Bachelors Party
POV: First Person (Silas)
I woke up before everyone.
Not sure why. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe my body just didn't know how to rest anymore.
The apartment was still, filled with the soft hum of appliances and the occasional creak of old wood. I stepped lightly across the hallway, peeking into the living room. My mom was curled up under a blanket on the couch. Michelle was sprawled on the floor, her hand still gripping a pillow. Brian sat in the armchair like a soldier guarding the room, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, snoring.
Everyone was safe. Everyone was breathing.
No idea why any of them would be sleeping in the living, but hey to each his own right.
That was enough for now.
I slipped away, grabbed a towel, and hit the floor.
First: push-ups. Ten sets of one hundred. Smooth, controlled, even breathing. Then sit-ups. Then squats. Then mountain climbers. I lost track of time around the 5,000 marks.
When you've got enhanced strength, stamina, and flexibility, you don't just train—you maintain. You stop; your body doesn't just slack; it fights back. Discipline is survival.
After the final set, I stood slowly, rolled out my shoulders, and headed to the bathroom. Steam filled the air minutes later.
When I stepped out again, towel around my waist, the place was alive.
News on the TV. Michelle groaning about a headache. Brian and my mom talking softly by the window.
I caught the tail end of the broadcast.
"—Sentinel, the mysterious vigilante believed to have originated from Detroit, was last seen rescuing civilians during the Empire State attack—"
Click.
I turned the TV off.
"We get it," I muttered. "The cities still confused."
"You okay, Silas?" Brian asked.
I nodded. "Fine."
My mom looked over. "I've been thinking… Maybe you should go back. Detroit's safer. Well relatively speaking anyway and your dad —"
"Ma, I'm not going anywhere," I said flatly.
Her eyes tightened. "This place almost took you from me."
"I'm not afraid of some creepy-faced weirdo throwing bombs," I said, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter. "I'm staying. That's final."
She started to argue again, but Michelle cut in.
"Let it be, aunty. We're all shaken. Give him a second."
Brian raised a hand. "Alright, alright. On a lighter note… I know we're still recovering from near-death and all, but—bachelor parties still on. Tonight."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're going out? Tonight?"
"Hell yes, we are," Brian said. "I nearly died yesterday. That makes me even more ready to party."
"Bold logic," I muttered.
"Come with us."
"To the bachelor party?"
"Yeah. It's gonna be lowkey. Just drinks, maybe some dancing. I'll keep an eye on you."
I smirked. "You sure I'm old enough?" I don't why but most of external family members always think that am too young
He grinned. "You're with me. You'll be fine. Besides, you've helped out enough to deserve one night off."
I didn't answer, but I didn't say no either.
We hit the city around 9:30 PM.
Brian's friends picked us up in a sleek black SUV. Loud music. Loud laughter. Everyone smelled like cologne and anticipation. There were six of us total, all guys, most of them already half a bottle in before we got to the first stop.
The club was downtown. Neon lights, red rope, a line out front that wrapped around the block.
Brian waved to the bouncer. Apparently, they knew each other.
"I saved his cousin from a fire," Brian whispered to me. "Now I drink free."
We got in fast.
The club pulsed with bass like a second heartbeat. Lights strobed. The crowd moved like waves, bodies crashing and pulling back in rhythm.
I'd never been to a place like this before. Detroit had clubs, sure. But nothing this alive.
"Drinks on me!" Brian shouted over the music, dragging me toward the bar.
I nursed a Coke at first. Just to blend in. But after the fifth toast and third chant of "Brian's last night of freedom!", someone slipped a shot into my hand.
I stared at it while contemplating my future coming hangover. "Hmm, fuck it—we only live once, right?" I said, before downing it.
That was mistake number one.
Mistake number two was thinking I'd stop at one.
"Bro, I swear to God," one of Brian's friends shouted, leaning in way too close, "this DJ is playing nothing but bangers tonight. I haven't partied this hard in years."
"You say that every weekend," someone else yelled, laughing as he tossed back a shot.
Brian grinned and raised his glass. "We're making memories tonight, boys! One last night of chaos before Michelle puts me on lockdown."
Brian leaned in. "Yo, Silas, how you feelin' my man? Hope you aren't tapping out on us this early. Cause we aren't stopping till day breaks, baby!!"
"Hell nah," I said, downing another drink. "I ain't gone stop till I can't feel my face no more."
Before I knew it, I was holding a bottle of Jack myself, dancing to Shaboozey's "The Drink Don't Need No Mix." Everyone around me was chanting along:
"The drink don't need no mix What the fuck is this? I'm tryna get faded baby this ain't gon' do shit the drink don't need no mix I need more than this I'm tryna get faded baby this ain't gon' do shit the drink don't need no mix"
Everyone was vibing, including me. A girl came up and started grinding on me, hips synced with the bassline. I didn't think—just moved with her, let the beat carry us.
I spun her around, pulled her close, and kissed her. Not just any kiss—full-on Frenching, nasty and sloppy like something out of a wild college party.
Off to the side, one of Brian's boys elbowed him, laughing.
"Dude, check out your cousin! Kid's getting freaky tonight."
We danced.
Or rather, they danced, and I moved enough not to look awkward. A few girls came by. Someone got a number. Brian got two.
I was sweating under my hoodie, head spinning just enough to forget what my real name was.
At some point, I sat outside the club with a bottle of water and a plastic container of chicken wings. Don't ask me how I got them. I just remember grease, salt, and the sound of sirens somewhere far off.
Brian sat down next to me.
"You good?"
I nodded. "Just needed air."
He offered a fist. "Glad you came, man. Needed this. Been way too heavy lately."
I bumped it. "Same."
"You're a weird kid. But you're solid."
"Back at you, fireman."
He grinned. "Let's get back inside before they finish all the wings."
We didn't leave the club until after 2 AM.
We stumbled into the apartment sometime later. Quiet laughter. Everyone shushed each other like it made a difference.
I helped Brian to the couch before collapsing into a chair. My body was burning through the alcohol faster than theirs. Healing factor perks, I guess. Lucky me.
My mom's voice echoed from the hallway.
"You're home late."
I winced. "Just having fun, Ma. Promise."
She didn't scold me. Just sighed and disappeared back into her room.
I stayed there a moment, listening to the silence creep back in.
Then I stood, walked to the window, and looked out over the city.
And smiled.
Even chaos needed a break sometimes.