THE TRASH PARTY!

"Man, there needs to be some more dancing happening right now!" Kyle lost his leather jacket somewhere along, hmm, three hours ago? Yeah, three hours ago sounds right, somebody probably stole it by now and he liked to think it was somebody hot at least. He jumped down from the living room balcony, hanging off the edge watching for a while. 

He always liked a little chaos. Organized, sure, but it was fun just watching people be stupid without consequences; Kyle tried picking out where he had known any of them. There was a girl with red hair he saw at the beach once, surprised she came at all -- there was Pietro, of course, Kyle had saw him come up early and go to the second floor bathroom and never come out. Probably planting drugs behind one of the wall tiles, but hey, he's got two bathrooms for a reason! 

There was a little bit of a struggling trying to stand after jumping, mostly the drinks going to his head -- all that liquor up stairs will make anybody top heavy, y'know? Stumbling through the ones dancing, "oh hey, haha-HA,

Oh you have my jacket! Nah, nah keep it," it looks good on him! He wasn't in a rush to get anything back, steal whatever, break whatever; fuck whoever, meh. A new house is like a fresh pair of leather boots, you get blisters just sitting around in them looking cute. No, you gotta go out and find your own way through life, in the boots! Yeah, in the leather boots, don't let anybody tell you not to break in those leather boots. 

Anyways, welcome committee time. 

The door had stayed open for the last few hours, anybody could come in except for the peacekeepers man, fuck those guys. This wasn't his party, it was everybody's party! Except for adults, they'd probably try and drink all the beer themselves, fuckin' dicks. He pressed his hand on the doorway trying to keep himself up and shot a grin at the guy on the porch, "what," hand on his hip, "I ain't even that drunk, man, come on," he nearly fell on the inch ledge drop to the porch. 

He made him way over to the wet grass, standing on the front lawn next to decorative plastic flamingos and soggy paper towels, breathing in the fresh air as if it'd sober him up in any way. As if he were dehydrated and it was the only thing keeping him going, "AYE, is that fuckin' NIKOLAS!?" Shouting over the street, he knew that fuckin' dude anywhere; Nikolas minding his own business and not minding Kyle's business, and he almost took it personally. Offensive, even. 

An attack on his character even, how sick. 

"C'mon over, bro, it's a trash party!"

"Yup," he sighed to himself, exhaling utter contempt with his place in the world. "Life is beautiful," the freedom of his house exploding around him and listening as everybody did their own thing. Tangy yelled at him while he yelled at Klaus, and he didn't care enough to hear a word she said and Nikolas didn't care enough to hear a word he said, and that's beautiful! That give and take, the fact that they have the choice to not care to begin with. 

Kyle swayed slowly on his toes, hands in his pockets as he watched Nikolas walk away. He must have other plans, that's okay -- they'll be here all night! Life don't stop, love don't stop- that's right friends, nothing but love and care here. Good vibes, Kyle bounced on his toes, head bouncing in rhythm to Tangy's sloppy, juicy amp'd chords. 

Rock on, you know? 

The first few words out Mary's mouth didn't catch his attention, Kyle had spent the last hour drunk in his own world, high off the admiration of life and also drugs. Mary looked beautiful tonight, and he grinned with heavy lids hanging over his eyes, "haha whaaat, this isn't a birthday party!"

"You're TRASH, Kyle!"

Oh- he flinched before he knew why, and the force of an entire cake hitting him caught him off guard. Grimacing, icing dripped from his noes and the cake's mass slide down the chest of his undershirt; thank god somebody stole his jacket, that thing would have been ruined. For a second he just stood there, "what the fuck," phased but unoffended. He couldn't take it personally, knowing his own character he knew he probably did something to this girl. 

Whatever it was, he couldn't imagine though. It's a lot of effort to cake a guy at his own trash party, and a part of him is impressed until he feels somebody swipe a finger on his face. Kyle brushes the icing out of eyes just to see Marshal Slate on his tippy toes, tasting face cake. 

His face cake, of course. The face cake for Kyle, Kyle's face cake. 

Marshal continued his strut into the building, two of his friends watching him until they rounded the corner. Mi casa es su casa and all that, but he just watched in his own daze as they continued on. What the hell is going on, bro, he loved the chaos. Every bit of it, pulling the shirt to his mouth and walking back into the house after them. 

All things considered, this seemed to be going pretty well. Just pretty well- which isn't good enough when it comes to throwing the thrasher of the year. He bit his lip on this, whipping the rest of the cake onto the back of his shirt and throwing it into the living room on top of people. What to do, what to do, what takes this and makes it the party of all time- or hell, even the party of the century! He saw Pietro in the corner, which was good, and he saw Tangy in the other corner with a pretty girl, which is good on both accounts. 

And then he looks back at Pietro, and it's almost like telepathy, Pietro's just in his head talking all about getting cross faded and Kyle's already half way there before he runs off to the kitchen, squeezing past Tia and Julian. Kyle grabs the green shot tray, clunky in his approach and one glass shatters as it hits the ground, which is good! 

Realistically, every good party has to have some broken glass somewhere. 

It's part of the thrill! 

"AYY-" he yells at the guests as they pile in, now with a pair of shades over his eyes. Where'd the glasses come from? Who knows! 

"I want everybody taking shots, pronto!" Kyle cheering with icing in his eyebrow, "c'mon, it's doctor's orders!"