Since Arthur's life is practically a comedy of errors, Saturday arrived and Arthur was on his merry way to a party in which most of the senior class was attending. Even though Alfred's attire was his normal, laid-back, style, Arthur donned a dorky nerd-esque clothing, with a bowtie his mother tied after being told an obvious lie that her son was meeting Alfred's parents. And as per the plan, Alfred ventured off to the second floor of Antonio's lovely abide to survey who enters and exits any and all the bedrooms. While poor-poor Arthur was stationed on the first floor where all the drinking and dancing was occurring. However, Mr. Arthur sat, with a red solo cup in the cup of his hands, in the corner awkwardly observing those partaking in the dancing and the drinking.
The stench of alcohol was present in every spec of the base floor, and was even wafting up from the cup held firmly in his hand. All of the partygoers seemed to ignore Arthur's existence but Alfred was garnering attention left and right by every single person who traveled up the steps for a blissful night. Despite his best wishes to stay sober, Arthur stole sips of the pure vodka he poured into his cups, sips he grimaced at when the liquid touched his tongue turned into full on chugs resulting in his cup going dry. His head seemed to throb yet it seemed as if his perspective on the party was an out-of-body experience. The music turned from annoying to absolutely epic, every single word that was ever spoken turned into comedy gold, everyone appeared so incredibly sexy to his eyes that Alfred couldn't compare anymore, and Arthur Kirkland realized he was completely drunk from a single cup of vodka.
Arthur slowly, and with a slight stagger to his walk, ventured out and away from his corner. He refilled his cup, this time with bourbon that burned the back of his throat, and began to make friends with all the wrong people. The other equally as drunk patrons took a real shine to drunk Arthur's boisterous and obnoxious voice, and quickly allowed the blonde Brit to join in the rave of drug use and excessive dancing. Arthur didn't know the first thing about contemporary dance when he was sober, he didn't unlock the secrets of the universe when he became drunk either. His scrawny chicken limbs awkwardly moved to the beat of the music, his chit-chatter amongst the others simply sprayed the stench of vodka inhabiting his tongue.
"Do ya' know why I'm here!" Arthur said to some black haired boy with brown eyes, who was clearly sober and uncomfortable.
"Huh?" The boy, whose name was Kiku Honda, uttered whilst attempting to uncover an emergency exit out of the party. "Why, Arthur-San?" He continued in order to please Arthur.
"Cause, I fell in love wit' a boy n' I put some stupid letter in his locker! He don't know I put the note in his locker, n' now I'm helpin' him find out I'm the culprit!" Arthur began laughing as Kiku stared wide-eyed at the drunk boy in front of him.
"Who?" Kiku pried further, clasping his hands together by his knees-since he was sat in the corner that Arthur called home once before.
"Y'know Alfred? Mh-hm, that's him."
"Alfred-san?"
"Yeah, isn't he hot?"
Kiku lowered his gaze down into his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation occurring without his full-on consent. He didn't utter a single answer in return, since he knee fully well that Arthur wad going to yell at him regardless if he answered yes or no. Kiku was simply thankful that Francis came pushing out of the crowd to relieve Kiku of the drunken Arthur.
"Eh, sorry Kiku... Did Arthur bother you?" Francis inquired as he forced himself into the conversation.
"No-"
"We were havin' a pleasant conversation until you showed up, ya bloody frog!" Arthur's blushing complexion, due to the alcohol swirling around in his blood, immediately became a bright beet red because of his rising levels of anger.
"Oui-oui, I know mon ami. But let's get you back to Alfred." Francis cooed as an attempt to soothe Arthur's exaggerated anger.
"Alfred? But I have ta' watch this floor!" Arthur hollered over the pounding music, as Francis tried to forcefully tug Arthur away from the recluse that is Kiku. "Lemme go, ya cheeky snob!" The Brit protested, even though Francis' hold on him was very minimal.
But midway up the steps to the second floor, a wide-eyed frightened Alfred came rushing down the steps. His steps were a bit wobbly and it seemed as if he was in a rush to leave, though he hadn't guzzled down a single drop of alcohol-unlike his plus one.
"Bonjour, mon ami." Francis greeted as he handed custody of Arthur over to Alfred. "I think Arthur needs to go home... He's drunk." Arthur latched onto Alfred's arm and began to giggle like a school girl in close proximity with her crush-which is exactly what Arthur was.
"'Kay... I was plannin' on goin' home anyway..." Alfred replied with a tone weaker than his normal one, and it was drowned out by the electronic music radiating through and rumbling the house.
"Huh, is everything all right?"
"Uh yeah..." Alfred replied rather hastily as he began to descend the stairs with Arthur staggering along with him.
Before anymore questions could be thrown at his way, Alfred would've bolted free of that house and sprinted down the street to the comfort of his own home. However, with the addition of Arthur hanging onto him like a leech, Alfred was forced to speed walk out of the house-like a mother Black Friday shopping-with Arthur attempting to match his pace.
"Ngh, where are we goin', Alfred?" Arthur asked as a puff of cool air smacked him across the face and flushed out the scent of mixed alcohols from his nostrils.
"My place."
"Ooh~ isn't that a bit risqué!"
"Shut up, dude, you're drunk."
The reason why they were traveling to Alfred's house was because it laid smack-dab at the end if the street where Antonio's house lied. Oh, and also because Alfred was petrified for Arthur's sake if he delivered the poor Brit home while he was still intoxicated.
Once they reached Alfred's home, Alfred momentarily abandoned Arthur at the front door to flip on some light switches-since his parents were absent due to business. However when Alfred returned, Arthur's bowtie was undone and the poor sod was dry heaving and nearing a full on projectile vomit.
"Yo! Are you okay!?" Alfred cried as he rushed over to Arthur's side.
Arthur clutched at his chest, his chest feeling as if it were about to collapse and suffocate him. "Mhm... No..."
So into the nearest bathroom they went!
Alfred watched, from inside the door frame, in disgust as Arthur was leaning over the toilet and vomiting practically everything he ate for the entirety of the week.
"Dude, what did you drink?"
After Arthur concluded with a wave of vomiting, he spoke into the toilet thus giving his voice an echo tone. "A cup of vodka an' a shot of bourbon..."
"Straight vodka?"
"Yep."
"Ew, you're so gross."
"So are you."
The American disembarked from the bathroom to retrieve a water bottle az Arthur spit up the residue of vomit lounging about in his mouth. But upon arrival, Arthur was sprawled out in the floor, mumbling to himself before he laid eyes on Alfred.
"How was the investigation...?" Arthur weakly said, his senses slowly returning to him as his head throbbed with waves of pain.
Alfred nervously laughed as he set the water he set out for down beside Arthur's head. "I'm gonna wait and tell ya' when you're sober."
"I'm kinda sober!"
"No you're not." Alfred shot back, as Arthur unhappily snatched the water bottle into his arms.
"I'm gonna go to sleep!" Arthur proclaimed, sealing off his eyes and craning an arm and placing his arm on top of that.
"On the bathroom floor?"
"Wot? Tryin' ta' stop me!" Arthur argued as he began to tune any reasoning out, and was knocked out cold seconds after his proclamation.
Sighing, Alfred placed one arm underneath Arthur's knees and one underneath Arthur's waist, being able to lift the lightweight male up without much of an effort on his end. While carrying the passed out Arthur, Alfred ventured off to his room and set the Brit down on his messy bed, shedding off his bomber jacket and placing that over Arthur rather than the comforter that was shoved to the floor. Alfred grabbed a random pair of pajamas before he returned to the bathroom from earlier. He changed clothing, leaving his party clothes in the corner for later attendance, and flushed the vomit down the drain. He sighed once more before heading on down to the couch in the living room.