Friends of mine.

Chapter Twenty one.

"Come on, Nick. You can't stay in there forever! Just let me in."

I am not surprised this is how the next day turned out, I knew by how Nick was last night he would be fucked tomorrow, and it's apparently worse than I expected according to Nick. I've been standing outside his room for I don't know how long, waiting for him to let me inside, but he won't budge, and to be quite fair, it's his own fault.

"I can't. I look and feel awful."
I hear from the other side of the door, his voice sounding croaky and miserable, I suppose in some ways I feel bad for him.

I lean my head on the door, letting out a groan.
"You think I care about what you look like? Open the door Nick, you've only got yourself to blame."
I say, slightly regretting the last few words I said, probably reducing my chance of getting in here.

"What's the point? If you just sit and yell at me it's not going to help."

I give a look of pure confusion on my face, as if he is able to see me through the door.

"Why would I do that? I'm wanting to help you, not insult you."
I try to reassure him, keeping my hand on the door handle, waiting to be told I can enter.
It stays silent for a while and I wait patiently, not wanting to add on anything more in case I change his mind on letting me in.

"Fine, come in."

I sigh in relief, wishing he would be a bit more enthusiastic about me coming to see him, but maybe it's not the best time for that.
I open the door as gently and quietly as I can, the door squeaking slightly, making me close me eyes in fear of annoying him.
I open my eyes slowly, soon met with complete darkness, not one light on, the curtains shut.
I look around the room, my eyes soon meeting Nick's bed, I squint my eyes, just about being able to see him, he's completely covered in blankets, a pillow over his face, turned away from me.

"Don't turn on the light."
He groans, keeping himself turned the other way.

"I can't see a bloody thing, Nick."
I whisper, feeling as though I have to because I know people yelling when you're hung over is the worse feeling.

"If you turn it on I'm not saying one word to you."
He says sternly, his words muffled since his face is in the pillow, I'm finding it very difficult to see anything he's doing, we're both in complete darkness.

"Fine."
I sigh, closing the door behind me.

I take small steps across the room, my leg soon hitting off the bed, I feel relief all around me since I didn't trip up over anything.
I stand at the bottom of the bed for an awkward amount of seconds, my hands in my pockets as I watch Nick, being able to see him better up close.
His eyes are closed with his eyebrows furrowed, probably in pain, his chest rising and falling slowly as he hugs a pillow tightly, many blankets rapped around him.
I take a deep breath, the silence is absolutely killing so I have no choice but to sit down, trying to break it somehow.
I take a seat at the end of the bed, lifting one of my legs onto the mattress, trying to get comfortable, soon seeing Nick's eyes slowly flutter open.

"I fucked up. The bags under my eyes are horrible and I don't want anyone to see me. I don't even think makeup will be able to fix it."
He says, finally speaking up, causing me to look to him.

I feel a slight emptiness in my stomach, I hate to hear him talk about himself in that way, as if it even matters that he looks a certain way, he looks... fine, no matter what.

"Oh, Nick. Wise up. You're being stupid and you know it. You got drunk and you feel a bit rough, it was one time."

I say, subconsciously moving closer to him on the bed, soon feeling the warmth of his leg on my thigh. I get the urge to move away from him, but he doesn't seem to mind, I wish I could see his face to make sure of it though.