Finn Wolfhard☆~

He walked far away; he'd had a fight with his friends, and shots of vodka on an empty stomach weren't a good combination. "Conceited? A clown with money?" that's what they'd said. He walked for a long time until he was lost, covering his face so no one would see that a former "Pretty Boy" of the movies looked like a depressed alcoholic. He didn't even know where he was anymore; the cold brushed against his nose, and his headache seemed to be mocking him.
She took a step near that shiny blanket that looked like it was covered in sequins, took another step forward, babbled, and then...

She pulled him out, but he wasn't breathing anymore, that terrified her, she screamed for help but there was no one there.
—No no no, shit!
She recited desperately to the wet body, grabbed his arm, and there she lost the pulse in that vein that stopped moving like a dead root. She had done risky things, but this was the worst; the horrible thing was going all the way underwater. She placed her palms on his chest, trying her best. 1... 2... 3, 1... 2... 3. She pushed slowly, rhythmically, without unnecessary force; he didn't respond. She inhaled sharply, moved closer; he reeked of alcohol and wrinkled his nose.
She parts his thin, pale lips and gives him the air that life stole from him when he decided to flee. After two breaths, he coughs weakly at first, his cough rising several times, spitting out the lake water that had seeped into his lungs like an intruder with a broken clock. He looks dizzy, and for a moment his head falls back and he seems to lose his bearings. A palm touches his pale, freckled cheek, bringing him back to his senses.

—What the hell is wrong with you?!
"I exclaimed, annoyed by the blow," first sequins, then water, then darkness, finally light, and now a blow.