Shameful | Congressman!Kylo x Reader

Chapter 21: Sunday

hi :) after last chapter, 4k words feels short af lols. hope you guys like this one!! I wrote the first part after drinking half a bottle of wine with my friend on nye. pls excuse any typos/inconsistencies

TW: vicious hangover 

Also??? We're at 10.7k reads. I cannot express how grateful I am for each and every one of you. thank you for giving this story a chance. I love you all so so much and wake up so giddy that I get to read new comments!!!! 

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Everything hurts.

I slept a total of four hours last night. After our moment in the powder room, Ren fully disappeared into the crowd, leaving me fluctuant and agitated. Somehow, I managed to say my goodbyes and get home before the comedown began to flow in.

And flow in, it did.

I spent half of the night kneeling in front of the toilet, the seat leaving an angry, pink imprint on my cheek. The remainder was spent squirming around restlessly in my bed, my muscles constantly twitching and aching, my mind frantically replaying fragments of the gala. I finally drifted off, though, tangled in my top sheet with a runny nose and an excruciating headache.

My eyeballs feel as though they've shriveled into the sockets, and my jaw is acutely tender from grinding my teeth. My heart beats wildly in my chest— I feel myself lurching into an anxiety spiral already, grabbing blindly for my phone to check for any notifications detailing any potential impropriety from last night.

I sigh in relief at the lack of alarming texts I'd been anticipating. I check in quickly with Rey:

Me: You alive bb?

After four minutes, she replies.

Rey: barely. never touching that shit again

Me: same. raincheck on brunch?

Rey: ya. i'm literally unable 2 get out of my bed. gnight lmao

After probably 20 minutes of mindless scrolling, I finally roll out of bed and shuffle toward the bathroom, shakily brushing my teeth and starting a hot bath. I grab a to-go box of days-old french fries from my refrigerator and the nearest candle, setting them up on a stool set next to my bathtub. I grab a portable speaker and set it on the bathroom counter, lighting my votive and shutting off the overhead lights.

I almost slip on my way into the tub, grabbing shampoo and conditioner from the shelves to wash my hair sitting down. I nearly start laughing at myself— I'm a mess this morning. I feel like I've been run over by a truck. I even struggle reaching up to grab my detachable shower head to rinse the shampoo out.

I tie up my clean hair and sink down into the bathwater, grabbing my phone from the rim to put on Chet Baker's "My Funny Valentine." It hums through my speakers and soothes me instantly. My eyes slowly slide shut, the all-consuming warmth of my bath enveloping me and loosening my achy joints. I reach toward the stool next to me and grab a handful of fries. I lay there chewing, the flickering candlelight glowing through my eyelids, until the song changes to Eartha Kitt's "Je Cherche un Homme"— a song that's oddly too fitting for this morning... or afternoon. Not entirely sure at this point.

I nearly drift off until my heart leaps out of my chest at the blaring sound of my ringtone. I nearly choke on my third handful of fries. Without casting a second glance at my screen, I accept the call.

The creamy, hushed, velour voice of my dreams sounds through the receiver.

"You're awake. I'll be by to pick you up in an hour."

I can barely get a word out. I clear my throat, hoarsely starting with "Ren, what—"

"Be out front."