𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 , 𝟖𝟎𝐬

17 = where is my mind

brandy's point of view

blowing out candles on a cake and celebrating my seventeenth birthday in a decade that i wasn't even alive yet for is a trippy thought.

am i in a coma? am i dead? is celebrating my birthday 30 years in the past the only way i'll ever be able to?

the alcohol i consumed approximately thirty minutes ago had made my stomach warm and my eyes heavy. moral of the story, alcohol and an existential crisis do not mix well together.

i couldn't tell what was real anymore and at this point i didn't even care to find out.

i clumsily walked over to jason who was standing against a wall and talking to some girl. i stopped right in front of them both, waiting for him to notice me. it didn't take him long.

he awkwardly excused himself from the redhead and turned to me, placing his hand on the small of my back to lead us away.

"having a good time?" he asked.

"take me home." i looked into his eyes.

his expression changed from happy to confused.

"or your place, i don't really care."

"why, brandy, what's wrong?"

i swallowed hard, i felt my throat tightening as if i was about to start crying.

"i don't know any of these people." i slurred my words and clung on to his chest.

jason quickly placed the drink he was holding down and attached his hands to my waist in order to steady me.

"you're drunk." he stated and looked down at me.

"do you blame me?" i scoffed, "i can't feel anything. i wanna feel something, something real. please, help me feel something."

"okay, okay, we can go to my place." he nodded, "i'll take you to my place."

i walked with jason out of the club, tears stinging at my eyes but i barely noticed them anyway.

=

by the time we made it to jason's apartment, it had started to thunderstorm. we ran in to the building, barely making it in without getting drenched.

in the span of the elevator ride up to his floor, i started to feel the alcohol even more. my head also felt like a huge balloon from crying and the stress i've been under. i guess this is what you get for drinking half of an entire bowl of spiked punch with vodka.

jason walked me into his apartment. it was cute inside, artsy and actually very clean and organized for a guy who lives alone.

thunder was clapping outside and lighting would strike every so often outside of the floor to ceiling windows.

i just stood there by the door as he grabbed me a blanket and draped it over my shoulders. he bent down to look me in the eyes, but i was zoned out past his body.

"brandy." he said softly.

i quickly looked at him, but the booze made me feel as if i was more so looking through him.

"how much did you drink?" his arms were still resting on my shoulders.

"a lot." i mumbled.

he gave me a sad look and then walked me into his bedroom. i took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"do you feel better here?" he asked as he knelt down on the floor in front of me.

i nodded, "i'm sorry ... i just- i didn't feel right there. and you were the first person i thought i could go to."

"you can always come to me." he gave me a small smile, "and don't be sorry."

i stayed quiet, just thinking everything over in my head.

"nothing's real." i abruptly said.

"what do you mean?"

"all of this. everything, every day, none of its real. it can't be." tears started to form at my eyes again, "i can't feel anything. it's like i'm numb and in a dream and everything i do, none of it will matter the next day because none .. of .. its .. real."

"i'm real." he said.

i shook my head, the tears quickly streaming down my face and my chest hurt, "no you're not."

it hurt to say it.

he cupped my face, and stood up a little bit, "yes i am, brandy. you can feel me touching your face right now, i'm real."

"i'm not even sure that i'm real! if only you knew the shit that's really going on, maybe you'd understand, but no one does!" my voice was raising and i felt the familiar feeling of anxiety creeping up on me again.

"what shit? what's been going on?" he was yelling back at me.

"i can't tell you! i can't tell you, i can't tell you-"

his lips crashed against mine, cutting off the rest of my panic attack to escape from my mouth.

it was a slow kiss as i tried to steady my breathing and stop crying. it worked a little bit.

he pulled away and looked me in the eyes, "i'm real, brandy." his hand slowly pushed the blanket off from my shoulders.

jason's point of view

i looked at brandy as she sat on the bed. her light brown eyes surrounded by smudged mascara and her cheeks were wet from her tears.

she really looked beautiful in that moment even though i knew she was breaking inside.

i just wanted to do everything i could to make her feel better again. i wanted to hold her so tight until every broken piece of her formed back together.

she pulled me towards her and kissed me passionately. i didn't fight it at all as her hands fumbled with the collar of my button up.

i unbuttoned it for her while still keeping the kiss going.

she pulled my sleeves down my hands and tossed my shirt on the floor.
i picked her up and slammed her back against the wall.

"this is probably a bad idea." i mumbled in between kisses.

"you're drunk. and- underage. this is everything the press thought we were doing-"

"i said i wanted you to make me feel something." she pulled away completely and looked me deep in the eyes.

"please." she whispered, tears still forming in her eyes.

i bit down on my lip, pushing every thought of how this was a bad idea out of my head, and then i continued to kiss her.

__

thank you for 1k !!

sorry for not uploading recently :((
but i'm gonna be writing more bc the inspiration has s t r u c k again !