Marathon [h.s]

four

Ellie Meyer

I wake up to what feels like my head being crushed by cement blocks. I can barely even open my eyes due to how bad my head is pounding.

I open them just to the point where a sliver of light can peek through them, but even that makes me want to crawl into a hole and die. I groan at my sensitivity to the brightness and grab the pillow to my left to drown my head in to protect myself from the bright light.

As quickly as I do though, I throw the pillow off of my head and sit up and look around the room in a panic once I realize I'm not in my own. It looks pretty similar to mine, other than the fact that it's a bit smaller and has pale green walls instead of yellow, like mine.

The sounds of thunder rumbling from the sky and the rain hitting against the pavement outside echoes throughout my ears. The weather being a perfect representation of the state I'm in right now.

The place in the bed next to me looks rustled up, like someone was sleeping there but has already woken up for the day.

Dear god, what did I do last night?

The last thing I remember is passing out from exhaustion on Charlotte's shoulder on the car ride home. I assumed that I made it into my room, but I was so drunk that I just have no memory of it. Though it is very clear that I am not at my house right now.

In realization, I yank the sheets that I'm covered up with over my head to look at myself underneath it. I sigh out in instant relief that I'm still fully clothed, so I know I didn't go that far last night.

But I'm in an oversized t-shirt that is so long that it's covering the loosely fitting boxers that I have on.

Boxers? Why do I have on boxers?

I tap my phone that's laying on the nightstand next to me to see the time and it reads 9:27 am.

I slowly drag myself out of bed, squinting my eyes at how bright it is right now and how much more intense it's making my headache. The bottoms of my feet feel sore against the cold tiles of the floor from standing on them for hours last night. I make my way over to creak the bedroom door open to possibly get an idea of where I'm at right now.

I'm met with a long hallway that has multiple doors, which I'm assuming is different bedrooms and possibly a bathroom. The hallway is eerily quiet, leading me to believe that there's no one else up here with me. I can tell that I'm on the second floor due to the staircase that leads downstairs that's right outside the door frame that I'm standing in.

The only thing I can make out here is the sound of a shower running inside one of the rooms of this hallway. I know I'm most likely at Charlotte or Eliza's house, but I've never been to either so right now I'm clueless.

As I'm walking down the stairs to possibly be met with someone that will give me some type of clue of where I am right now, I can hear some clutter coming from the kitchen. Once I make it far enough down the stairs to see into the first floor, I can see someone making something over the stove with their back to me.

I pause in my place to focus on the person standing in the kitchen, and notice that it's Niall.

He only has a pair of grey shorts on, the prominent muscles of his back being shown off, along with his biceps. He steadily moves his arms around as if he's stirring something on the stove. The sound of the utensil scraping against the pan, and the gentle hum coming from Niall's mouth as he's cooking is the only sound heard throughout this house right now.

The very moment that I see Niall, every memory of him comes flooding back to me from last night. I can feel blood rushing to my cheeks over what I initiated, my actions being very unlike myself, but the alcohol that was seeping through me gave me a new level of boldness that I didn't know I had.