Life is a school.

Don't look at me

Lilith's POV:
It's gotten late in New Orleans and the boys found out about my age which held us from going into the bars as we First planned. We got these huge ice cocktails in a Handgranate style kind of cup and just walked around bourbon street. They tell me about the buildings and that it's actually not famous for it's bourbon. After this huge cocktail, that was actually pretty strong, we got another one but this time a hurricane. A typical New Orleans cocktail. And one thing I noticed, Bourbon Street is not for natives, you hear lots of accent, tourist talk and watch out that no ones pukes on you. It is weird and pretty crowded but also kind of cool. We are slowly getting drunk and the conversations start to get really goofy and somewhat philosophical. We sit down in a less crowded area on a bench at some park. My vision is slowly turning and every time I take a sip from my hurricane I feel it slowly intensifying. "Lilith what do you wanna become when you're older? We never talked about that!" Ruby asks me and rests his head between his hands, that are cupped around his face. It looks cute the way he is sitting there. He is to my right and scrim is on my left. I lean back into the bench and think for a moment: "I would like to be an artist. But I feel like I shouldn't or couldn't afford it, you know what I'm sayin?" He shakes his hand, like yeah he is an artist and makes a living but that's different. "What kind of artist?" Ruby replies after emptying his Hurricane.
I think for a second: "a painter, or poet. I 'on't know. I also sang in bands long ass time ago." I close my eyes to let the world rest for a second. Ruby's eyes go bright and shining: "damn for real?! What kind of band?" I smirk, I always like this question it's so unexpected: "I was in multiple bands mostly punk or black metal." Ruby gets up and jumps like a little girl: "you kidding, right? I fucking love punk! What cha fav band?" He is trying hard to hold his southern accent back but it slips out time to time. I rethink my answer for a short time: "I like Karg it's a project from the singer of Harakiri for the Sky and I really like choking victim but I prefer the old stuff not much from Leftöver crack." He looks at Scrim with those eyes shining and smiling over his whole face: "you must be kiddin, I fucking love dem!".
We go on talking about the bands, music and our interests and it seems like we have lots in common.

Eric's POV:
This girl and I go into a small room that separated us from the others of the clique. It was clear where this was going but still my mind is torn between accepting the chance of fucking this woman that Lil will never find out about and dumping her.
But everything is going so fast, as soon as the door is closed she opens my pants and starts kissing me. My brain turned off the moment she sucked slightly on my neck and whispered in my ear. The way she went down on me felt so nice and the touch of her hands make my dick go hard. I smile slightly, this time I wasn't as dominant as normally, because all I wanted out of this night was some pleasure. She started to unpack my dick and started licking around it. It was just what I needed in that moment. After some time I started fucking her on the sink and she moaned my stage name while scratching my back. While coming a moan escapes my lips: „oh fuck Krystal, you're so good."
She slaps me in the face and gives me a serious look: „I'm not Krystal, ist that your fucking girl back home?" she leans against the wall while putting on her clothes back on. I shake my head: „I'm sorry, nah she's not. She was my student once." in my head this sounds more than wrong but my mouth won't function. She raises her eyebrow: „student? Are you a fucking pedophile or something?" My heart drops, the first day of being somewhat fame and already a scandal. "Yo bitch, come down, first no she was over 18 and second of all if you didn't realize that this was a fucking one night stand and we won't ever talk again, than you have a pretty twisted imagination. Don't talk to me like I mean something to you, bitch." I put on my clothes and run out of the room, grab the first drink that comes in my hand and chug it down. "Bro where've ya been?" This guy I met at the airport asks me. My world spinning faster and faster: "no where...". I grab another drink and throw a toast with him. At this point I'm utterly and completely wasted, again.
My night continues like this and everything vanishes inside the drinks.

The next morning, I wake up, my head is pounding from the alcohol. Everything is spinning and a miserable pain from the top of my back to my head is becoming worse and worse. Next to me an already filled bucket with puke smelling worse than I would've imagined. The smells drain my nose and another load is awaiting to leave my stomach. In conclusion I feel miserable. The world around me is still unnoticeable and irrelevant. I don't know where I am except that I'm in the state of California. I spend my day mostly sleeping, puking and laying around in bed. I noticed I'm in a motel room somewhere in LA. It's dirty and definitely not the best location to crash. The neighbors are loud, at least I hear them having sex from time to time. At least the female moans are very noticeable. I take a look at my phone 3 messages from Lilith:

Lilith🖤🪐:  Hey Eric, how was your show? Bet you delivered! The boys and I are going to the bars checking out the city!

Lilith🖤🪐: is everything alright?

Lilith🖤🪐: I lkve yoi🖤

A small laugh escapes my lips, she must've been pretty drunk in the last text. I decide to text her back real quick.

Eric👻: yeah I'm fine, these boys are partying hard. I'll be back soon my love🖤