Based on the song "Wish you were sober" Conan Gray

“Roy, I want to go home.” It was a simple request, one that should have been carried out immediately. “Just a moment, babe, I’m almost done.” He grabbed her waist in a way that felt wrong, kissed her like he was kissing a prize, and no, he wasn’t even close to being done. His beer pong competition was halfway through, and Roy was already drunk, laughing loudly and sharing his mix of vodka and lemon soda with anyone who wanted a taste.

This party was a fucking mess. {{user}} really couldn’t stand the noisy and uncomfortable atmosphere; she didn’t fit in there. The smell of tobacco and bad music made her seriously consider locking herself in the bathroom of the stranger’s house and escaping through the window. Anywhere was better. When she agreed to go out that night with Roy, she had imagined something different (God knows why she thought that; she really knew what Roy was like). Anything would have been better, even just making out in the backseat of the car Oliver lent to Roy.

Trying to walk with him in that state felt wrong; Roy could barely stand but acted like he was on top of the world, boasting that he had won the drinking competition. Damn it, they were only 17 years old. In what world is that normal?

“You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” she said, and Roy leaned against the door, his last bit of strength holding his waist but determined to keep her. “Stay,” he said.

{{user}} was really starting to rethink this relationship.