bloom. : a fireafy fic

Chapter Seven

His head was throbbing violently. He wasn't exactly sure where he was. He felt stiff, groggy, and generally uncomfortable.

Firey opened his eyes. He slowly sat up in bed, trying not to aggravate his headache even further. Light was filtering through the window, blinding and painful. He shielded his eyes and squinted to look at his surroundings. Yep, this was a bedroom.

He scanned himself for anything particularly fatal. He concluded he felt like shit.

The ginger became painfully aware that he was wearing only half clothes from the night before, and realization smacked him in the head at full force. That's right. He went to Match and Pencil's party or whatever. He looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was 1 pm.

Fuck!

Firey bolted out of bed, quick as an arrow. He remembered Leafy suddenly, very suddenly, and realized he had made a grave mistake.

What even happened last night? He didn't go home? Leafy was surely awake now. She definitely knew of his absence. He really messed up this time.

A feeling of dread bloomed within his gut. What was he going to do with himself now? Why the hell did he not have half a thought to return home?

He found his jacket and his pants on the floor, which were not on his body for some reason. He threw open the door and rushed down the stairs.

To make things worse, she had no idea where he was. If he woke up to Leafy missing, he would be beside himself.

At the bottom of the stairs, he ran into Match and Pencil, talking on their couch. Their environment was surprisingly clean despite their party last night.

"Rise and shine, sunshine!" Pencil shrieked happily. "How was your beauty rest, princess?"

Match giggled. "You're very, how should I say this? Touchy. Did you know that Firey?"

The girls looked towards each other and giggled again.

Touchy?

Firey narrowed his eyes in confusion. Touchy in what sense? He chose not to think about it.

"What happened last night?" The orange eyed boy turned towards Pencil.

"A lot," she answered vaguely, before both the girls giggled again.

Annoyance gripped Firey. "Care to be more specific?" he asked, more demanding this time.

Match smirked. "Well, you got very drunk."

"Whatever, man." Firey rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna go." The boy pivoted and hurried out the door. His mind raced with ways to fix this problem. He picked up the pace of which he returned home, faster and faster, until he was sprinting through the streets. His headache was killing him. He felt like vomiting.

He didn't stop. The only thing that mattered was Leafy.

He tripped over the first step on the staircase and staggered into the wall, cursing himself. He pleaded mentally for Leafy to be home, asleep in bed, even though it was extremely unlikely. He knew he would have to explain himself eventually.

No relationship thrives on secrets.

The ginger stabbed his key into the lock, muttering in annoyance when he couldn't fit it in the slot. When he finally managed to unlock the door he flung it open.

Smokey looked up from the top of his cat tree.

Firey kicked the door shut. "Leafy?"

The damn cat seemed to be judging him. He scoffed at the orange feline and turned away. Smokey turned his nose up in the air and looked in the other direction.

He ran through the apartment, checking every room and every crevice of every room. No Leafy. She wasn't home. She probably already got up for work. She, without a doubt, knew he went out that night.

The boy returned to the kitchen and lingered for a minute, staring at the door. He should text her. He should call her.

But he had no confidence to.

His girlfriend's cat stalked into view. Smokey crouched over the floor and vomited in front of him.

Firey stared.

He looked at Smokey, and then at the pile of vomit. His gaze returned to Smokey and he deadpanned.

Smokey looked up, and if a cat could look smug, the damn cat sure did.

"Bro," Firey groaned. "Are you serious? I have to clean that up now."

The cat flicked his tail.