𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀 , 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐲

◈ forty-two ◈

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Forty-two

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cw: underage drinking, (alcohol and tipsy behavior)

Sometimes, people make mistakes.

(revised phrase) A lot of times, people make mistakes.

(revised phrase #2) People make mistakes.

'People' as in me.

I have made a huge mistake.

This mistake technically could've started when I met an entire group of people at a strange cabin in the Canadian woods last December. But, I would say my mistake happened the days leading up to a very particular moment. A horribly particular moment.

"b*tch." I muttered under my breath, smiling as Alex fell onto the couch, laughing hysterically,

"your b*tch." He said in-between giggles, I ignored how the remark left a pink tint on my cheeks.,

"it's not even funny, you're not funny." I sighed, putting down my yarn and hook on the coffee table. "I hate all of you."

"C'monnnnn Irisssss," Ranboo smiles, drawing out his words, "it's quite funny."

"I'm hilarious!" Alex exclaimed, eyes glazed over with tears of joy, "f*cking hilarious!"

I roll my eyes, tilting the bottle back gingerly to take another sip, "you're not."

"agree to disagree, yes?" He smirks, giggles in his tone as he speaks.

"Fine." The vodka burns against my throat and I exhale deeply after putting the bottle back down, Ollie looks at me with a cross expression,

"Please, Iris, you're like a sister to me." She pleads, "one sip."

"No alcoholism at your age is allowed." I sighed, waving off the teen as Alex continued to snicker on the carpet.

"But I want to be like all the child celebrities," She complains, "I wanna go down in flames."

"Not allowed." I tsked, tipsy tone dripping from my words hazily, "final word."

"You let Ranboo have a couple sips!" She challenged, "Favoritism!"

"I let Ranboo have a couple sips because he's a f*cking lightweight." I retort, watching as Ranboo laughed into Vee's hair.

"this is discrimination." She shakes her head, "I'm contacting my lawyer about this."

"I'm your lawyer!" Alex says, bursting into laughter, which leaves Ollie to sigh overdramatically.

The night goes on, for it was comfortably chill and easy going as always. And it died down as it usually did, with all the teens passed out along Alex and I's furniture.

"We're the ones that are drunk, yet we end up cleaning up." I whine, tossing some paper plates into the garbage.

"Society." Alex says, "We're right at the bottom."

We clean in comfortable silence, washing stray dishes laid about and carefully placing a blanket over three sleeping teenagers.

"This scene feels familiar," I snicker, smile reaching my lips.

Alex continues sorting through some mugs as he hums, "What do you mean?"

"we're both drunk, in a kitchen." I say, he watches me cautiously as I take another sip of the vodka, drinking it like water.