Cracks

Hangover- Dylan's POV

Dylan's POV-

The smell of something burning is what woke me up. It smelled like burnt toast and bleach. It was definitely not a pleasant smell to wake up to when you had a raging headache and a stomach that wouldn't stop churning due to the copious amount of alcohol the night before. Who let me do this to myself?

"Ugh..." I heard groaned from beside me with an added gagging sound and whimper. "Oh God," she sighed and let out another muffled groan.

"Same," I answered as I pressed my face into the couch that we were both laying on, trying to block out the light and the smell.

"What in the hell is that smell?!" Presley asked with another gagging sound.

"Hey! I thought that I heard you up in here!" We both groaned at the too loud voice that boomed around the whole house.

"M-mom!" Presley stuttered as she sat up on the couch. "What are you doing?" She asked, I could clearly hear her nervousness in her voice.

I finally followed Presley's lead and sat up from my laid out position. My head was pounding, I had an awful taste in my mouth, and my stomach was very upset. Her mother's voice was not helping anything. I sat there with my head in my hands and a dizzy feeling overcoming me.

"What did you do?" Presley asked as I sat there in pain. "You look... different."

Her tone caught my attention and made me look up. Her mom was standing there in a fifties style polka dot dress with a white apron tied around her waist. Her used to be long blondish hair was cut to her shoulders and curled intricately. Her hair was dyed a weirdly vibrant coppery color and tied up with a clashing bright red scarf.

"You like it?"

"Uh..." Presley looked at her mother skeptically. "Yeah... It's very retro looking."

"I know! I want to be like one of those fifties housewives. They have it all together," she replied. "The prefect wife, mom, and hostess."

"Wife?" Presley asked. "Please tell me that you didn't go off and get married!"

"Without you being there?! I'd never! But eventually, I'd like to get married. I'm going to find the perfect dad for you," her mother replied. "Now... introduce me to your little friend."

"Um... This is Dylan, mom. Dylan this is my mom..." Presley trailed off awkwardly.

"Nice to meet you, son," she said in too nice of a voice. "We'll talk about your non-permission of having a boy over later. For now, come eat breakfast you two!"

"Is that what that smell is?!" Presley said with a disgusted face before wiping it off due to her mom's look of betrayal for a second. "We're really not too hungry, ma. Plus, Dyl needs to go home."

Her face shattered, complete with crocodile tears and everything. "Fine, just starve!" She threw her fit. "I'm just trying to be a good mom. The least you can do is be a good daughter!"

"It's fine, Pres," I interjected easily, trying to ease the tension. "I can totally stay for some breakfast," I said with a placating smile to her mom. Truthfully, my hangover was in full force, and the prospect of food made me want to throw up especially the awful smell of whatever she had cooked. However, I didn't want to upset her mom then make her have to deal with in when I left.

"You don't have to," Pres assured me.

"I don't mind," I smiled, though I knew it was a wobbly smile at best because I felt like shit. Her mom smiled brightly at my words then walked away to the kitchen, expecting us to follow.