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And the house was…kind of empty.
"Rafaelo, good on you to come!" Steve greeted him, coming down the stairs and shaking his hand. "And damn, you really went for it," he whistled as he regarded the bottle of alcohol.
“T-thank you," he strained a smile, keeping up his act as he strode deeper into the house.
"It's a bit early still, but why don't you grab a drink and mingle?" Steve advised, almost absentmindedly before going somewhere else.
Raf blinked, a little confused, but he did as Steve said, going to the bar and getting himself a glass of jungle juice.
He wrinkled his nose at the red liquid, but took a sip, surprised to note the fruity taste as well as the almost nonexistent alcohol.
If he'd come so far, he might as well try to enjoy himself.
The music was blaring out loudly, and soon more people started to trickle in.
He kept to his spot on the couch, nursing the same glass of jungle juice as he observed everyone.
Considering he didn't know anyone aside from Steve, no one really minded him. Especially with how he looked, huddled in his seat, his glasses askew on his nose, his blonde locks covering most of his face.
"I haven't seen you around."
He whipped his head around, noting the presence of a girl on the couch. She was also holding a drink in her hand, sipping casually as she assessed him.
“I-it's m-my first t-time," he strained a smile.
"Really?" she intoned, her voice grating on his nerves. There was something oddly fake about the cadence of her voice, a bitter taste erupting on his tongue. "Then aren't I lucky?" she continued, coming a little closer.
Raf kept his ground, merely nodding as she started talking about some subject he'd never heard of. But he wasn't paying much attention, his eyes skittering around the room as he took in the deluge of people, all moving their bodies to the music.
The room started to fog up as more and more people came inside, and the couch was a tight fit.
"You didn't tell me your name," the girl suddenly said, her hand on his thigh. Out of pure reflex, he jumped up, spilling his glass off jungle juice all over his white shirt in the process.
"Damn," he gave a low mutter. The girl's eyes widened, and she seemed a little put off with him as she soon redirected her attention to someone else. Just as well since Raf had no interest in her. And as he walked a little around the room, he realized he had no interest in what was going on around him either. He'd witnessed enough to realize it wasn't quite his scene.
He didn't get to exit the room, though, as he came face to face with Steve, who looked a little worse for the wear than before.
"Rafaelo! My man," he yelled to be heard over the music. "Come, let's get you a drink."
Raf was about to tell him that he'd had his drink and he'd spilled it too. But before he could say anything, he found himself led to another room where there were only guys drinking and laughing and smoking.
"This is my friend Rafaelo," Steve made the introductions, saying he'd met Raf in one of his classes while adding a few embellishments to make their relationship seem closer than it was. Why, Raf couldn't tell.
He was too confused by everything going on around him, and when he was offered another glass of alcohol, he simply accepted.
The worst was yet to come. Because one glass became two, then three, and then Raf lost count.
He realized he didn't have to speak, most of the other guys doing the talking for him as they boasted about the chicks they fucked, at some point all laughing when they realized they'd fucked thesameone.
"We have a tradition here," Steve told Raf. "If a girl fucks all the brothers in a class, she gets to make a wish," he chuckled, saying the girl they were talking about had one more guy to fuck before she'd reach that level.
Raf merely smiled, taking a big gulp of his drink.
His insides were fuzzy.
He was no stranger to alcohol, and he'd had his fair share of blackout moments in the past, most due to drinking to forget the pain of being stabbed. He'd always refused to drink with his father's men for fun, but he found the activity to be much more pleasant than he had imagined. Especially now that he was withnormalguys his age.
And as he got drunker and drunker, his stammer gave way to a natural slur that did not take into account his made-up persona.
