OXYTOCIN | EDGAR FROG

Chapter Seven.

All Y/N could feel was sunlight that peaked between the blinds burning her eyelids. She squinted harshly, but that only made her realize how much of headache she had.

She groaned a verbal, "Fuck this," and tossed over, pulling the blanket over her head.

As she became more aware of her surroundings, the side affects of her choices from the previous night were becoming more prominent as well. She could feel how dry her throat was, how her head pounded with every small movement, even the undying need to puke.

Y/N could feel her skin breaking out into cold sweats, and she began to hope that she didn't over indulge into the point of catching a small case of vertigo. But, one can only hope, because when she finally decided to sit up just the tiniest bit, she shook her head and let her head fall right back onto the pillow.

She needed water.

Sometimes hydration was the only way to overcome something like a hangover, and Y/N had learned that from her multiple experiences of partying too hard.

Y/N peeked out from under the covers, noticing the lack of Sam, Edgar, or Alan. God knew what time it was, and where the hell they were at. She decided to look over at Sam's clock on the wall, and she groaned when she realized it said 1:00 in the afternoon.

"Fuck..." she muttered, her bottom lip trembling from the pain of the migraine.

She finally found it in herself to sit up against the bed frame that sat up against the wall. Y/N shuddered from the minor cold sweat she could feel breaking out on her arms, and it made her cringe.

Y/N began to analyze the room, noticing Sam's pajamas on the floor. He definitely was up, most likely not even at the house. But, she then noticed something on her small, bedside table where her lamp sat. A bottle of water sat plainly, and her eyes widened.

Did god really exist? Had her prayers and hopes somehow been answered in the matter of moments?

She swiftly took the water bottle, opening it with a quickness. Some of it splashed onto her top, but she didn't seem to care. Because when the water finally went down her throat, she let out a sigh of relief. It was crazy what difference a small sip of water could make.

But, that's when she realized something she hadn't yet realized.

Y/N looked down at her top, throwing off the blanket off of her legs to find pajama pants. She was in full on pajamas. And, if she could recall, she didn't remember getting water at any point in the night.

She furrowed her eyebrows at this, thinking of all the possibilities. Last night was one huge blur, and that's when it hit her that she honestly didn't even know how she got home last night. Which in her mind, was fucking terrifying.

But, she couldn't sit and think on it. She knew Sam was probably worried sick, wherever he was at currently. She decided it would be best to at least try and take a shower, maybe even get a bite to eat.

Y/N did so slowly, every second feeling like ten minutes. She groaned with every step, her body aching and continuing to freeze. After she threw some comfortable clothes on, she went downstairs.

Michael was casually fixing a sandwich, which made Y/N's mouth water. She was really hungry suddenly.

When he turned around and locked eyes with Y/N, his jaw clenched,

"So... you gonna tell me where you went to last night?"

Fuck. How did he know?

"What—"