Bastille Imagines

The Good Hangover

Alcohols a bitch.

Lying, face down, into the pillow below you in a paralysed state that alcohol has consumed you in. You've already lost whatever sense of logic you have and wonder why you're suffocating under a pillow. You're still debating after three weeks whether this party is a good idea or not, but according to Kyle, it is. You don't see the pros of this option and fail to see how this would even benefit your life in any way, but with some persuasion and the use of hypnotic puppy eyes you had to go along with it. Besides, it's in your house. You drank more than you wanted and expected after seeing the mess that your guests have somehow created, you decide to loosen up and let the alcohol burn whatever stress is inside you.

Barely able to function, you manage to manoeuvre your head to the side where you can finally breath in some fresh air.

Well, not quite so fresh.

There are plenty of people around you that it blurs your vision causing your head to spin, confusing you of your bearings and surroundings. You're convinced that your bed is a better place than a sofa surrounded by many other people in a similar state. On your travels, you find Kyle walking into walls and slurring incoherent words. He too is just as wasted as you are. Why did you have this party again? The thought's already escaped your mind as well as other things that are probably important.

"Heyyyyy," Kyle drones, incapable of keeping his balance. "Dan wants to seeeee yooou-" his words are interrupted by hiccups, taking Kyle by surprise as if he's never experienced a hiccup. Okay, maybe you're not as drunk as him.

"Kyle, I think you should sit down before you hurt yourself."

"Okay." And like that, he's gone.

It took you three attempts to get a grip on the door handle as your alcoholic self loses all knowledge of door opening. Stumbling in, you notice a shadow sitting on the edge of your bed with their head unnaturally drooping slowly, chin sunken into their chest and falling forward. The loser was falling asleep sitting up. On a bed.

"Hey! Hey! Heyyy!" You shout, unaware of your volume. You come to recognise the shadow as Dan as that unmistakably noticeable quiff, which had somehow been misshaped, sits proudly on top of his head. Your alarming shouts had jolted him back to a normal sitting position. You notice, somehow with whatever senses you have left, that he too his completely off his nut. He mumbles and slurs like English isn't even a language any more.

You've only seen him like this a couple of times but he was always whisked away by someone who's responsible before things got too out of hand. This is your chance. You get to see drunk Dan. Quick! Where's your phone?

"Dan?" You mumble, taking your seat next to him.

"Mmh mhm hmm?" He replies, rolling his head around in a drunken manner. You give up, communication has failed. Miserably.

Never mind.

"I'm just gonna lie down." You state. Doing so, you catch Dan's hand which sends him tumbling down with you, just inches of space between you two.

"Kyle said you wanted to see me?"

"Ohhh yeah. That's r-right. Kyle. You. Erm. Yeah. I just wanted to say that..."

You wait, listening intently. C'mon don't stop now.

"That..."

Suddenly an eruption of snores race to your ears. How typical. You debate with yourself whether to interrupt his unreasonably loud snoring or leave him be, but you're just so desperate to get whatever he was about to say out of him.