"I. Am. A. Fucking. IDIOT!" you shout at yourself, grasping your head. It's been a week, and your phone has only vibrated with a reminder to recharge your credit. Puff didn't call. You force yourself to calm down. "Of course he didn't call, who was I kidding? He must be laughing at this right now." you think aloud, mumbling in a bitter tone. You walk over to your fridge, looking for a snack, but something more appealing catches your eye. It's a single, small bottle of green alcohol called Miduri. It's been flavoured with lemonade, and it's probably lost most of it's fizz. But it's something to forget how stupid you feel, and you grab it, almost breaking the delicate glass bottle as you drag it from the cold fridge. You slam the door shut, and down the drink quickly. Sure enough, it was flat as a tack. You raid your fridge again, but you can't find anything, so you grumble as you grab your bag, and check how much money you have. It's enough to go to the club. You fix yourself up a bit, and head out, hoping to forget Puff.
"He seemed so nice at the time…" you speak to yourself quietly as you walk on. "Doesn't matter. There's other fish in the sea." you sigh as you say it, knowing that there will NEVER be anyone as good as Puff.
You're outside the club, and you can hear the loud blaring of techno music inside. Sighing, you go inside, and instantly go over to the bar. You order one drink after another until you can hardly speak up to order more. You can feel your head throbbing, telling you that you can never do this again after tonight. Your arms fall beside you, dangling in the air as you rest your head on the table.
"Totally worth it." you mumble. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn your head. It's Puff. You glare daggers at him. He notices your expression, and frowns.
"Heh…I'm sorry?" he tries. You grab the last drink you ordered, but instead of downing that too, you thrust it in his face.
"You…you're a…you're a goddamn lie…liaa…LIIIIAR!" you struggle over your words, through being drunk and being surprised that he met up with you here, and had the nerve to touch you after not keeping his promise. He stumbles back a bit.
"I'm really sorry, I swear to god, I would have called but the guys forced me to do more music, and go to the beach, and shit!" he tries. You shake your head, and slam some money on the counter. You push your way out of your chair, and stumble towards the door.
You stare at your car, and through your clouded mind, you forget that you had anything to drink, and stumble over to it, ready to drive. You hear running behind you, as Puff catches up with you.
"_____, you're drunk, you can't drive." he protests, grabbing your arm gently. You shove him away.
"I don't need your help!" you shout at him. He's taken aback, and he doesn't move. But you do. You feel your balance shifts, and you fall over. You're about to be in a lot of pain when a strain around your stomach breaks your fall. Puff steadies you, and you sigh.
"Fine." you mumble, thrusting your back into his arms and falling against your car. He finds the keys, and you give him directions back to your house.
The drive back is uncomfortable, and silent for a while. Puff speaks up after a minute or two of quiet that brings ringing to your ears.
"I'm really sorry. I tried, I really did." he sounds upset, so you look at him, a pathetic look on your face.
"I'm hammered right now, I don't…I don't give a huck." he sighs, staring at the road ahead of him, his eyes visibly showing sadness. You close your eyes and embrace the drive until it jolts to a stop. Puff twists the key and the car shuts off. He looks frustrated.
"Can I help you sort yourself out? It's the least I can do since…since I…let you down…" he looks uneasy as he speaks, and you nod your head.
"I could use it." you admit. He almost goes overboard with the 'helping out'. He practically carries you into your bed, and gives you things like water, buckets, cold cloths for your forehead, and more. He sits beside you for a while, as you close your eyes with the intent of rest. No such luck, surprisingly. You can hear his breathing stumbling a bit, and you open your eyes, frustrated. He stares at his hands.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asks. You shake your head, and being drunk, you can't really help what you say next.
"I never wanted you to leave Puff. And I'm sorry I got so mad…I was really hoping you'd call. I guess I'm not that fly though, right?" he looks surprised, and he shakes his head.
"Of course you are! I told you, I could barely find time to masturbate it was so busy! Uh, I mean…uh…" he looks nervously at the door, and you giggle a bit. He shakes his head, and looks back to you.
"Yeah, whatever, the point is that if there had been time, I would have called you. I'm really sorry." you stare at him with threatening eyes.
"I swear to god, if you say sorry one more time…" he lowers his head so it's directly over yours.
"Then what?" he smirks at you as he speaks, whispering his words. You blink up at him, and his head lowers again, and his lips lock with yours. He's still until you respond, limply dropping an arm on his back. You're locked for a minute, no exaggeration. He struggles for air.
"I haven't had a kiss like that since I had my blow up doll of Britney Spears!" he can't stop himself from exclaiming, and he instantly smacks a hand to his face. You laugh a bit, and you shift under the covers.
"You'll stay?" you ask. He nods, and lays back.
"Lemme tell you a story. Once, there was an ending. And it was good." he says, then he chuckles. "That was terrible."
"Hmm." you raise your eyebrows in agreement.
"Oh kaaaaay, I'll give you a real one." he drones his words a bit, and you smile, relaxing, drifting to sleep listening to a time where Puff decided that murder was the easiest way to stardom.