Memory Lane (into the wild night) | ishman |

A Rude Awakening

The stale tasting mixture of alcohol, weed, and whatever else Shubman ingested the night before sits on his tongue, as his eyes open and adjust to the sunlight beaming from the window. He blinks a few times, moaning a little at a small crick in his neck. His whole body hurts, he has no idea what happened the night before, but at least he's safe in his hotel room, blinking at the view of the other Palms Resort tower.

Except. When he checked in, he could have sworn his room had a view of the Vegas skyline...because the other tower was on the other side of the hall.

Face scrunching up in confusion, he reaches over to the bedside table for his phone, but finds it face down on the floor instead. He moans, reaching down for it to find at least 20 missed calls and a hundred texts total from his friends, and his battery on 3%. Shubman rolls his eyes, his charger had to be around here somewhere, and as he reaches back, turning over at the same time, his hand hit, and eyes are met with the shocking sight of a strange man sleeping completely naked in his bed.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Shubman shouts, squealing as he falls off the bed in his effort to get away from the man. It's not until landing on the ground that he realizes he too is naked, and he tugs at the sheet to cover himself up. "Who the fuck are you?"

The man darts awake, rubbing his eyes and straightening up as he tries to get a grip on what's happening. "Wha-wh-who the fuck are you?"

"As if I'd give away my name to the strange man who broke into my room!"

"Babe, I don't know who you think you are or what the fuck's going on, but this is definitely my room." The man says. He finally gets a good look at Shubman, sitting on the ground covering himself almost completely with the bedsheet, and he gives him a smirk.

For his part, Shubman is absolutely seething. "Don't call me 'babe', and this is..." his voice trails off as he frantically looks around, realizing quickly that this is, in fact, not his room.

That makes more sense actually, if the lack of view, and any of  Shubman's bags is anything to go by. In fact, the room seems mostly untouched, other than the mess of clothes trailing to the bed, and used condoms strewn about in 3 places around it. Used condoms. Shubman suddenly feels the headache of an oncoming hangover, and a sickness building up in his stomach.

Oh he is so heated now.

"YOU!" Shubman shouts, pointing an angry finger right at the strange man, whose eyes go a little wide. "You took advantage of me!"

"WHAT?" The man yells back. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm not! I was drunk, and we clearly had sex last night, and I don't remember any of it! All three rounds of it apparently!"

"Woah, woah, woah! Careful who you go throwing accusation at! I don't remember any of last night either, so obviously I was drunk last night too. Maybe you took advantage of me!"

"Are you kidding me?" Shubman groans, sitting up on his knees. Right hand still clutching the sheet, while the left slams flat on the bed. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

"No it's not," the man replies, pulling his own sheet down enough to show his torso. The, admittedly muscular, chest and stomach area is riddled with tattoos, bruises, a few scratches, and something very distinctly teeth shaped on the shoulder. "Look at me, I look like was attacked by a goddamn animal," He continues, looking down at the damage from the activities of the previous night. His eyes widen when they catch the mark on his shoulder, and he hisses as his finger pokes it. He quickly turns that finger to poke back at Shubman. "You did this to me."

"I-I...," Shubman has no response. He wracks his brain trying to remember anything about the apparent marathon they ran on each other last night, but everything comes up as a muddled haze. He stares down the hand pointing at him, and his jaw drops when he sees the twinkle of a silver band around the ring finger. "Oh. My. God. You're married? You got me drunk and fucked me silly, all while you are married? What is wrong with you?"

Confusion scrunches up on the man's face. "What? I'm not—" he cuts himself off, bringing his left hand up to his face. His eyes widen for just a moment at the sight of the silver band. "I'm not married?"

"Don't try to gaslight me! I can see the ring plain as day on your hand!" Shubman huffs, grabbing said hand to waive the ring covered finger around. "You're married, cheating scum, who takes advantage of drunk men on vacation!"

"Hey, I swear I'm not—" Suddenly, his gaze shifts to Shubman's own left hand, still gripping the bed, and a sly smile forms on his face. "Would you look at that, you seem to be married too."

"What the fuck are you on—holy shit," Shubman gasps, looking down at his own hand to see a white gold band wrapped his left ring finger. "Wh-what is going on?"

"Sure is a conundrum," the man muses, realization flashing in his hazy brown eyes.

"I-I'm not married, I can't be married," Shubman mumbles to himself, staring wide-eyed at the ring, heart racing a mile a minute.

"Might get my mother off my back for a bit," the man shrugs.

"Can you please take this seriously!" Shubman sneers. He picks up a pillow and throws it at the man's face. "D-did we actually...like, do you think we..."

"Yeah, I think we did the age old Las Vegas tradition of getting married." The man says, tossing the pillow behind him. "What was your name again?"

Shubman continues to stare at the ring, body going suddenly numb. "Shubman Gill."

"Kishan, actually," the man quips, trying his best to diffuse the tension in the room.

Shubman blinks. "What?"

The man shrugs. "Bad joke, sorry. Just, if we got married, then your last name might be Kishan. I'm Ishan Kishan"

[Sooo do we like the new story sinnersss🫦?]