Troublemakers • Weasley & Jordan

The Hangover

"I tend to freak myself out, will you come a little closer?" - Scrawny by Wallows

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Lee awoke the following morning with a pounding in his temples like no other.

He didn't remember much from the night before, but he remembered bits and pieces, and most of all, he remembered being an idiot. He had disregarded his being a lightweight and, for some reason, thought that this had changed over the summer.

Perhaps just a few drinks, he had thought– I bet my endurance has changed with some age.

When he rolled over to meet the sunlight streaming in through the window and groaned, he thought, idiot.

Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, eyes squinting into the morning light. A moment after he did, just enough to take in the fact that he was alone in the large dorm room, the wave of nausea hit his stomach.

It was as if movement was forbidden– one twitch of his stomach and he was grimacing in pain, something brewing, and the boy was throwing the covers off of himself and mumbling a curse.

He stumbled to the bathroom and shoved the door open, barely processing anything around him as he focused on making it to the toilet.

After slamming the lid open, his head was in the bowl, and once the deed was done he was softly groaning yet again, cringing at himself with a gradually settling stomach.

And after the remains of last night had left him into the pool of water below, his spinning head began to take in the fact that the shower was running behind the curtain three paces to the right of him.

Slowly lifting his head, his eyes caught sight of the steam drifting around the ceiling, the warm, wet air soaking into his skin. He was still trying to regain himself when he heard the voice from behind the closed curtain.

"Lee?"

He shut his eyes, sighing. "How'd you know it was me?"

George made an amused noise. "Because none of our other roommates were tossing back shots of moron juice last night."

Lee dropped his head onto his arm, resting on the edge of the toilet bowl with a groan.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to– I just didn't know that you were– sorry. Fuck, I'm a mess."

George grinned to himself in the shower, still amused. He poked his head out from the edge of the curtain to catch Lee's eye. Man, he looked awful.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "I'd be more worried about your 'mess' though. You look bad, mate. Bad."

"Gee, thanks," Lee mumbled, eyes still closed. His stomach was still turning, but he knew the one big puke was a step in the right direction.

George laughed. "You know what I mean. Alright, just– stay there."

He leaned back and shut the shower off, hearing Lee's soft moan of agony.

Lee was too miserable to open his eyes for a moment, but he heard some movement from the shower after the water ceased and finally met his gaze with George stepping out, having just tied a towel around his waist. He had barely dried off yet, so the droplets of water were still scattered about his skin and his red hair was floppy on his head.

He wanted to groan and roll his eyes at the sight of George's perfect physique because of how ridiculous it all was– he was always envious of his friend's naturally-kept appearance. But for now, all he could do was sigh as he slumped on the toilet seat, watching George pull the curtain back in place and turn around, reaching for a smaller towel.