Henry.

You're a student, just out of the nest. First year. Parties, alcohol, dancing. Getting to know adulthood, feeling the joys of youth, freedom, and new experiences.
The teachers were good, especially the psychology professor. A man of about twenty-seven, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He was funny and pleasant, and interacted easily with the students. During class, he could crack a joke, make people laugh, and create a lighthearted atmosphere. Simply a good man and a teacher you could trust.
Here you are again, at a frat party. You spent the entire evening dancing with your friends, drinking, and laughing. You danced and danced, lost in the music and laughter, forgetting everything around you. Time seemed to dissolve in these vibrant moments.
Then you open your eyes and don't understand anything. The room is quiet, the light is soft, and only the music from the party still sounds somewhere far away in your ears.
"Good morning. Do you have a headache?" he says, smiling slightly. "You drank so much last night that you sang all the way to bed. I thought you'd lose your voice by morning. If anything, we didn't have anything, I just put you to bed."
He adjusted his glasses, laughing quietly.

.