In which Vox is repeatedly turned down by his one and only.
⌦ Fictional Story
⌦ genres:
⤳fluff, college au, comedy
↬ English isn't my first language, so please correct me if there are any big mistakes
↬ you can find this story on ao3 under my na...
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! description of being intoxicated ¡
3rd person
Head spinning and vision blurring till he couldn't even recognise his own hand in front of his eyes, Ike sat down on a radom couch somewhere in the hallway upstairs.
Was this still Shoto's house? Probably it was the purple haired's house because the, as he saw it, muffled loud noise called 'party music' and the indistinguishable voices of partying young people were still present.
How much time has passed? He didn't know.
Leaning backwards he wasn't careful enough to not spill the drink in his hands, his motor skills being strongly affected by the intoxicating liquids he had dumped inside his rather lightweighted body.
It wasn't that big of a deal that he spilled what he was drinking, by know his taste buds gave up on trying to recognise what he filled his mouth with, too drowned by various types of alcohol.
His head swung wobbly left to right, feeling like it'll fly away any second if he didn't hold onto it. Even when he was sitting down his upper body swayed from left to right.
Eyes trying to focus on anything within his range, he furrowed his brows as everything and anybody melted together as if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The pair of his glossy eyes weren't his only body parts that were unsuccessful with focusing. His mind kept thinking about something, without even knowing what he was debating on and so he never came to an conclusion.
That's why the boy with the blue hair tips just sat there in silence, trying to lean on the armrest without his body giving up completely.
His brain kept on forgetting what was getting him so worked up. Slowly he started catching on what he wanted to say.
"Where- the hell is Vo-x?" The boy silently slurred, as his own hands, which were tightly hugged by the by now drenched in alcohol fishnet gloves, made their way up to rub his sleepy eyes.
"What a- liar." He managed to say again as tried to stand up from the couch he just sat down on. The alcohol was probably having its known effect - he became more and more emotional over the fact that he lost Vox somewhere around the house without him. How did that even happen?
As he stood on his wobbly knees again, the cup which he held in his hands before long forgotten and laying somewhere next to the couch, he looked around. He had to admit that the couch was indeed very comfortable. If he hadn't lost Vox in the crowd of people, he would have taken a nap on the more than soft couch.
But there he was, slowly taking step after step and concentration on walking in a straight line, which didn't work out that well. You can't even talk about taking 'steps' he rather was stumbling around, his hands grabbing every furniture he could get his grasp on to prevent him from falling.
