A/N: Hope yall enjoy this one it's a bit longer than usual ;)
Authors POV:
Luna wrapped herself in the duvet, waves of nausea adding to her misery. Her phone pinged with message after message, none of them from Damiano; he was a special ring.
Her brain felt like it would swell beyond the capacity of her skull and now her dehydration was too obvious to ignore.
She would have to bump down the stairs on her backside. Again her stomach lurched and gurgled. Perhaps some painkillers would help too. She raised her heavy eyelids halfway only for them to fall shut.
She raised them again and swung her bare feet to the carpet again. It was cold and sticky underfoot, she must have missed that earlier.
One bleary look told her what she'd been eating last night with Victoria, late-night fish, and chips apparently.
She sank back to the bed; too many jobs to do, so much mess, and she was way too hungover to
Once on her feet, the room swayed almost causing her to lose balance and she reached out for the wall.
Her hand slipped along the high-sheen paint and she sprawled onto the carpet with a crashing thump.
The room swirled before becoming stationary again and she used the bedstead to pull herself to standing.
This feeling meant she'd had some fun the night before but somehow it wasn't there in her memory.
Perhaps Victoria had come over, she was always good for a piss-up.
She smacked her lips and her stomach turned in an unfriendly way. Perhaps Victoria would cook for her if she was awake, she was good at fried eggs and bacon.
But first, Luna had the stairs to negotiate. She dug her phone out of her jeans pocket to text her, but there were a surprising number of Instagram posts and notifications for her. One click told her that breakfast was off...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Fuck. my. life" I muttered, my eyes wide and jaw halfway on the floor as I stared at the insta post.
Somehow Vic and I got insanely shit-faced last night and Victoria posted the photos of us on Instagram.
Surprised from seeing a new face next to famous bassist Victoria de Angelis, many people had stalked and found my insta once again.
The notifications were flooding in and so were the crazy fan pages, comments, and screenshots of the pictures of us diving into a bottomless pit of alcohol.
I quickly mute all of my social media account notifications and dial his number.
"We're fucked Dami," I say, biting my nails as I pace around the room
"I know I saw it, is Vic still asleep or can she delete them?" he questions, I glance at Vic to find her passed out on the floor.
