The party’s taking place at some other cramped up apartment, and there’s literally about four people every square meter, which is clearly too much for me to handle. The air is hot, music’s too loud and a strong alcohol breeze hits me as Nick’s friend, Adrien, opens the door to greet us.

"Hey Nick!" he says. "I see you brought a date!"

I’m already uneasy, did he have to add more to it? Of course, Adrien would say something like that though. He winks, and Nick makes his way in, shoving his friend aside in annoyance. Adrien, looking falsely offended, then directs his attention to me:

"Come on in! Don’t be shy! Ollie, was it?"

I nod in agreement, swallowed whole by the heavy atmosphere as I pass the door. I shouldn’t have come. I really shouldn’t have. A sweet drink’s been shoved into my hand, and some kid already spilled alcohol on my white shirt. The place reeks, and now I do too. Nick seems to be having fun though, already flirting obviously with some blue haired girl. I feel my hatred for the unknown girl explode, then I realize how unjustified it is. I don’t even know her name.

After about half an hour, I decide to leave. I can’t take it anymore. My head hurts, and I shouldn’t have drank that sweet thing I’ve been given. I try and make my way to Nick so that he doesn’t search for me, but the crowd only pushes me back. I’ve almost reached my goal, but I suddenly stop as I see him. I drop my drink, letting the others roll me in a wave toward the wall. I’m washed out at the shore, my mind stuck to a frozen image of Nick kissing the girl I saw him with earlier. I would have been better crying home than here.

I can’t move and I can’t leave, my back glued to some wall as I try to distance myself from the sweaty crowd. I stare into the void until a voice get me out of my thoughts:

"Hey there pretty one! You all right?"

I blink a few time, catching up with reality.

"Before we speak, yes I’m gay. if you want to run do it now I’ll understand I’m used to it."

Why is this guy even speaking to me? I turn my head toward him like his face holds the answer to my unspoken question.

"I’m Maxime by the way, but everyone calls me Max. You can also call me Sweetie if you prefer, but I doubt that. You see, that’s how my ex used to call me. She was crazy. And yes, a girl, but I had to have some experience before I knew I really was gay, you know?"

No, I don’t as I always knew for myself, but I still listen to his drunk blabbing as it distracts me from whatever the hell I’m feeling right now. He then goes on about said girlfriend, sometimes losing track of his own words, giggling like crazy. He then excuses himself to go cry in the bathroom for a reason I couldn’t grasp, just after he takes my cell phone from my hands to put his number in and text himself. The guy didn’t even ask for my name, but he at least kind of restored my smile.

I text Nick about going home, and I welcomingly embrace the cold Winter air as I get outside. I’m lost in thoughts and confused, but somehow… better. I don’t have to hope for some kind of development with Nick anymore, and I finally know how terrible parties are. At least I maybe made a friend, even though I’m sure he won’t even remember me tomorrow considering his present state. I look at Max’s number in my phone, remembering his curly mess of hair. He looked like a little drunk angel, and maybe, to me, that’s what he had been in there. Saving me from a public breakdown and making the party a tiny bit more bearable…