Aftermath Of Excess
The next day by night fall, Troy's penthouse had been completely transformed. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city skyline, while dim, golden lights illuminated the sleek space. A professional sound system vibrated through the walls, setting the perfect atmosphere for the long night ahead. Bottles of expensive champagne gleamed on the marble countertops, waiting to be popped.
Jay was already there, making final tweaks to the playlist, nodding his head to the beat as the bass thumped through the speakers.
The first guests started trickling in.
Ted and Bobby arrived early, each with a plus-one. They greeted Jay with a handshake before settling into the living room, scanning the space.
Mark arrived next, flanked by two striking women who clung to his arms like trophies. He wasted no time slipping into the crowd, his signature grin in place as he charmed his way through conversations.
"Classic Mark," Bobby muttered, shaking his head as he watched their friend work his magic.
"Where's the man of the night?" Mark asked, adjusting his cufflinks.
"We haven't seen him yet," Bobby replied, taking a sip of his drink.
And then, as if on cue, Troy appeared.
Standing at the top of the staircase, he commanded attention effortlessly. His tailored black suit hugged his frame perfectly, the silver chain against his chest catching the light as he descended. The room seemed to pause for a moment before erupting into cheers.
Troy grinned, soaking it all in like he was born for this.
He grabbed a mic from the DJ's booth, raising his glass.
"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Troy called out, his voice commanding the room. The chatter died down as all eyes turned to him. He stood at the center of the penthouse, his confidence radiating under the dim golden lights.
"First off, thank you all for showing up tonight—it means a lot. Now, I've been working on something raw, unapologetic, and true to who I am." He paused, letting the anticipation build. Then, with a sly grin, he raised his glass. "We worked hard for this moment, and tonight, we celebrate! To all my real ones—this is just the beginning!" ."Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… Fuck Boy Anthem!"
The crowd roared in agreement, glasses lifted high as the music exploded through the speakers.
Lights pulsed in sync with the heavy bass line of his unreleased track, the speakers shaking the walls.
Song Intro:
> 𝐘𝐨, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐰
𝐀 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲
> 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
The beat was provocative, brash, and undeniably Troy.
The room erupted into cheers and laughter, the audacious title sparking immediate intrigue. Some guests exchanged knowing glances, while others simply whooped in excitement.
Troy smirked, enjoying the reaction, then turned to the DJ. "Run it."
> 𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢!, (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭?)
𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐤!!!!
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐲
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤
The bass dropped, deep and heavy, vibrating through the floor. A sharp snare followed, setting the rhythm as the beat pulsed through the speakers.
The crowd responded in kind, dancing wildly and shouting along to the bold chorus. Some women twerked to the rhythm, while others filmed the scene, their faces lit with excitement.
Ted shook his head with a laugh. "Only Troy could pull this off."
"Facts bro, that dude is a fucking fuck boy " Bobby agreed, raising his glass.
Then, Troy's voice filled the room, smooth and full of swagger.
The hook hit first, catchy and addictive, making people nod their heads in sync. The verses followed—bold, confident, and completely unfiltered. Each line carried his signature charisma, laced with wit and the kind of attitude that made his fans love him and his critics talk.
As the song played, the party came alive. People danced, rapped along, and raised their drinks, already vibing to what was clearly a hit.
Aria finally arrived at the party, stepping into the penthouse as the energy in the room pulsed around her. The bass from Fuck Boy Anthem vibrated through the walls, and the place was packed with people swaying to the beat, drinks in hand, their excitement at an all-time high.
She exhaled, pushing through the crowd, squeezing past groups of party goers until she spotted Jay near the DJ booth.
"Finally," Jay greeted her with a grin, raising his drink. "Didn't think you'd make it."
Aria rolled her eyes. "Like I'd miss this."
As the beat intensified, she found herself instinctively moving to the rhythm, her body responding before her mind could protest. It was impossible to ignore—Troy had created something infectious, something that demanded movement.
Jay noticed and smirked. "You're feeling it, huh?"
Aria scoffed but kept swaying slightly. "It's alright," she admitted, though the way her hips started moving said otherwise.
Jay laughed. "That's how it starts."
Aria shook her head but couldn't stop herself from getting into the groove. Maybe, just maybe, Troy had created something bigger than she expected.
Jay leaned toward her. "I told you," he said with a smirk. "This one's gonna blow up."
Aria sighed, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah."
Troy caught her reaction and shot her a wink from across the room.
This was his world, his moment. And he was owning it.
Across the street, in her apartment, Ella stood by the window, drawn to the commotion. She frowned, crossing her arms. "Is he serious right now?" she muttered to Trisha, who was lounging on the couch.
Trisha, grinning ear to ear, waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, he's serious, alright. You've gotta admit, though—he's got the room in the palm of his hand."
Ella rolled her eyes and turned away, heading toward her bedroom. "I'm done with this circus. Goodnight."
Back at the party, the track ended to a thunderous round of applause. The room buzzed with excitement, the energy palpable. Troy held up his hand, his signature grin lighting up his face as he silenced the crowd.
"Thank you, thank you! You guys are incredible," he said into the mic. "This one's for anyone who's ever been misunderstood but still stood tall. Let's keep the vibe alive tonight!"
As the DJ transitioned into an upbeat dance track, the crowd erupted once more, filling the apartment with movement and laughter. Troy, basking in the success of the moment, handed off the mic and waded through the sea of admirers toward his bar.
After a brief exchange of celebratory drinks and flirtatious smiles, Troy sauntered off toward one of the guest rooms, flanked by two stunning women who were all too eager to follow. His arm draped casually around both their waists, and whispers followed him as he ascended the staircase. Some watched in admiration, others in amusement—but for Aria, it was nothing short of disappointing.
From the corner of the room, Aria, Ted, Bobby, and Mark stood in silence, watching the scene unfold.
"There he goes again," Ted muttered, taking a slow sip of his drink.
Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "Man never changes."
Bobby sighed, rubbing his temples. "You'd think, after everything, he'd at least try to be smarter about it."
Aria clenched her jaw, gripping the strap of her bag. She had tried—tried to guide him, keep him focused, help him see the bigger picture. But this? This was the same reckless Troy, making the same reckless choices.
Without another word, she turned on her heels, grabbed her bag, and stormed out of the penthouse.
"Aria!" Bobby called after her, but she didn't stop.
She had seen enough.
As the door slammed shut behind her, the music inside continued to play, the party unfazed. But something inside her told her that this time—this time, she wouldn't be coming back so easily.
"Guess we're crashing here tonight," Bobby added, a resigned look on his face. "No way we're cleaning up or dealing with these guests when he's… occupied."
Ted smirked. "Typical Troy. Throw a party, leave us to babysit the aftermath."
Despite their teasing, all three knew the drill by now. They'd hang back, let the night wind down, and stay over to make sure the guests left without turning the apartment into total chaos.
As the party raged on, the three friends settled into their roles, glancing occasionally toward the stairs where Troy had disappeared, shaking their heads with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
In the bedroom, Troy and the two women indulged in a wild threesome and uninhibited night, the music from the party below fading into the background as the energy shifted to the private space upstairs.
Downstairs, as the party wound down and the last of the guests trickled out, Bobby, Mark, and Ted took over cleanup duty—or what they could manage in their mildly intoxicated states. Exhausted, they eventually crashed on the couches in the living room, the faint hum of music still lingering in the air.
By 6 a.m., Mark stirred, groaning as he rubbed his temples. "Alright, guys, time to go," he muttered, nudging Bobby and Ted awake.
Bobby stretched with a yawn. "Man, my back is killing me. These couches are terrible."
The house was a complete mess, a testament to the wild party from the night before. Empty bottles, half-eaten plates of food, and discarded cups littered every surface. The floor was sticky from spilled drinks, and the air smelled faintly of alcohol and sweat.
Mark paused, surveying the living room in mild disgust. "Man, this place looks like a tornado hit it."
Bobby kicked aside a random high heel lying near the couch and shook his head. "Troy really knows how to throw a party, huh?"
Ted picked up what looked like someone's forgotten purse, holding it up with a raised brow. "Forget the mess. Look at this."
Mark walked over to the corner of the bar and froze, pointing to a pair of brightly colored underwear hanging off the edge of a chair. "Uh… please tell me I'm not seeing this."
Bobby and Ted turned to look, both bursting out laughing.
"Somebody must've gotten really into their twerking," Bobby said, smirking as he picked up a pair with a pen and tossed it onto a pile of discarded items.
Ted shook his head, laughing. "Troy's going to have a field day cleaning this up—or paying someone else to."
Mark sighed, grabbing his jacket. "We are not sticking around for this disaster. He's on his own."
The three friends exchanged amused looks before heading to the door, leaving the chaos of Troy's apartment behind.
Before leaving, the three glanced toward the stairs leading to Troy's room.
"You think he's good?" Mark asked, pausing at the front door.
Bobby smirked. "Oh, he's fine. Trust me, nothing gets to that guy."
Ted laughed. "Yeah, he's probably still going at it. Let's go before we get dragged into his aftermath."
Satisfied that their friend was likely still in his usual element, the trio slipped out quietly, leaving Troy to whatever awaited him when he woke up.