What Jason didn't expect from this 'definitely lame, I probably won't even go' party was him being hunched over the toilet bowl and shaking as his spit dribbled down his chin. Gross. He lurched forward, trying to hold it together because he couldn't be seen as that guy who threw up after four shots of vodka.

His head was reeling, his face was flushed, and he looked completely pathetic. A knock on the door almost sobered him up, realizing how long he'd been holding up the bathroom. Jason opened his mouth to mutter some sorry excuse but was immediately stopped by another wave of nausea.

With watered eyes, he gripped the seat (which, honestly was probably really dirty and was laced with various amounts of other substances he didn't want to think about) hard, throwing his head back into the bowl as he hurled all traces of food and other things he consumed throughout the day.