𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✧ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ✧

| the boy who broke your heart |

Steamy?

Warnings: kinda steamy kiss with Billy Hargrove, mention of alcohol, mention of drugs

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were obsessed with going to parties. Not for the fun of it, or to meet new people. You were obsessed with going to parties purely for two reasons: to escape, and/or a good fuck from a random stranger. You were crazy in love with the feeling of crashing at a random house, drinking until your mind was fuzzy and dancing in sync with the music to forget all of your problems. It was your way of feeling free and to get away without a single worry in the world. Especially after getting heartbroken.

It was one of the worst emotional pains to experience, in your opinion. You were in love with someone two year's ago, and he seemingly loved you too. A boy with a buzz cut, by the name of Eddie Munson. You were joined at the hip and you foolishly liked to imagine marrying him someday. But one fateful day, you learnt the truth. That being that your entire relationship was a dare that he had accepted. He begged you not to hate him, saying that he regretted it but after that day, your family conveniently moved away and you never saw him again.

This particular evening, you were feeling overly drowned in your sorrows. So, when the moon replaced the presence of the sun, and the partiers came out for the night, you slipped into one of your dresses, applied light make up and did your hair. It was safe to say that you felt like a million dollars, and your plan was to go to a party and wake up the next day with vague memories of the previous night. You had heard people mentioning a party that was supposedly happening tonight that Billy Hargrove would he hosting, and despite not being invited, you would sneak in like you were used to.

With a confident stride, you left your home with nothing more than an intention to forget yourself and your troubles, along with a purse with a few make up products. It wasn't hard to find the exact address, as it was blaring music and there were people littered on the front lawn, some sitting on the front porch. You smiled and strolled casually down the pathway, walking passed drunk individuals. Once you made it inside, you were hit with the smell of drugs and loud music and to you, it felt like home.

You swerved through the heavy crowds of people, making your way towards what you guessed was the kitchen. You did what you always did first; you grabbed a red cup and filled it with the nearest bottle of alcohol. It took you less than a second to down the strong liquid, face screwing up slightly. You went for another, and another, and another until your head felt fuzzy and your vision was hazy. A smile tugged on your lips and you screwed up the cup, lazily throwing it on the counter before moving into the crowd of dancing, grinding and hormonal people.

The music was pounding, and you could feel each heavy beat through the floor, the sounds filling your head. Your eyes closed as you moved in time with the music, hips swaying and arms moving seductively around your body. The environment of the party was what you knew. Smell of drugs, underage drinking, music so incredibly loud that it's impossible to hear your own thoughts and you felt the vibrations through your chest. This is what you knew, and certainly what you loved.

While you were in a world of your own, a pair of large and strong hands found your hips and you felt the warmth of a body behind you. You didn't open your eyes but your hands found the strangers, entwining your gloved fingers with theirs. You hummed quietly and pushed your body back into theirs, leaning your head on their shoulder while both of your bodies moved together with the music. When you opened your eyes, it was none other than Billy Hargrove himself. It didn't phase you and you continued to dance lewdly with the popular and handsome man.

You could feel the intent behind his strong grip on your body and how he held your back close to his front, your hips grinding together. You felt not even a slither of remorse for the provocative dancing you were doing, knowing exactly what he thought this would lead to.