I Want You To Be My Last

Part 28 : Be Mine

He woke to the faint sound of the shower running.

It took him a while to figure out what it was at first. The first thought that came to mind was that he was probably dreaming - he was still half-asleep at this point - because there was no way the sounds he was hearing were real. For one, he wouldn't ever leave the shower on in the apartment no matter how drunk or sleepy he was, and for another, what would be the point of running the shower if he was going to sleep anyway?

He opened his eyes, slowly, blinking the sleepiness away when another unexpected sound on top of the one he was presently mulling over followed, effectively startling him.

He was sitting up before he realized what just happened, frowning when he realized something.

This wasn't his apartment, nor was it P'Mild's. One quick look around told him he wasn't at P'Best's either, nor anywhere familiar he might have ended up in when he was too drunk to get himself home. The entire place was bathed with barely enough light for him to see clearly, but it wasn't so difficult to distinguish the fact that he hadn't been here before now. He would have remembered if he did, even though something told him he could be.

The thought made him frown, mostly in frustration than anything. Another sweeping glance around made him realize why. Upon closer look, he realized that this place's interior closely resembled the design of his own apartment - the white-washed walls, the floor tiles and ceiling, probably even the blackout curtain covering that entire opposite side of the living room - without the unnecessary clutter and - are those action figures lined up on that shelf next to the huge television?

What the hell?

He groaned, panic rising in his throat remembering the way he'd drank himself to oblivion at P'Mild's bar earlier, wondering what had happened and how he'd ended up in someone else's place when he swore he didn't remember leaving P'Mild's bar either.

His hands went to either side of his head, gripping it tightly, hoping he would remember - come on, Gulf, think, think! - but no luck.

He forced himself to look up, gazed around. Fragments of memory were coming back to him - bits of conversation he had with P'Mild, getting drunk in the middle of it, his frustration over his and P'Mew's supposed relationship, the alcohol disappearing along with his inhibition when he was most certain he wasn't drunk enough - but they weren't enough to remind him how he got here.

Where the fuck was he?

The sound coming from the direction of the shower stopped, and he struggled to stand, patting his pockets in search of his phone. Nothing. He tried again, and realized his pockets were empty. His gaze zeroed in on the lump sitting on the nearby coffee table, reaching out and confirming his suspicions. It was his wallet, alright, his car keys next to it.

Okay, but where the fuck was his phone?

Somewhere, a door opened, the sound of it prompting his heart to start beating nervously in his chest. He looked around again, mentally cursing himself for being stupid, for getting drunk when he should have known better. Against his better judgments, he sat back down on the couch he previously found himself knocked out cold, breathing through the dread settling over him like second skin and hoped for the best.

-

He wondered what could be worse, waking up with a hangover the size of Bangkok while simultaneously trying to remember what other stupidity he might have willingly committed without knowing it, or this.

To be honest, he knew he should be more concerned with the former, but watching his unexpected host walking out of his bathroom (or was it his bedroom?) in his pajamas, freshly-showered and his hair still damp, he was certain it was the latter he should be worried about.