty bodies and tasteless music. Where he thought, there is now way in hell his night could be saved. No way jose. Just then, it was like his world stopped spinning for a minute. His eyes fell onto her. The girl who would flip this evening upside down.