Happy Endings

29. regret

"I kissed someone, it wasn't you. Leaning in like you were supposed to do. This was what I waited for but it just made me miss you more."

☼

Kellin Quinn opened his eyes and didn't know where he was. It took him at least ten seconds to recognize he was in his room, in his bed, curled up in a ball with some covers on top of him.

He blinked.

His head was spinning.

He turned to lie on his back.

That made it worse.

The white ceiling brought no comfort as every inch of his body started to hurt once he stretched his body back to normal. His head was pounding, his limbs were sore, Kellin supposed from being in the same position for hours, his stomach felt sick, his mouth had a strange, sour taste, and his eyes stung. Shit...

How was everything still spinning so bad? Was he still drunk?

He couldn't make sense of anything yet. He blinked and blinked again, and frowned when small, fragmented pieces of last night started gluing themselves together in his mind. Bit by bit he remembered most of what happened, but not all. 

Kellin twisted his face in disgust. He should've never gone and accepted partying at some stupid club.

What was he thinking? Why did he drink so much? When did he lose control like that? It was so unlike him. The entire night, he wasn't himself. Maybe he got possessed by something and he didn't know. Ridiculous. He couldn't even laugh at his own stupid thoughts.

And yes, he had to admit it had been fun. In the beginning. But now he was feeling the consequences and he hated it. He felt like shit, in every literal sense of the word. All that fun wasn't worth it if he ended up feeling this terrible.

He closed his eyes, willing the pounding headache away and trying to get his head to stop whirling. He knew it didn't work like that but he could hope. And while he did that, he didn't expect his broken memories to get clearer, for all the fog to dissipate and show him what was hiding behind the curtains. Everything came back in a sudden flash of realization. Everything.

Kellin forced his eyes open again.

Oh.

No.

He sat up.

Bad idea.

Too fast.

All the pain and dizziness he was feeling worsened.

He felt like he could be sick again as his breathing faltered, but nothing in his stomach would come up. Water. He needed water. He turned to get up and felt cold without the covers. He quickly discovered that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Why wasn't he wearing a shirt? The floor was cold on his bare feet and he instantly felt like crawling back into bed but he couldn't. He needed medicine. Something. Anything.

Everything was still so dizzy, but he tried to even his breathing. Was this normal? He felt the anxiety rising in the pit of his stomach as he looked around and noticed a glass of water with an aspirin bottle next to it on the bedside table, his phone and wallet and keys there too. He suppressed a groan.

He couldn't think about any of that yet so he distracted himself downing two pills before running his fingers through his hair. It felt disgusting. He felt disgusting. Maybe he should shower, but the urge to go back to sleep was bigger. He'd feel better if he slept more. Yeah. That's what he'll do. Sleep.