The party at Topper’s house is in full swing—music blasting, people everywhere, red Solo cups littering every surface. The air is thick with booze, cigarette smoke, and the kind of reckless energy that only comes from a night like this.

You’re draped over Rafe’s shoulder, your body loose, your mind a complete haze. Everything feels light—too light. You giggle, not even sure why, head lolling against his chest as he steadies you with one firm hand around your waist.

“You’re absolutely gone,” Rafe mutters, shaking his head with an amused smirk.

You blink up at him, trying to focus, but your vision is blurry, and the room spins slightly. “M’not gone,” you slur, poking his chest. “Still right here, baby.” Another giggle bubbles out of you, and Rafe exhales through his nose, trying not to laugh.

He adjusts his grip on you, guiding you toward the couch before you can trip over your own feet. “Yeah? Tell that to your legs,” he teases, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

You sigh dramatically, slumping against him. “Y’know what’s crazy?” you mumble against his neck. “I was gonna… was gonna say somethin’ important.”

“Oh yeah?” He humors you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “Like what?”

You pause, blinking like you’re trying to remember, before just giggling again. “Dunno… forgot.”

Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I think we’re done for the night, princess.”

You whine, nuzzling into his hoodie. “But I’m havin’ fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll see how much fun you’re having in the morning.”

For now, though, he just holds you—drunk, messy, and completely his.