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Coming back inside had been a mistake. He’d lost track of his date quickly in the whirling lights and dancers, and had ended up looking lost around the drinks table. His only constant companion was the cup of punch in his hand as people dropped in for a drink and a quick chat before dipping out again to rejoin the dancing. He felt almost in a dream, sidelined in what was supposed to be one of the biggest parties of their senior year (He’d missed Diablo’s big bash a month earlier). Normally he would be right in with the rest of them, dancing and drinking but tonight it was the last thing he felt like doing.

Through heavy eyelids he watched the events of the night- Sonny and Salem’s rather one-sided excuse for a fight; Kavi getting caught out on his double-timing; Chanel and Lucas’ confrontation. He even saw and heard the less public moments of romance, although it seemed that only the gays had been getting any action that night. Declan had smiled at the sight of Kavan and Archer’s little moment, and the smile grew when he saw Oliver Grayson kissing Stella. He’d have to follow up with the boy on that one- his gaydar had pinged on meeting him and he’d given Declan no reason to disbelieve it over the years.

Yet as he watched the night’s events, the wallflower felt no motivation to move. With one eye on the large wall clock on the opposite end of the hall and his mind imagining the scene of his graduation, the time passed very slowly. As the hour hand ticked closer to twelve the punch bowl suddenly grew more inviting. The dance was still chugging along but the crowd had slightly thinned, leaving the drinks table rather empty. Perhaps a little more liquor would keep him sane for the rest of the night.

The punch burned his throat as he drained the cup and he coughed. What the hell at Chanel put in this stuff? Yet he kept drinking, almost on automatic he saw his hand go out for the ladle for a refill, over and over and over… how did the level keep going down in his cup? It must have a hole in the bottom or something. Maybe more punch would clear his mind. He was feeling slightly dazed and with a moment of clarity realised just how drunk he was. 

The only feeling that overpowered his drunkenness was a sudden burn in his stomach, and he lurched to his feet as he felt the acid rise in his throat. His head swum with the sudden movement and he almost fell, rescuing himself by balancing a hand gingerly on the table. Declan stumbled across the hall to the glowing toilets sign and pushed through the swing door of one of the cubicles, dropping to his knees as he dry heaved. His head was banging like a drum, and he thought back with regret at all those cups of punch. 

His vision blurred over, before blacking out entirely as he slumped mercifully into sleep.

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A painful rapping sound woke Declan from his slumber. He raised his head painfully from where it had lay balanced on the toilet seat and looked back with bleary eyes. A guffawing cleaner stood at the entrance of the bathrooms knocking the end of his broom against the door.

[b]“Feeling alright there, son?”[/b] he asked with a twinkle of laughter in his eye. Declan merely moaned and struggled to lift his head over streaks of vomit. The pressure mounted behind his eyes and ballooned into a headache as he strained to stand, before rushing over to the sink. He splashed refreshingly cold water on his face before tilting his head down to gulp from the stream of water.

Declan left the cleaner in the bathroom and stumbled through the main hall. The party last night had left it in an absolute state and a small army of janitors worked to restore it’s previous pristine condition. He snorted as he spotted one down on his hands and knees scrubbing at a trail of blood, remembering Ariel’s sweet jab to Kavi’s nose last night. He passed the punch bowl on his way to the exit and drew closer, but the fruity smell that had enticed him hours ago now only turned his stomach.

The sunlight outside stabbed at Declan’s eyes and he scrabbled at his pockets for his sunglasses. It seemed that he had left them somewhere inside, but at the moment turning around to look for them was the last thing he wanted to do. He instead fished his phone out, noting just one missed call from Max as he powered it on. Instagram was full of pictures of Homecoming and he managed a cracked grin as he recognized a blurry version of himself in the background of some of the more popular kids photos. 

His tortuous journey across the bright carpark ended as he flung himself into the front seat of his car, lowered the visor to block out some sun rays and breathed a sigh of relief. The Homecoming nightmare was over, but now what?