Brightside

06 | night like this

Eddie woke up and she didn't recognize her surroundings but something about what seemed to be a drying vomit mark on the unfortunate shag rug beneath the unfamiliar bed she laid in did trigger something in the middle of her pounding headache. There weren't many identifying features in the bedroom. A few framed photos of nature—gorgeous, she had to admit—and a couple plants tucked into corners. The bedsheets were charcoal grey and went well with the darker beige walls. Everything about the room was pretty plain and maintained. Nothing was out of place, spare the clothes left out on a dresser, but they were folded if nothing else. It was almost passable until Eddie saw a picture of herself. Framed. As threatened, as promised. It was still creepy even with other boxers framed around her.

"Oh, fuck—" Eddie groaned, putting her head in her hands. She tossed the bedsheets off herself and got out of the bed. Taking quick note she was absolutely wearing the same clothes that she had been while she was wandering around aimlessly some odd hours prior. At least she had that going for her.

It might have been the obscene hangover she had but Eddie had never woken up to someone whistling Mick & Moxie's Ghost in their kitchen before and she never wanted to again. (Not because the song was bad—quite the opposite, actually.) (More because whistling was annoying as was the whistler.) Poking her tongue in her cheek, the taste of death in her mouth, Eddie crossed her arms. Wiggling his ass to the music only playing in his head wearing a pair of Red Sox boxers was a look and a half. Hair that stuck up in a way only a couch could've styled. Definitely hadn't noticed her walking into the room.

"Hi." Eddie's voice sounded horrendously disgusting.

Axel jumped and turned around. The dumbass had on a shirt that said Your dad is my cardio across the chest, so Eddie wasn't sure who was in worse shape that morning. "You're awake."

"Sort of."

"Did you take the Aspirin—"

"There was Aspirin—"

"On the nightstand—guess not." Axel held a frying pan up. "I have breakfast if professional athletes eat that kind of stuff. Don't ask me about the nutritional value, there's frozen hashbrowns involved. Put an avocado or something on it if you care that much."

"Thank you."

"There's clothes in the room for you," Axel said. "Thought you might want to get out of those but I wasn't going to make you. I still have laundry to do if you want anything thrown in with it."

"Laundry this early?"

"One, it's noon. Breakfast is a figure of speech." Axel shoved a couple hashbrowns onto two plates, beside a sandwich piled high with too much shit Eddie didn't want to consider the contents of. "Two, it's going to take at least one wash to get the rest of the vomit off my shoes."

"I thought I dreamt that." Did that mean she didn't dream... other parts of the interaction?

"That's a dream to you?"

Eddie frowned. "Guess not."

"No shame. You seemed... upset. About something," Axel said. Pushing the plate toward her. "I would've brought you to yours but..."

"You don't know where I live."

"That..." Axel took a bite of hashbrown and pushed it to the side of his mouth. "And you refused to tell me because of the legally binding clause that is, you guessed it, stranger danger."

(The word danger had never sounded more like the word ninja in the history of those two words, dear God.)

Eddie groaned. "Jesus Christ."