Realistic or Modern Make Me Your Home

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Octavian Michaelson has been neighbors with Delaney Miller for a while now, and by now she understood that the Michaelsons made their arguments everyone's business by means of volume. They had absolutely no understanding of how loud they were, that or they didn't care. Octavian sees Delaney at a party after getting kicked out of the house and keeps a watchful eye on her. Not that he cares, but rather because he doesn't trust a single soul in the room and she's his neighbor. There's some sort of distant responsibility put on him. Delaney gets a glimpse of a man that's buried underneath all sorts of issues.

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"Jesus Christ Octavian, are you high again?" Jessica's shrill voice cut through the silence of the Michaelson household. It hadn't lasted long, but as soon as I had emerged from my bedroom the screeching had ensued. Moments like this made me wish I had enough money and less of a guilty conscience to allow myself to move out of the family home.

My father yelled something unintelligible as I stormed down the stairs with my mother hot on my heels.

"Are you drunk again, old man?" I sneered as I rounded a corner, walking past the sofa my father was lounging on. My father jumped off the couch as fast as he drunkenly could, which wasn't saying much. He slammed his knee on the coffee table, and I could barely contain the laugh that threatened to fill the air. Instead, I just snickered.

"Get over here, you little brat." I darted around the coffee table that stood between my father and myself, then jogged into the kitchen to snatch my car keys. One of the finer things in my life was my truck. I'd fixed it up and modified it with my own two hands and money. Not modified in the sense that there was an obnoxious muffler, but rather it ran smoother, got a bit more bass, the AC worked a hell of a lot better than it did. Good things.

"Where in the hell do you think you're going?" My mother piped in as she saw my keys flash in my hand, and I shot her a playful grin. A real shit-eating grin that said I knew where I was going and I knew she wasn't going to stop me.

"Out." I was twenty-two, I could very well go where I pleased when I pleased.

"Well-well...then don't bother coming back!" My father blubbered from the living room, audibly sighing as he sunk back into the sofa. I rolled my eyes at the normalcy of the action, at how much of a staple that sound was in the house. I can't forget the snoring, either.

I waved my father off before leaving out the front door, slamming it closed behind me. I tapped the pockets of my jeans to make sure I actually had my phone on me, then I unlocked the door to my truck before climbing in.

It was kind of ironic to me, that whenever my parents usually tried to accuse me of being high, I normally wasn't. Either they noticed when I was and didn't say or anything, or they were idiots. I never did try very hard to hide it.

At first, I had no idea where I was going, but then I'd gotten a text from one of my friends about a party. I took the next U-turn and headed in that direction, wondering what sorts of trouble I'd be getting into tonight.

It didn't take me long to get there, but parking had been a bitch. Cars were lined up and down the street leading towards the house the party was taking place at.

I was greeted as I walked up to the pathway to the front porch of the house, offering waves and fake smiles in return to the ones I was receiving. Once I got inside the house was a different story. Every cliché movie I'd seen describes parties as being wall to wall bodies with no room to move, which was partly true. It was hard to move around as freely as I'd have liked, but there were gaps here and there between groups of people.

"Has Emma gotten here yet, I've been waiting to see her all week."

"Hey, Tav. How ya doin'?"

"Go find Delaney Miller and give it to her. Don't tell her who it was from though, I ain't getting in trouble for this." I perked up at the sound of that name. It was one I knew well. I immediately started to scan faces in the crowd for that familiar head of blonde hair, trying to find her before the other person did. Normally, I'd have gone after the dude supplying said suspicious item, but I had no idea what he looked like. So it was the lesser of two evils.

"Miller, c'mon show your face." I was starting to get impatient as I maneuvered through the people. Sometimes I really hated the fact that people generally knew who I was. They all wanted to talk or something, usually when it was most inconvenient. Usually in moments where I really needed to be left alone. Moments like now.