The Higher We Soar

10. Too much, too young, too fast

I was abruptly awakened by what I recognized as a loud, drawn-out, muffled groan. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I felt the ache in my neck and back from an uncomfortable, cramped position on the Madd's sofa. Then suddenly everything clicked into place. Where, and why I was.

My still blurry gaze settled on the bed directly in front of me, where something beneath the blanket stirred restlessly, accompanied by a bunch of discontented noises and sporadic curses aimed at the idea of drinking and the universe itself.

I couldn't help but laugh loudly at the sight, though it was probably not the best idea.

As expected, Maddox had completely forgotten my presence in his apartment, let alone in his bedroom. In one swift motion, after hearing my laughter, he flung the blanket aside and turned towards me, his movements a tad too uncoordinated. Our eyes met for just a split second—his bleary and bloodshot, mine still groggy from sleeping on his sofa—before he tumbled out of the bed, his body crashing onto the hard, unforgiving floor. The impact was brutal, his head colliding with the edge of the nightstand with a thwack. A pitiful groan escaped his throat almost immediately, a raw sound that was a blend of pain and what I could only assume was the beginning of a fierce hangover.

The whole incident unfolded so quickly that I didn't even have time to get up from the sofa.

"Oh, shit!" I chuckled nervously as I sprang to his side. "Are you alright?"

"W-what the hell..." he whimpered, clutching his head and squinting at me with bleary eyes. "Lennon? What– shit, it hurts..."

"I'm sorry, Sunshine, I didn't mean to startle y–"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His voice crackled with irritation as he struggled to rise from the floor, only to trip over his blanket in the process.

He then fell silent, his eyes widening, seemingly taken aback by the intensity of his own outburst. Another groan escaped him as he buried his face in his hands. Without another word, I moved to help him, lending him both of my hands and guiding him back onto the bed, then taking up a casual lean against the windowsill opposite him.

Maddox let out a tired sigh once more, his fingers massaging his temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the headache that was no doubt pounding behind his eyes.

"Good morning?" I offered him a sympathetic smile, trying hard to resist the urge to tease him further. "Nice greeting to someone who saved your ass. I'm guessing you don't remember much from last night, then?"

"That sounded ominous. I– well, remember some..." he glanced at me, then rubbed his eyes. "Fuck, I... think I remember you? How did that even happen? Did you come to the party? Shit, it's been a while since I've blacked out..." he cringed. "Was it bad?"

I chuckled, "Depends. What's the last thing you remember?"

He let out a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes, probably trying to recall the events of the previous night, "Well, I... I remember the pub. I definitely remember drinking. And trying to keep up with Zander. There was some sort of drinking contest, I think? Terrible idea. Mine, I think. After that, it's... all a bit of a blur."

"Yeah, sounds like a classic case," I remarked with a nod. "So... you don't remember you called me? Hammered as hell? At three in the damn morning?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "Did I? Is that why you're here?"

I couldn't help but smirk at his disbelief, "Yup, you were in quite the state, my friend. How on earth you managed to choose my number, I have no idea. But you did, and you were pretty clear about having no clue how to get home. Lucky for you, I was feeling pretty generous that night."