Four Corners and Two Sides

Sunset reached it's peak around 8:30, causing a spew of watercolors to drift over the sky. I admired the view from a poor excuse for a nearby hill. It barely lifted from the ground, but at least it overlooked something. Something worth looking at.
I hugged my knees to my chest as heavy, bright lights flooded the venue, lighting up what was just a dim gathering for people. It could almost pass as a replica for daytime, but not quite as half of Kellin's face was just a black cover. He walked over to me slowly, holding two red cups.
"Starting early, hm?" I chuckled at him as he struggled to sit down next to me, trying to not spill any of the alcohol.
"It's not a lot. The cups aren't filled more than halfway. See?" He brought one of them down to my level so I could look.
"I'm surprised... then again, I haven't seen you boys get your drink on yet," I teased.
Kellin took a sip and made a face. "This is... kinda awful. And nope, not me anyway. I'm not a big drinker."
"But you were keen on helping me pick out pink wine at Walmart!"
"Well yeah," Kellin rolled his eyes and set down the cups in front of us. "It was pink! I wanted to try pink wine, not down the whole bottle, silly."
I smiled when he called me silly, and then felt guilty for assuming he was heavy into alcohol. That elementary school saying was true. Never judge a book by it's cover. Or what their career was. I supposed I assumed because he was, after all, in a band.
"I'm sorry I judged you like that." It had been quiet for some time, and I took a peek over at Kellin while I rested my head on my knees. He didn't say anything, but stared out ahead at the nothingness of the night. Creatures lurking and sneaking around through the trees. As the emptiness surrounded us, there were things in the woods that moved on with their life. I felt as though Kellin treated the alcohol as a hard issue to speak about. He didn't accept my apology, or maybe he felt like he didn't need to. Which was fine, because whether or not he accepted, I was genuinely sorry. I decided on taking zero sips from the beer.
"You know what?" He spoke suddenly, lighting us up once again. I kept my eyes on him, waiting. "I've always wanted to get shitfaced."
I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud as I turned away from him. Yup, never ever judge a book by it's cover.
"Shitfaced? Why not just buzzed?"
"Because, dearest Eliza," Kellin hopped up from the grass and wiped the green off of his pants. "I'm 26, and I've never let it get that bad."
He offered his hand to me which I gladly held with my own. He pulled me up with little to no effort.
"Then tonight, Kellin, all of us will be drunker than a skunk, just for you."
"That doesn't make any sense," he snorted and rubbed my arm with his free hand, then knelt down to kiss my forehead. I blushed and silently thanked the low light for hiding the red of my cheeks. "But you can always show me."
My heart sped up, and I was sure he could hear pounding of the muscle in my chest cavity. Kellin pulled me into his body, and held me tightly. Within those few seconds, I could already feel sweat building upon my skin. It was one of those moments that I lived for. He smelled so nice, too. As if he got tangled in vines of old cinnamon. I breathed him in as quietly as I could, trying to imprint all of this into my memory.
And then, so soft, I almost couldn't hear him, he said,"I'm sorry."
We headed back to our buses without any spoken words between us, leaving me with a mind full of wonder.

"I can't feel my legs!"
"Bro, you still have legs."
"They're gone! All gone. No, I need my legs," I walked into the bus to that. Mitchell curled into the fetal position, clearly hugging his legs, rocking back and forth like a baby. The worst part? He was literally sobbing.
"Oh my god!" I yelled, and dropped to my knees, trying to soothe Mitchell. "What is happening right now?"
"Well," Eric began. "He thinks he doesn't have legs?"
"Is that alcohol or drugs talking?"
"Alcohol, Eliza. Jesus Christ, we wouldn't drug our band mate. He just had too much vodka."
Sanders walked into the living room area from the bunks, dressed in a sombrero hat and luau. In his hand was a shot glass full of green liquid. They were really taking this party to the next level, and it wasn't even 9 o'clock yet.
"You guys need to take it slow," I stood up. "Absinthe? Sanders, I wish you good luck. You're going to be out before midnight."
"I'll be fine," he slurred. "Mitchell had Devil's Springs. Sucker."
I clicked my tongue and turned to Eric, frustrated. "Couldn't you wait until we were all doing this together or something?"
"Why wait?" He quickly shot up from the couch and got in my face. "I sure as hell wasn't going to wait for you to be done with your little boyfriend."
As angry as I was for Eric choosing now to be an appropriate time to confess his feelings, Kellin was little compared to Eric. Practically every member in The Story of How was around 6 feet. Except for me, of course. But height hardly mattered at this point. I had never seen Eric get so aggressively angry, especially toward me, and I was in no mood for it.
"Number one, he's not actually my boyfriend. Number two, what the fuck is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," Eric crossed his arms over his chest, staring straight into my soul.
"Are you serious? You picked the best time to be a stubborn asshole."
He shrugged, then kept his frame strong and defiant. It was unbelievable. He didn't have a problem, my ass. Waiting from mom about news of Koda was already picking apart my night, and then Eric had decided to choose the party, of all nights, to turn into the jolly, green giant. Replace jolly with jealousy, and you'd have Eric Bastraw.
I knew exactly what was going on with him, but I wanted him to admit it to my face. But of course he chose to cower and pretend like there was nothing wrong with him. There was never anything wrong with Eric, oh no. He was perfect, and smooth, and had all the right answers. He'd like to think that.
"I'm not looking for a fight. I'm going to look for a drink, and forget about you for a night," I snapped and stalked off of the bus, convincing myself that Mitchell would be fine on his own as the drunkest man at Van's Warped Tour.

Two hours later, I was half naked on top of Kellin Quinn, brushing my hands through his black hair, swallowing the taste of cherry vodka down my throat. I wasn't wasted, but I knew it was going to be rough in the morning.
I lost my phone over an hour ago, but I hardly cared for that now as his hands worked over my hips, pressing down on those wonderful, sensitive hipbones. I shuddered over him.
"God, I love that," he whispered and bit his lip, lust glazing his eyes. My tshirt was discarded a long time ago as we fooled around on his bunk bed. I dug my nails into his shoulders, causing the pressure of his fingers on my hips to increase. A dragged out moan escaped from my mouth, and I covered it with my hand.
"Oops," I giggled and fell off of Kellin's lap to the side of him. "Do you think somebody heard me?"
"I hope so," he winked. I gave him a good look over, while he did the same. His hair sprouted up all over his head. Heavy breath and heated cheeks. Was he actually horny for me? I felt a pulse in my lower region, and noticed how ridiculously eager I was for Kellin. Left in boxers and that black tshirt from earlier, he looked good enough to eat.
"Are you... drunk?" He asked me, but I wasn't sure how to answer. I was rationally thinking, but it was hard to do. I could still do it, but my brain felt gooey and fuzzy all at the same time.
"I'm not sure," I shrugged and played with a strand of my hair. "Why?"
Kellin grabbed the strand from me and curled it between his fingers. "I don't want to take advantage of you."
"Oh, you're not."
He laughed, short and sweet. "I can't tell if that's booze talking or you."
"It's me, silly Kellin. It's always me."
"Eliza, I want to do things with you."
"Things?" I tilted my head as his hand started trailing up my bare leg.
"Yes, but I want your permission."
I stared at him with my bloodshot eyes, and laughed so hard, I was clutching my stomach. He sat up and waited for me, watching me roll around on his bed like an oversized ball.
When I was able to calm down enough, I said, "are you asking permission to do naughty things with me?"
I had thought about this for the weeks I had known him. I wasn't a virgin, but was I ready to do it with him? He didn't consider me his girlfriend, so I didn't want him to screw me, and then screw me over. But how could I be sure what I wanted when I felt a buzzing in my head? I was well educated on the fact that sleeping with someone could have a negative effect on emotional health. Been there, done that, and wasn't excited to do it all over again if I had to. But I wanted Kellin, and my body was more than willing to give myself to him. Especially with alcohol coursing through my shell.
He moved down near my feet and slowly began working his way back up. He tenderly kissed my legs, locking eyes with me, and I nearly lost lung ability. Those deep, blue irises struck something inside of me, and I licked my lips. My stomach twisted with anticipation as his mouth sucked on my right hipbone, sending me into overdrive.
"Oh god," I moaned, tilting my head back and thrusting my hips forward. He took both of his hands and pushed me down, continuing the assault on my skin with his mouth. My private parts flooded with a feeling I had missed for so long, and I looked back at Kellin, out of breath. He was no longer sucking on my skin, but inches away from my face.
"I want you," he swallowed.
"I want you," I said back, just as rough, just as aroused as him.
He hovered over me, and moved his hand into the waistband of my underwear. I felt so innocent and sexy. He wanted me for his own. Kellin Quinn's hand was near my home run, and he looked like he was nowhere near stopping. His fingers inched their way down, at which point, his mouth moved to my neck, nipping here and there. The tips tickled me, but I hardly felt like laughing at this point. I was anxious, grabbing onto his arm and guiding him in quicker.
And then suddenly, he was there. His finger hovering over the opening, then gently and lightly as he could possibly be, he slid the tip of his pointer over me.
A strangled noise came out from my throat, and my body temperature rose.
"So wet," he groaned, and dropped his head to my chest, feeling me again, creating more noises to leave my mouth.
But I heard something outside of the bunks. Rustling of bags, footsteps. I sat up alert, slapping Kellin's arm that was inside of my underwear, and I began grabbing my clothes. While shoving them on my body as fast as I could, Kellin stayed motionless on the bed, now sitting up with eyes closed.
"Get dressed," I whispered furiously to him. My head pounded, thanks to sudden movement.
"Why?" He whined, obviously now feeling the alcohol in his system. It was a good thing we got as far as we did, and not any farther. I bit the inside of my cheek, realizing having sex was not what I wanted right now. I would've regretted it in the morning, and I was certain Kellin wasn't going to remember much of anything anyway, not after the long night ahead of him. There was a lot more alcohol outside, everywhere, in everybody's buses. And there were more people on this bus than just he and I.
"Where are you guys?" I heard Jack Fowler's muffled voice out in the living area, and I was trying to find Kellin's pants.
"Where are they?" I asked, looking frantically for them all around, but I couldn't remember where he took them off. I was fully dressed by this point, while my best friend followed me around the room with his heavy eyes. The room block ripped open, and I turned like a deer in the headlights.
"Looking for these?" Eric leaned against the side of the doorway, holding up a blue pair of skinny jeans.