Awful Party by anon

You want to die. You want to fucking die, be it in your sleep or in an accident or by some crazed fucking psycho who decided you’re the prime target to get his guts sliced up and crushed into meat paste or by literally any and every means possible.
Granted, you’re being a little over dramatic about it, but the sentiment of “I want to die” pretty accurately describes how much things suck right now.
Third year of college and nothing’s changed for better or for worse. Life is just the same as ever. You used to scoff at describing things all flowery, like “shades of grey” or “colorlessly colorful scenery”.
Now, you’ve just gotten pretty okay at it yourself. Every day was just like pushing your way through invisible sludge and mud that was threatening to take you under with it and choke out the last few breaths you were willing to take before giving up.
See? You’d gotten pretty okay at it. Maybe you should’ve been an English major instead.
Still, you weren’t at the point where you were ready to give up. So dammit, you’d gotten off your ass, you’d gone to a party an acquaintance (Friend? If you were friends, you were pretty sure you’d remember his name. He seems to remember yours, though. Nice going there.) passed a casual invite to you. He seemed a little surprised you’d accepted, but better to get drunk on free booze than alone in your room again.
And it sucked. The “party” sucked. You tried to talk with people and didn’t get more than a few sentences in before more interesting company turned up, or they made some convenient excuse to leave.
Everyone here knew each other. You were a stranger in a strange room in a strange building filled with strange people.
You didn’t belong here, and you were pretty sure you never would. You wanted things to change. But, in all honesty, it was probably too late.
You tried to think up an excuse to leave, but quickly realised you didn’t even have anyone to make said excuse to. You frienquaintance was long gone, and you didn’t have a hope in hell of locating him among the crowd of furred and scaled bodies.
Just leaving would be giving up, too. You’d just be running away again, like always. Chastising yourself always made you feel like shit, sure, but no one else was gonna call you out on your crap here and now.
Maybe you just needed some fresh air. Yeah. Go up to the roof, gather your thoughts, and then come back down all refreshed and magically transform into some social butterfly McPopularDude with Friends and Aspirations and a Great Fucking Life.
Yeah right. You’ll still take the fresh air, though.
You don’t even bother trying to sneak out of the apartment and just throw the door open, trudging out, leaving behind the shitty music. No one would notice you’d gone. No one probably even noticed you were there to begin with.
Your steps are loud and frustrated as you move up several flights. No elevator. That was fine. It was all fine.
Finally, you come to the door leading to the roof, and after a struggle with the handle you eventually fling it open. The setting sun, almost dead but not quite, greets you, and your world turns orange.
Wasn’t even that late and you already wanted out. What a fucking joke.
Still, you grumble and look down at the ground as you step out into the cool evening air, and dig into your pocket. Cigarettes, check. Lighter…not check. Goddammit.
Maybe this was a good chance to try and make conversation, ask if someone had a light, maybe—
…What was the point? You’d just be a burden. A bother. A pain. Or something. Whatever. There was no point, end of.
You sigh again and look up, and that’s when you realise you aren’t alone up here.
Your eyes first focus on the outstretched hand, covered in light grey-brown fur with dark chocolate stripes, clasped onto a blunt. The smoke from it wisps up and fades into the air, and you can smell the joint from here.
You follow the hand to meet the short sleeves of an alpha shirt, a bright magenta covered with blue flowers. Or at least, you think they’re flowers. They’re stylised to an extent, so maybe they’re meant to be some fucked up marine life you’ve never heard of, or like plankton under a microscope or something.
While you can’t clearly make out the body, since you’re looking at the back, you can at least tell he’s built. Not overly muscular, a little on the chubby side. Stocky’s a good word for it. Your eyes travel up and down, noting the old black denim jeans with a single wallet chain hooked on the belt loop, the lack of an actual belt, some beat up looking sneakers, and an obnoxiously bright green beanie affixed on top of a messy hairdo of dark brown fur. Kind of like a mohawk, but not really.
It’s also then when you realise he isn’t just standing there, but is actively trying to climb over the handrail. One foot’s already planted firmly on it, and he’s lazily trying to pull the rest of his body up.
He’s probably going to fall. Or jump. At this height, about six stories high, that won’t just leave a little bruise.
Before you know it, your feet start moving on their own, and your mouth follows suit.
”Wait!” You can’t think of anything better to say, and the figure stops climbing to instead face you, turning around.
He’s wearing some weird t-shirt, “VHS E-180 TDK” is what you can make out of the text over the three blocks of colour under them. His stomach bulges out a little behind it — definitely on the chubbier side, but still fairly well built.
Your eyes trail up to his face, and amber eyes surrounded by a faint pink meet your own. His face seems to melt into a lazy grin, and he takes a puff of his blunt. You note the hazard symbol on his beanie before he speaks, the silver cuffs in his ears glistening under the sun’s dying rays.
”Well, what am I waitin’ for, exactly?” His tone is amused, and his eyes seem to be laughing at you. You just stand there for a few seconds, at a lost for words.
He’s cute. He’s a really cute yeen, you think.
Finally, you manage to speak. “Uh…You we’re about to, like…”
He looks at you, confused, before realisation hits him. His eyes light up, and he begins cackling like a madman, a hand coming over his forehead and clasping it. “Jump? Seriously? God, fuck, you really thought so, huh? Hahaha! Man, I wish I’d seen the look on your face!”
Before you can stop him, he immediately pushes himself back up on the handrail and stands on it, arms outstretched as he looks down on you.
You’re dumbfounded. He takes that opportunity to laugh at you, pointing with one eye shut. “Fuck, you need a mirror right now! You fuckin’ dweeb, look at your faaaaAAAAAAAA—“
The idiot loses his balance and begins to stumble. Once again, your body moves without thinking, and you rush forward and grab his hand. You pull back with all your might, and he falls on top of you. You’re crushed into the roof as both of you let out your own personal variations of “Oof”, his followed by a “Shit”.
You have a really fucking heavy hyena on top of you, you realise, and you’re almost a little disappointed when he gets off of you and sits on the floor, looking at his hand.
”Fuck, dropped my goddamn happy stick!”
That’s his primary concern? You give him a look, and he averts your gaze.
”Jesus, yeah, I know. Fuck. Sorry. Got a little…ahead of myself, there. Still shoulda…shoulda…”
He starts laughing again, and bangs the floor next to him as you stay lying on the ground.
”Sorry, you just make some real fuckin’ funny faces, dude!”
You mutter that you’re glad at least someone’s feeling cheery, and his ears drop slightly.
After a few more seconds of silence, he pats the space next to him. “You just gonna lie there forever or what? If that don’t make it clear, I’m inviting you to get your ass up, by the way. You look dead there.”
You we’re getting used to lying on your back, but soon push yourself up and scoot over to hm as he digs out his phone.
”Look, you did TECHNICALLY save my life or whatever. And I ain’t smokin’ anymore, so now I’m just hungry. If I get you some grub with my order, uh, promise you won’t tell anyone?”
You raise an eyebrow. That’s definitely not suspicious, you tell him, and probe him for a little more detail.
”Not the first time someone thought I was gonna jump. I just like lookin’ at the sky sometimes, but people are the ones who do the real jumpin’. To conclusions! Damn, I shoulda been an English major!” He slaps his knee and barks a short laugh at that.
”Buuuuuut…Yeah. Pretty much, there’ve been complaints. And I don’t wanna make things harder for Ricky — my roommate — or anything by getting us kicked out or whatever. These digs are kinda shit, but they’re cheap. Anyway, you feel like burgers?”
Your brain searches through its databases, and you realise Ricky is probably the guy whose apartment you were just in for that “party” that hadn’t gone beyond a bunch of people you don’t know standing around and talking about whatever.
You also nod your head and say yeah, as long as yours doesn’t have pickles.
He grins at that, before slamming in an order with practically inhuman speed. “So, you’re here for that “party”—“ He makes air quotes with his fingers. “—I take it?”
You nod, and offhandedly mention you were considering leaving. He crosses his arms and nods back at you sagely. “Hm! Yeah, it’s pretty shit. Ricky doesn’t like the smella weed, so you can’t even have a bong out durin’’em. Music taste ain’t all that great, but also the folks he invites are usually on the more borin’ side.”
He then looks you over. “Uh, no offence by the way, humie. Then again, you were gonna ship out, so you’re probably the outlier here.”
You’re a plus one, you tell him, and his face lights up.
”Oh, so you DO still have the potential to be cool and not all borin’ and shit! Sweet!” He fist pumps the air.
”Anyway, burgers’ll be like twenty. So…Your name is, uh…”
Anon, you tell him. “Anon…Anon…” He seems to be feeling your name out, before shrugging and giving up. “Nah, can’t put together a nickname I like that easy. Sure it’ll hit me later — anyway, name’s Sid. Just Sid. Not Sidney. We got that? Cool.” He raises a fist in the air, and you stare at it in confusion for a second before you realise you’re meant to bump it, which you do promptly.
The two of you sit there in silence after that, but it isn’t necessarily awkward. You mention you have cigs if he has a light, but he shrugs. “Eh, I only try to stick with Mary Jane, but ‘ppreciate the offer. Light’s in my room, anyhow.”
You look him over as you begin to talk about whatever comes to mind. Mostly just talking about how shit the party is, and Sid making fun of every guest you happen to mention.
Before you realise it, you’re actually talking to someone, and it’s actually developed into a conversation, and you’re getting shit off your chest.
It feels good, you think, as Sid raises an eye at you. “Y’know, Anon, you seem pretty cool. After we get those burgers, how ‘bout we blow this joint like you were gonna anyway? I actually had some plans tonight for my own gig, and I’m sure you can come with. Nothing big or anything, just some booze and a bonfire over in the woods. Some jackass will prolly have a guitar or somethin’. Sure, don’t sound that different from here, but I know the people are actually people and not just borderline zombies. It’s pretty good for seein’ the stars, too, out there. Got a real good spot, and you can ride with me. I’m guessin’ you’re in student dorms, so I can take ya back too. You in?”
You answer with an immediate yes as you unconsciously scoot closer to him. He grins at your answer, and gives you a thumbs up. “Nice! Knew ya wouldn’t let me down! We can eat in the car if that’s cool with you ‘n all, I wanna get out before Ricky finds me and starts naggin’ my ass.”
You’re a little surprised at how fast you answered, but ultimately, this is the one of a kind miracle you’d be hoping for.
You just pray this is legit and isn’t gonna lead to you being chopped up into tiny little bits and kept in someone’s basement freezer.