Non Verbal

13

13 :) I love you all btw, please never turn mean :)

Happy reading.

I am hungover. I wonder how many times I have woken up and my first thought has been, fuck, a hangover.

It actually hasn't been that many times. I don't normally drink that much.

I feel like I have been body slammed.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god, last night.

I am laid in a bed now, my heart picking up in the state of confusion I am feeling and then I turn over and see Francesca laid asleep next to me and I remember when Sutton picked me up from the couch and carried me into his room. Fran getting in bed next to me, her staying over too.

Oh god, I bet last night was painful for them both. Being around each other.

Ok, well painful for Sutton. I have no idea how Francesca feels about him.

I think I need to focus on my own mess of a life right now, I can worry about theirs in a little bit.

I sit up, my stomach not feeling good, and I know I am going to be sick. I have had this a few times before. Like the hangover sickness.

I slide off the bed, it's early still I think. Shit, I really messed up everyone's night last night. Like Rowen was asleep, ha, he literally told me he didn't want to be my friend and then I fully made him care for me a few hours later.

I push the door open to the bathroom and I quickly fall to my knees, leaning my head over the toilet.

God. Golly.

Christ.

Nathan.

I close my eyes, pained.

Shit.

What the fuck happened?

I realise then that someone must have gotten me changed, only in a top and some shorts that were definitely not mine. I feel my throat contract and I realise I am feeling stressed, not sick.

Then my stomach churns in anxiety and I roll my eyes, staying on the floor, just in case. 

"Would you like me to grab you some water?" Fran says from the door, making me duck my head embarrassed.

Goodness, these people are nice.

They don't even know me. But they immediately cared for me. They could have just called me a cab and sent me home. Instead, they helped.

I can't currently speak because I feel so sick, but I turn my head and nod a little, trying to smile.

She smiles back and leaves.

My face hurts.

Fucking hell Nathan.

I know I hit him first, I do. But fuck I didn't hit him nearly as hard as he smacked me.

I don't even know if his hand was open or closed. But somehow he managed to split my skin, so I guess closed?

I don't even know.

Fuck.

That's all that's running repeatedly in my head. That single word.

He's never once raised a hand to me, I have never hit him. I have never felt the need to. But he was scaring me last night.

That wasn't my Nathan.

Feeling less nauseous, I close the lid and lift myself to sit on the toilet seat. Francesca comes back with a glass of water and some pain killers and she hands them to me, and then she just sits on the bathroom floor and watches me take a sip.