Tumblr drabble Prompt: Leave a "Drink Me" in my ask, and I will write a drabble about characters drinking, alone or with each other.


Roof Top Punk


Annie always disliked the taste of alcohol; or rather that cheap kind these frat parties always distributed under the guise of 'Free booze!' It was just light-weight beer, and yet everyone seemed to love parading the piss-poor stuff around, acting as if they'd get wasted after downing one can.

She wondered why the hell she even bothered attending these parties in the first place; it didn't matter that she was invited via email from an old friend who barely had time for her. These parties were pointless and they represented nothing. People only went to get either drunk, high, or catch a booty call by the end of the night. Sometimes all three.

Not to mention, she was very much an anti-social, and this party was the antithesis of anti-social. Filled with loud-mouthed, obnoxious young adults who's faces she'd never seen before; the stench of stale weed and sweaty bodies permeated every room, it nauseated her to the point that she found herself lingering on the front porch for the rest of the night, a perspiring beer can in one hand, and her cell phone in the other.

Her battery was only at twenty percent too. Annie sighed, sitting on top the stair well. Her ride was probably in there getting black-out drunk—Hitch wasn't the most reliable person, and Annie realized she probably should have never dragged that girl into this cesspool of hormones, because Hitch wasn't the most responsible person either.

She should have invited Marlowe instead. But, knowing him, he would have caused a serious debate with the fraternity boys involving politics—which then would have turned into a heated argument, which would have escalated into an all-out brawl.

Yeah. Maybe it was better being alone after all. Annie sipped at her—disgusting but still something—beer, adjusting the straps of her tank-top, summer always made her skin feel clammy and gross, and she'd chosen today of all days to go with dark skin-tight jeans, and a spaghetti strap tank-top. Her beloved sweater had been left in the backseat of Hitch's car, as Hitch had persuaded her too— 'Leave it behind Annie—god! Do even wash that thing?!'

Annie scoffed at nothing. She'd find a way to make Hitch pay, for sure. But then again, she gotten herself into this predicament in the first place by coming to this god forsaken party. So, she was also to blame. Annie rubbed her forehead irritably, it was to goddamn hot to get angry about it now.

"This party kind of blows, huh?"

Annie groaned. "Yeah, it sucks."

She sipped idly at her beer, before choking on it a second later. Annie sputtered, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. "Who—" She coughed again, "Who said that?"

"Me."

Annie looked left then right, seeing nothing. Her beer was forgotten as she stood from the stairs, peering into the night. The drive-way was packed with cars, but not one person was outside. Strange. Nobody was hanging out on the lane either, and she'd been the last person to come through the front door.

"Uh…" Annie whirled around, maybe she imagined it?

"Up here." The voice said again. Nope, it was real. She took several steps backwards, craning her neck to inspect the roof, and sure enough, there, perched on the edge like some punk vigilante, was the owner of that ominous voice. A boy, with scruffy uncombed hair, dressed all in black. A stud glinted from his eyebrow, Annie squinted at it.

"Um?" She tilted her head, getting a better look at the boy. "What are you—"

"Don't ask." He grimaced, then twisted around to grab something behind him, he hollered a 'Heads up!' before tossing the item down, Annie caught it with ease. The chill of the beer can in her hands made goosebumps rise on her arms.

There was heavy thump of boots hitting the ground, and loud a 'oof!'.

"…Ouch." The boy groaned, keeling over, hands on his knees. Annie observed the mysterious punk, in the dim porch light, he appeared younger than the average university student. She wavered getting close to him. "…You okay?"

The boy mumbled something under his breath, straightening his back, there was a pop of his spine sorting into place, Annie cringed at the sound.

"Never better." He grunted, hobbled over to her, holding a gloved hand out. Several colorful rubber bands hung from his wrist, clashing with the morbid design of his clothes, which consisted of rips, tears, and patches of band logos on an old leather jacket. "Name's Eren." He greeted.

Though Annie was distracted eyeing his whole get up—as it was clearly hotter than lowest pits of hell right now—she wondered if he was even human, he wasn't even sweating.

"Um…" She placed the cold beer can in his palm, a bit too hesitant to look him directly in the eye, so she settled with staring at the bronze key that dangled from a thin chain on his chest. "I'm…Annie."

"Cool, uh, I kind of meant to shake your hand though." He shrugged, with a smile.

"Oh."

"It's alright." Eren nodded over to porch, where her forgotten beer sat, "Wanna' chill?"

Annie thought of declining. That'd be incredibly awkward—more awkward than being by herself, which she preferred, by the way. She didn't even know this guy, nor had she ever seen his face around campus before. He just appeared on the roof, and now he was asking her to join him in drinking, and maybe mindless chatter. She couldn't do mindless chatter! She was going to say no.

But her brain seemed to malfunction, and the most embarrassing thing left her mouth instead.

"We can't chill, it's too hot out."

She mentally face-palmed. If her face wasn't red enough before, it sure was lit like a tomato now. She heard a light-hearted chuckle from Eren, "It is, isn't it?" He turned to her, and she had the resolve to look him in the eyes, very, very bright green eyes. Annie flushed a darker shade.

Eren shook the beer in his hand, before popping it open, foam spurted out as expected, coating his gloves in the sticky substance. "What better way to cool off then to share a drink with a stranger?"