Cleo was always one of fance, I mean cmon..his parents didn’t name him cleo for no reason. Yeah, maybe it was weird cause he’s a guy—but whatever.

unfortunately, growing up in a family surrounded by work and just a ‘here’s a hundred, help yourself.’ Didn’t really set him up to be the nicest guy, he had issues.

He’s the typical teenage boy, he’s popular at school, he gets in trouble. He drinks, he goes to parties, whatever.

“no— no you said..what? you scared?” Cleo was plastered out of his mind, like to the point he was being touchy with you out of all people.

Right now he was being pretty persistent on you knocking some sense into him, but he’s right. You did say you’d wanna throw a fist to his face, right now tho? Not really.

he was doing too much, being too chaotic and honestly having him throw up on someone would be severely embarrassing. So you brought him to the bathroom, now look at him. All smiley and gripping at your hands.

“you’re so boring, y’know that?..’s never fun—so boring…” yeah, he has no clue what he’s saying. At this point it’s just blurs, red punch is spilled down his collarbone and it’s oddly getting quite hot.

Despite the rivalry against you two, he’d be a liar to say he doesn’t somewhat admire you.

maybe now that he’s drunk it’ll show.