twenty two | hungover soup

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gun stirred awake to the faint clatter of dishes and the muffled hum of a voice coming from outside the room

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

gun stirred awake to the faint clatter of dishes and the muffled hum of a voice coming from outside the room. his brows furrowed as he shifted beneath the covers, the pounding in his head making him groan. sunlight filtered through the curtains, adding to the throbbing sensation in his skull.

he blinked a few times, forcing himself to focus on his surroundings. this wasn't his room. the bedding was slightly harder, the walls unfamiliar, and the scent lingering in the air—clean with a subtle hint of cedar and baby powder—which wasn't his. confusion prickled at his hazy thoughts until his gaze fell on the side table.

a glass of water sat there, condensation beading on its surface. beside it were two pills and a yellow sticky note, the handwriting neat but casual: "take these. feel free to wash up and change into some clean clothes. choose whatever you like :)"

gun let out a small breath, equal parts relief and amusement washing over him. the note could only belong to one person: off. the events of last night came rushing back in fragments—off showing up, the park, throwing up, and... oh god, the cartwheels. his cheeks flushed at the memory.

grateful for the thoughtful gesture, he reached for the pills and popped them into his mouth, washing them down with a long sip of water. the cool liquid was soothing against his dry throat. sitting up, gun ran a hand through his tousled hair and spotted a door slightly ajar, revealing a bathroom.

he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. his muscles ached slightly as he made his way to the bathroom, but the prospect of a shower was too inviting to ignore.

the bathroom was modest but clean, the tiles gleaming under the light. a fresh towel was neatly draped over the rack, and a bottle of body wash sat by the sink. gun quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped under the warm spray, letting the water cascade over him. the heat worked wonders on his aching body, and he felt some of the fog in his mind begin to lift.

around fifteen minutes or so later, he emerged feeling refreshed. wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped back into the bedroom, greeted by the savory aroma of something cooking. his stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the club.

𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐙 | offgunWhere stories live. Discover now