The Obscure Downsides of Fame (New Edition)

35 || drunk words, sober thoughts

"Yeah," he said. His cheeks were red from the alcohol, and his eyes were glistening like little stars. "I might've drank a bit too much," he admitted.

"Yeah, no shit," I said, lying down next to him on the carpet. I stared at the ceiling. No ceiling was as nice as the one in my bedroom, but staring up had become a comforting thing for me. What sucked was that the room felt like it was spinning. My eyes didn't know what part of plain white to focus on.

"This carpet is so soft," Nolan said, groaning as he spread out his limbs all over the space, one of his arms landing in my face.

"I think it's new," I said, feeling the fabric of the carpet between my fingers. In the meantime, Nolan didn't bother to take his hand off my face. No, actually he used it to pull me closer. He kissed me, this time a lot more sloppily than last time. His hands creeped up underneath my T-shirt, his fingers felt hot on my abdomen before I redirected them back to my face.

"Hey," he said, pulling away just slightly. My head was in the clouds and it was like the world around us had faded away. "I mean it. You're hot as fuck."

I closed my eyes, covering my eyes with my hands. I couldn't listen to this any longer.

"Does that make you shy?" he asked with a giggle as he tried to pry my fingers away from my face. "You really can't take a compliment, can you?"

"Not when it's bullshit," I said.

He sighed, and I felt him get up from beneath me. At least I thought he did, until I felt his legs around me.

"Nolan, wait—"

"Yeah?"

"I... you're really drunk. Are you okay?" I was worried about him, because it was like he knew no limits. I could tell he'd done this before, probably very often.

A silence followed. The music from downstairs was now leaking into the room, and I felt my chest rising and falling with every passing second, Nolan's weight not exactly helping me out.

"Yeah," he said. His voice sounded strange, a little lower than normal, quieter than usual, and even a little strained, reminiscent of when we first met, when I was still a stranger. "I'm okay."

The silence lasted for longer than was comfortable.

"No you're not."

Another silence followed, but Nolan made the occasional noise as though he wanted to say something. Nothing came out, though.

"You can tell me anything," I assured him.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid."

I grabbed his hands. They were shaking and they were cold. "You're not stupid at all. People overestimate themselves all the time."

"No, it's not okay," he said. His breaths were getting quicker, and I only then sensed something was off.

"I don't know what's going on," he said, forcing a smile on his face.

"I think you're having another panic attack," I said.

"Oh," he said, trying to take a deep breath, but it was shaky and inconsistent, only making him gasp for more air. "I'm a little hot."

"Take off the jacket," I told him. He nodded and started going at the button, so I helped him. "Slow down the breathing." I grabbed the jacket and threw it somewhere far away from us, and actually discarded mine too as it was indeed pretty hot here. "Close your eyes."

I moved from under him so I could sit up, so we were eye to eye, but he was still sat atop my lap, some of his weight resting on his knees.

"Let's play a game," I suggested. Maybe that would distract him enough. "Two truths and a lie. Without shots, for obvious reasons."