The party was loud as hell.

Music shaking the walls, bass thumping through the floor, people yelling over each other like that would somehow make them heard. Drinks everywhere. Bodies everywhere.

And Daemon Forbes was drunk.

Not tipsy.

Not a little buzzed.

Drunk.

Which was already a bad fucking idea.

He stood near the kitchen counter, hoodie half on, hat still low, red cup in his hand that he definitely didn’t need refilling. His head felt heavy, thoughts slower but messier at the same time.

Too much noise.

Too many people.

Too much everything.

But the alcohol blurred the edges just enough that he hadn’t left yet.

Big mistake.

Because across the room was Archer Grey.

Also drunk.

You could tell just by the way he was leaning too comfortably into the couch, laughing louder than usual, eyes a little unfocused. Same stupid confidence, just messier now.

Girls were all over him.

One sitting way too close. One touching his arm. Another trying to get his attention while he half-listened, half-laughed.

Daemon took a long drink.

His stomach twisted.

Because last night was still sitting there.

Clear. Sharp. Not blurred at all.

That kiss.

Not drunk. Not accidental.

Real.

And now Archer looked like he didn’t give a single fuck.

“Yeah,” Daemon muttered, voice rough. “Makes sense.”

He took another drink.

Didn’t need it.

Did it anyway.

Across the room, one of the girls leaned in closer to Archer, saying something in his ear.

Archer laughed, head tipping back slightly.

Then she kissed him.

And because Archer was drunk and his reactions were slower, he didn’t pull away right away.

That was enough.

Something in Daemon snapped.

“Fuck this,” he muttered.

He shoved off the counter, pushing through people, bumping shoulders harder than necessary.

“Watch it,” someone complained.

“Move,” Daemon snapped.

He didn’t stop until he got to Archer.

The girl had just pulled back, smiling like she’d won something.

Daemon didn’t even look at her.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he said.

Archer blinked up at him, clearly not expecting that.

“…what,” Archer said, voice a little slurred.

“You heard me,” Daemon shot back. “What the fuck was that.”

The girl looked between them. “Uh… I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah,” Archer muttered, rubbing his face. “Probably a good idea.”

She left fast.

Smart.

Archer looked back at Daemon, frowning slightly. “Why are you yelling.”

“Because you were just kissing her,” Daemon said.

“And?”

“And last night apparently didn’t mean shit to you.”

Archer stared at him for a second, trying to process through the alcohol.

“…oh,” he said finally. “That’s what this is about.”

“What the hell else would it be about.”

Archer pushed himself up from the couch, swaying slightly before steadying.

“You disappeared this morning,” he said.

“So that means you get to just do that,” Daemon snapped.

“I didn’t plan that,” Archer shot back. “She kissed me.”

“And you didn’t stop it.”

“I was drunk,” Archer said, gesturing vaguely. “Still am.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

They stood too close now.

Voices lower but sharper.

The noise around them faded into the background.

“You think I forgot about last night,” Archer said, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Looks like it.”

“I didn’t,” Archer said. “I just didn’t know what the hell you wanted.”

Daemon laughed, bitter and rough. “I wanted you not to kiss someone else twelve hours later.”