This was wrong, everything was wrong, no time to recover before Isaac decided to follow his impressive example and oh god there was vomit in his hair, that motherfucker-
Jae could have smacked him, but then Isaac was gone and he needed to be away from here, more than he'd ever needed anything. He staggered away from the mess they'd both left, back door, outside, fresh air, denial, freedom. He doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath as his head spun.
He stumbled around the side of the house, feeling along the wall until he found the faucet that a garden hose would be connected to, and he dropped to his knees in the grass to wash the vomit out of his hair. Son of a bitch.
He didn't know how things had gone so wrong so quickly. His head was still swimming and he couldn't concentrate. He didn't want to concentrate, not really, not on this.
This... there was no this.
Tonight didn't happen. He didn't see Isaac, didn't talk to him, didn't do anything. Isaac Brea wasn't worth his fucking time. Not tonight, not ever.
Jae dragged himself back up, clinging to the wall of the house for support. He left the faucet running, uncaring. Not his water bill.
Go back in, grab his jacket, go home, sleep for ten years, forget all of this forever. Solid plan. In practice, he got as far as retrieving his jacket and making it to the front porch before he had to heave into the bushes and the resulting dizziness forced him to sit down and put his head between his knees. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, drawing in deep, shaking breaths until he could sit up without the world spinning. The noise of the party inside sounded far away again, but now instead of being fuzzy and muddled, everything was too far and he couldn't ground himself.
He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, cursing as he scrolled through his contacts with shaking hands. The tone was loud enough to make him wince when he pressed it to his ear. Listening to the other line ring felt like waiting for a firing squad to roll up, but there was no way he was making it home on his own two feet tonight. Speaking of grounding himself...
"Dad?" His voice came out in a croak and he cleared his throat with some difficulty. Fuck, he needed a glass of water. "Dad, I'm sick. Can you come pick me up?"
There was no denying the state he was in or the consequences he was going to have to deal with tomorrow for doing this. But everything else...
Everything else could be just a bad dream blurred by bad decisions.