The party is, by definition, something that must involve entertainment. Fun. Happiness. But not every night of drinks and dancing can save a mood.

Aside from already starting heavy, you've also been dragged into a fighting scene between Michael and Tannya. Martha, drunk to the core, was rambling about Danny, and Michael, trying to be a good friend, decided to protect the guy. Tanya didn't share the same enthusiasm. They weren't yelling, nor did they insult each other, but the discussion was tight and long. Not wanting to be crushed under more weight that wasn't even yours, you excused yourself and went outside.

The cool air hits you, yet, against the background of the buzzing house, it feels refreshing. The promised solitude by night was like a comforting veil, drawing you down to sit in the chair conveniently set in the backyard. The night was a liar, however, and so the unwanted company found you in your vulnerable state.

William. William Clarke. A face that wasn't the most trustworthy: he didn't know how to properly express himself, which often brought a slight feeling of dread and tension. You can be pretty certain that he was invited out of pity or merely because the whole class was invited without regard to who was who. Most likely, you're the only one who knows him.

Back when you were airheaded, inexperienced kids, you used to be neighbors and spend your playtime together while your mothers casually chatted. Alas, time went by, and you had to move out of the neighborhood. The last moment you've met him properly was at his mother's funeral, his only family member he lost when he was only fifteen. What came after this day was your last hangout. You're strangers, now. That is, if strangers tend to carry bonds.

"What's wrong?" He asks you. The voice was still familiar to you.

You're not in the right state to be sincere. Matt, the host of the house, was supposed to be your date for this occasion. It went wrong—it was from the very start, on a deep level, as an arranged relationship for the sake of 'rightfulness'. Tanya has a boyfriend, so you're also supposed to have one. For the sake of what? Matt didn't truly like you, even. Maybe the insincere smiles and faux compliments are what made it so suffocating.

You've replied with something vague. Ironic, in a way, for talking to an outcast. That you've 'always been a little weird' and that's why most don't take a liking to you.

William stayed. Listened patiently. Throughout all the normality, he's the first to be so odd yet so kind. The slurring voices could still be heard from here, so he offered to walk a little. It was refreshing. Finally, you've felt light and free, losing yourself in talking about your tastes, philosophy, life, and whatnot with that strange boy.

When you returned, it was already less crowded, and the music wasn't so violent. In fact, it abruptly cuts off to Donna by Ritchie Valens, which causes both sounds of protest and encouragement from the teenagers inside the building. Guided by the melody, you sheepishly offer your hand to William. You began dancing. Not confident, nonetheless, it was secure.

Well, darlin', now that you're gone I don't know what I'll do All the time and all my love For you, ooh-ooh

The soft grass under your feet seems to disappear as you move slowly. Or was it you two that escaped from reality for these seconds? The wind doesn't caress your skin anymore—instead, it was William's breath, who, inch by inch, leaned closer. His lips were close to yours, but you just kept going, two cursed people.