Okay, I wasn't lost. And I wasn't panicking. I couldn't panic.

I played with the hem of my leather skirt, nervously looking around. I really wished I was taller, so I could look over people's shoulders; not even wearing Lisa's high-wheeled boots I reached a decent height.

Standing on my tiptoes, I caught the top of a blonde head across the room. Then a dark head. Stepping to the side, I saw Lisa had found Elliot, her boyfriend. Sadly, I also saw Elliot was sticking his tongue down Lisa's throat. Which was gross, to say the least.

I glanced around the room after looking down at the red cup in my hand. I was close to the stairs that led to the basement, where Elliot's room was. I was one of the few people allowed in his room, and he said if I needed something, I could go there.

And right now, I needed space.

Successfully, I didn't spill anyone's drink and no one spilled mine. I also didn't slip on anything on the way to Elliot's room, although I only dared to say I was completely safe when I sat on his bed. I placed my soda on his bedside table, already finding another cup there. Someone must have forgotten it there.

I leaned back on my elbows, checking my phone. The music was loud, some new band everyone was talking about, but it was not loud enough to muffle the sound of the bathroom door opening, followed by a sudden thud. I got up, looking around.

"Hello?" The hallway leading to the bathroom was pitch-black. I fumbled in the dark, finally finding the light switch. It was empty.

When I was about to head back to Elliot's room, the thud came again.

"What th-" I turned around just in time to see a guy face-plant the floor. "Oh."

Was it now a good time to start panicking?

I waited for him to do something, but he didn't. He stayed that way on the floor for two solid minutes. I should make sure he was alive, right? Breathing in and out, not choking on his vomit or whatever. Just when I was about to go after Elliot, the guy turned around, a bright red spot on his forehead.

When he made no effort to get up or at the very least open his eyes, I kneeled by him on the floor. Even passed out-drunk, I had to admit that he was pretty cute. Raven-black hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring the bruise forming there. And he was incredibly tan, his caramel skin contrasting against the white of his t-shirt. If his eyes were blue, he would make the perfect combo.

But okay, this was getting weird. He should have woken up already, shouldn't he? I placed my hand on his shoulder the exact moment his eyes opened. And hello, blue eyes. They seemed to barely register me, before shutting again. The guy slurred something I didn't understand.

"What?"

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because… 'cause you're an angel."

I only stared, trying to figure out if he was joking.

"You're the one who fell and I know it must have hurt. A lot. Are you okay?"

When he didn't answer, I started to worry again. Did he have a concussion? How the hell was I supposed to know if he had a concussion?

"Hey! wake up!" I shook his shoulder. I tried to ignore how broad and hard they were, because for God's sake, the guy was passed out! But Concussion Guy still had said nothing. I exhaled heavily, looking at the ceiling. "God, why are you doing this to me?"

"Are you talking to your fella God?"

I startled. My head turned sharply to the boy's direction. The only evidence he had moved was that now his head faced the opposite wall.

"Is he a nice guy?" he continued, "I bet he is a nice guy, at least to angels like you."

"You're definitely not okay," I mumbled more to myself than to him. I tried to stand up, but he grabbed my hand.

"No, don't leave me." His hand gripped mine tightly. I looked from our entwined hands to his face.

Midnight-blue eyes stared back at me. I noticed his eyes were the most peculiar colour; so dark they were almost black. They were glassy, his pupils blown out, no doubt from all the booze he must have had. They roamed over my face, and for some reason, I felt blood rush to my cheeks.

"Okay" I let out a heavy breath. "But we've got to do something. Why don't you tell me your name?"

"It's… it's Rafffffffff" he slurred.

"Alright, Rafffffffff. Can you get up? Does anything hurt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you can get up or yes, something hurts?"

"Yes" Raffe repeated.

Patience. I needed patience.

I exhaled loudly. Letting go of his sweaty hand, I stood up and slipped my hands under his armpits. I pulled on his shoulders, but only managed to move him a tiny bit to the side.

"Come on Raffe, you gotta help me here."

He grunted something and with great effort, sat up. Raffe tried to stand, but his dark booted foot slipped on the carpeted floor and he fell on his butt. Despite myself, I chuckled.

"You shouldn't laugh at incapacitated people, you know," he mumbled. Rafffffffff recognized he was drunk. Good.

"I'm sorry," I say, a smile still in my voice. He touched the wall to his left, and after a few sways, he stood up.

I helped Raffe to the bed, stopping only to snicker at him when he tripped over his own foot. When he was about to sit down, he straightened – and poor guy, again he tumbled to the side – and reached for the bedside table. Before I could do anything, he had the cup I saw earlier in his hand and was drinking its contents.

"Hey, what's that? Is it more alcohol? You can't drink anymore!"

Raffe was about 6 feet, which made him almost a foot taller than me, so when he held the red cup above my head and laughed, I had no other choice but step on his foot. With all the strength I had in me. He cried out and let go of his drink. I watched, almost as if in slow motion, as the cup fell off his hand and splashed the front of my top. I gasped.

"Shoot. I'm sorry!" Raffe fell back against the bed in his haste to help me, but I paid no attention. I was looking down at Lisa's – now ruined – top. She was going to kill me.

When Raffe said nothing else, I looked up. He was staring me in the most weird way, his bloodshot eyes still glassy, but sort of focused now. Then, I realized he was actually staring at the front of my drenched top. My drenched, white top. His lips parted, but when he caught me glaring at him, he looked down at his feet, clearing his throat.

"Really, I-I'm so sorry" he ran a hand through his hair, still not looking up.

"Whatever" I mumbled. I knew I should have asked for help. I was going to ask for help. "Hey, I'm just going to…. I'll be back in five minutes."

Isn't that what Lisa said to me almost three hours ago?

He shot up so fast I startled and took a step back. Raffe gripped my shoulder. "Don't go. Please."

"Raffe, you're clearly not okay and n-" I stopped mid-sentence and watched as he doubled over and puked his guts out. On my shoes.

I caught him just as he tumbled forward, stopping him from face-planting the mess he made. He didn't try to apologize or say anything, which was good, because I would probably have punched him in the face if he did.

Not looking at my feet, I kicked off Lisa's boots and watched, barefoot, as Raffe scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the bathroom. I heard him grunt, fall and then puke again.

It was disgusting. But also sort of amusing.

I followed him and stopped at the threshold. Raffe's tall figure was crammed in the tiny bathroom, leaning against the toilet. I stepped over him and sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching as he vomited his guts out.

"Are you feeling bad yet?" His grunt was the only response I got. I didn't bother to hide my smile. "Do you regret drinking tonight?"

"No."

"No? That's a daring answer, considering your current state."

"If I hadn't drunk tonight, I wouldn't have met you."

Oh, well.

Honestly, I didn't know what to say to that. On the bright side, vomiting did good to him. Raffe seemed better now – still looking like a wreck, but at least a sober wreck.

"If I weren't laying on a toilet seat and and my mouth didn't taste like barf, I would've tried to kiss you, you know."

Now, I wrinkled my nose. Completely disgusting.

"You're hitting on me."

"I thought it was very obvious," he told me honestly.

I snorted. "I thought that was just you rambling."

Raffe laughed, despite the paleness of his skin and the sweat that clung his hair to his forehead. His eyes were more focused and his words didn't slur much. I guess puking did work.

"I'm sorry for puking on your shoes, by the way."

I shrugged. "Nah, it was actually funny. Lisa's gonna have a great surprise tomorrow."

He frowned, watching me. "You know Lisa?"

"Yeah, she's my best friend. Do you know her?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "You're Penryn."

That was not an affirmation.

"Yes."

"I'm Elliot's cousin. She's been talking about introducing us for like a week."

I raised my eyebrows, because that's totally something Lisa would do. She was a good friend after all. A slow smile appeared on my lips.

Raffe smiled back at me. After watching each other for a moment, he rested his head against his arms on the toilet seat. In a matter of seconds, his breath evened out. He would be passed out for the next few hours, or at least until his stomach decided to take its revenge on him. I might as well be here from him when he woke up.

A/N: Eh. I'd like to thank Jennie (brotherjem on tumblr!) for this. She wrote some AU prompts we could use to create our stories and when I saw this one, I knew I had to write a story about Raffe being drunk and Penryn having to help him. I liked this idea so much I might even write a tiny, lil sequel to this, like, about what happened the morning after Raffe passed out on the bathroom floor (seriously, do not ever pass out on the bathroom floor. It isn't cool, I'm telling ya.).

That's it, guys! Review, like, send a private message, smoke signal or whetever. I appreciate all your feedback. I'll talk to you guys sooooooooonnnnnnnnnnn.

Xx

*revised on 30/10/2020.