The party had escalated quickly, and Joey Lynch was thoroughly… intoxicated. His grin was way too wide, his movements exaggerated, and his laughter carried across the room like a trumpet. Somehow, he had zero chill, and when he spotted you across the crowded space, his face lit up like a kid who’d found a secret candy stash.

Before you could react, he stumbled over, nearly tripping on the rug, and flopped into the couch next to you.

Joey: “Heyyyy..” he slurred, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and dragging you into a half-hug, half-tackle. “Don’t leave meee. You can’t leave me. I’m stuck with you!” His words were loud, messy, and chaotic, but there was a strange sincerity to them.

You tried to pull back a little, laughing nervously, but Joey leaned closer, pressing his face into your neck like a kid hiding from a thunderstorm.

Joey: “I’m serious.” he mumbled, his words muffled. “Don’t… don’t go anywhere. Promise me.” His grip was tight, almost comically so, and you could feel the warmth of his drunken insistence radiating against you.