(nischa) I write poems to burn by firelight ┋Ride the cyclone

Hangover

Mischas pov

11am

I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a train, my head pounding, mouth dry, body heavy. It's not the worst hangover I've had, but it's definitely enough to make me regret last night's decisions. I roll over and squint at the old alarm clock that looks like it might give up any day now. It's way later than I meant to sleep in, but there's no way I'm dragging myself to school like this.

Groaning, I reach for my phone and see a notification.

Poet: One message.

Before opening Noel's message, I send a quick text to Talia.

M: Good morning, my love. Hope you slept well.

Talia's responses have been strangely distant lately—short texts and infrequent replies. Maybe she's just tired of dealing with me. Hell, I'd be too. I tell myself she's probably just busy, and push the worry to the back of my mind for now.

I then open Noel's chat.

N: Good morning! How are you feeling?

M: Morning. I am not felling great. How about you Poet?

N: Honestly, im feeling like shit. The alcohol must've messed with my meds or smth. I think im gonna stay home.

M: Yeah me too.

N: Wanna hang out at my house later? If you feel better.

M: Sure, when?

N: 3pm?

M: Works for me. See you then.

N: Ok great! See you then, try to rest up!

I toss my phone aside and settle back into bed. I close my eyes, hoping to shake off the leftover grogginess before heading to Noel's place.

2pm

I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Squinting at the clock, I realize it's already 2 p.m. I've got an hour before I'm supposed to meet Noel. Groaning, I force myself out of bed, still feeling the faint remnants of last night—the kind of hangover that's more annoying than painful.

I make my way upstairs to check if my "parents" are home, but the house is quiet, as usual. I stagger to the bathroom and decide a hot bath might help with the pounding headache and lingering nausea.

The warm water works like a balm, easing the tension in my muscles and clearing my foggy head a little. After I'm done, I wrap myself in a towel and head back to the basement.

I try to find whatever clean clothes I can, but it looks like my "mother" hasn't touched my laundry in weeks. I'm left with no choice but to wear pajamas—fine by me, since I'm not in the mood to try too hard today. I fix my hair quickly in the mirror, grab my phone, and head out to meet Noel.

3pm

I arrive at Noel's house and knock on the door. It swings open, and Noel stands there looking as rough as I feel.

— Hey, you look like you've been through a blender. — I say, trying to lighten the mood.

Noel chuckles, rubbing his eyes. — Yeah, well, you don't look like a million bucks either. Come on in. —

We settle onto the couch, and I have to admit, it's way more comfortable than my bed. I let out a sigh of relief as I sink into the cushions.

— Do you want to watch something? — Noel asks, looking over at me.