?????? | ?????????

ㅤㅤㅤㅤIt was getting late.

The party had thinned out, the couch looking more spacious than it had an hour ago. A few stragglers mumbled excuses about curfew or parents waiting outside as they slipped through the open front door. The sounds of horror movie screams and cheap music blended together, muffled and crackling through the speakers.

Stitch stood near the stairwell, scanning the room. Their eyes caught on Sydney, who was headed toward the door, arm outstretched to close it. Before she could touch the knob, a figure appeared in the doorway—Billy.

Sydney jumped. Stitch flinched.

"Billy?" Sydney scolded, hand still pressed against her chest. "Jesus, you scared me."

Billy didn't even flinch. His eyes flicked from her to Stitch, holding their gaze for a second too long before returning to Syd. "Sorry. Thought I'd drop by. Talk."

Stu popped into view a second later, already grinning like an idiot. "Dude, what are you doing here?" he asked, eyes darting between Billy and Sydney.

Billy shrugged, casual. "I was hoping Sy and I could talk."

Stitch folded their arms, watching closely. "If Tatum sees you, she'll draw blood," they muttered. Their tone wasn't lighthearted. Billy wasn't welcome here, and they were trying to make that clear.

Stu, ever the peacemaker, chuckled and leaned in, clapping Billy on the back. "You guys can use my parents' room. Real quiet up there. No distractions. Just, y'know... talk."

Billy rolled his eyes and shoved Stu's shoulder lightly. "Subtlety, Stu. Look it up."

Sydney didn't seem fazed. She turned to Billy, her expression unreadable. "We do need to talk," she said quietly, then reached up and kissed Stitch on the forehead. It lingered for just a moment.

Stitch watched as she took Billy's hand and led him up the stairs, their fingers intertwined.

Not long after, Randy wandered by, muttering something about missed chances, but he didn't stick around. He slipped into the crowd just as quickly as he'd appeared.

Stu turned to Stitch, closing the door with a loud thud. "Well, now that the drama's dealt with—how about a challenge?"

Stitch arched a brow. "A challenge?"

He wiggled his brows. "A drinking game. We see how far we can get through the alphabet before we can't talk anymore."

Stitch cracked a reluctant smile. "That's the dumbest thing I've heard all night."

"Which means you're in," Stu said, dragging them toward the kitchen before they could argue.

The house felt quieter now, the chaos dwindling to background noise. In the kitchen, Stu pulled out the remaining liquor and started lining up shot glasses like a bartender trying to impress.

They played. For a while, it was nothing but laughter and slurred attempts to get from A to Z. Stitch lost somewhere around the letter Q, unable to remember if Q came before R, but Stu kept going strong, even as his words started mashing together.

"You okay?" he asked, watching them sway slightly.

Stitch nodded, gripping the counter. "Fine. Just dizzy."

Stu stepped closer, his hands finding their way to Stitch's waist as if on instinct. "You're not gonna remember any of this tomorrow."

"Good," they said, smiling tiredly. "Because this is getting embarrassing."