𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒆 - 𝑷𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐 𝑮𝒂𝒗𝒊

08.

I was awakened by the sound of rumbling and kitchen utensils. What the heck? I rub my eyes mindlessly, trying to get used to the bright lighting in the room. I probably forgot to close the curtains last night. But this also has a charm, waking up to an orange tinted room from the sun that's peeping in. I slowly sit up as memories from last night come back to me here and there. But soon enough I felt a hard sting in my head, that typical hangover feeling.

I feel nauseous and suddenly have much less desire to get up and start the day. I prefer to stay in my bed until it gets dark again. But the choice isn't really up to me, is it? I should have been more responsible yesterday. How did I let it get this far again? I often indulge in alcohol, I guess that's one of the downsides of having English roots. It's pretty much the culture there to get drunk, especially in busy London. Also my mum was an alcoholic, not one of the worst cases but we got into trouble from time to time because of it. Never a good situation to be in, and yet still I'm close to following that path.

A delicious smell entered my nose. I just realized that someone is present in my apartment and that someone is Pablo Gavi. Pablo Gavi is cooking in my kitchen? Miracles are not out of the world yet, that's for sure. Did something happen last night, why is he here? Did we kiss? Oh no, please tell me we didn't hook up. That's impossible, I would remember such thing, no matter how much alcohol's running through my veins. I rest my hand on my lower stomach, wishing I could turn back time and not drink. It always goes like this. Drinking, it feels amazing in the moment, you're feeling yourself. And the next morning you want to punch yourself for doing that. It drives me crazy.

I guess it's time to go keep my guest company. Shame on me that he's the one preparing breakfast in my kitchen and I'm sitting here grumbling. I stand on my feet and feel a huge weight on my head. Hard stings shoot through my temples, making my fingers go up to massage them. Why did I drink so much? Why? What was going through my stupid head? I rush to the bathroom to check the extent of the damage. Very bad is my mirror's answer. I place my hands hopelessly on my flushed cheeks as I stare at my fucked up reflection. That gives me a rush of motivation to pick myself up and get ready, cause there is no way on earth he's seeing me in this state.

After I looked more like a human again and had combed my hair, I finally left the bathroom. I walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but the oversized shirt and underwear I fell asleep in, which I also just realized, shit. It was too late to turn back when he saw me and a smile settled on his face almost immediately. It looked like he was stirring some eggs on the stove.

"Morning sunshine." he said with a grin as he spotted me behind the corner, making me blush within seconds.

"Good morning." I answer, clearing my throat.

"Did you sleep well?" Pablo askes caringly, taking his eyes off me to look at the food he was making.

"Yeah, I guess. Just having a terrible headache right now." I answer in all honesty, it almost sounded like a sigh.

"Oh, that's not good." he says, eyes looking my way again. "I have a recipe against hangovers tho, it's a drink I can make you."

"As long as there's no alcohol in it." I try to crack a joke but quickly regret it, shaking my head at how ridicilous it sounded.

He chuckles as he sees my reaction. "I think that was funny." he tells me, trying to make me feel better.

"Sure you do." I giggle and put my hands on my sides. "What are you making, Gavira?" I ask teasingly as I step closer to him.

"Eggs. Everyone loves my eggs." he assures me proudly, showing off his smirk.

"Sure they do. So you layed these yourself?" I'm already grinning when he turns at me and gives me a look.