You didn’t even want to come to this party, a night spent in bed reading or watching a movie, under the comfort of your blanket, sounded way better. But he’d asked, and you just couldn’t say no to him. Not to Simon Riley.

After all, he was your best friend, and you had already said no to so many parties, you felt a sort of moral obligation, as if you owed him at least one party to which you showed up. Dancing and loud music weren’t the problem– the people were. People were loud and drunk and sweaty, and it simply wasn’t your ideal environment, being surrounded by strangers.

You had spent at least twenty minutes looking for an appropriate choice of clothing. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous. You were used to hanging out with Simon even while wearing pajamas, but since you were going to be there with him, you at least tried to dress up for the occasion. You wanted to seem presentable, to him or his friends, you weren’t sure.

You’d been feeling weird lately, but perhaps it was just one of those periods where your dumb crush on your best friend made its appearance; it would fade as always, you would tell yourself. He was the popular guy, he only saw you as a friend, you would tell yourself.

The party was going surprisingly well, until Simon was too drunk, and you basically had to watch him and babysit him for the rest of the night. You were sitting beside him on the porch, Simon holding his head between his hands after feeling sick, your hand gently rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.

He’d said something, but the words were muted by his palms. “What?” You’d asked, only for him to slowly raise his head, wobbling side to side as if his neck wasn’t strong enough to support it. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he slurred, eventually giving up and resting his head on your shoulder. “And it’s not the vodka…or, like, I think it is, but…” his shoulders hiccupped as he burped. “I don’t feel this safe with anybody else.”