Don't Come Back For Me

Strange Encounters.

       "Jesus fucked my pony Christ." Sitting up, you held a hand to your head. It was absolutely throbbing. Your entire body ached and you wondered why. When the memory and realization hit, you groaned and laid back once again. "Lost in the sauce again, idiot."

       Looking around, you realized you were not in your room, nor your apartment. Instead, you were in a dimly lit room, a curtain blocking any light from entering said room. There was a form slumped over on the other side of the room, snoring lightly. You removed the blanket lying over you, cold air rushing over your bare chest. You were in your boxers, surprising after last night.

       The room was too pink, too bright. There was a sudden wave of realization as you looked around. This is Summer's room.

       The figure in the corner groaned lightly, mumbling something unintelligible before they sat up, slowly standing. They held one hand to the side of their head, using the other to keep them up on the wall. There was no way it was Jack. He had woken you in the middle of the night when he'd crept out of the room, making you smile because it meant you wouldn't have to be the one to run.

       Moving slowly, the earth beneath your feet spinning wildly, you wandered over to the curtains, opening them and hissing in pain. The light absolutely killed you.

That's it guys, end of story. Death by extreme hangover.

       The figure on the other side of the room yelled out, covering their eyes. "Huh..." Your voice was lower, not ready for talking yet, but there. "Why hello there." Rick was standing up, his eyes still shielded from the light. He peered over at you, slowly lowering his hands. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes. Looking around the room, ignoring the seemingly upset gentleman standing off to the side, you gathered your clothing, slipping back into it and cracking your neck.

       You knew you had a funny walk, and anybody that saw it would know what was up. You wandered back over to the bed, your entire body still sore. Jack had preferred to be rough, something that had not gone unnoticed by you. Stretching your legs, you leaned down and grabbed your phone before awkwardly remaking Summer's bed, not knowing if she preferred it that way or not.

       You had a notification on your phone. Clicking on it, you saw it was a text.

*UNKNOWN*
Hey, (Y/N), it's Jack. Just letting you know I got your number.

       "Shhhhhit." You tossed your head back, "He has my numberrrr." You whined, looking back down. "Why the fuck does he have my number-er-er?" You continued whining, letting your phone fall to the ground.

       "Don't eugh reply. Not like he has your address." Rick grumbled as he walked towards the door, slowly pulling it open. When he walked out, you grabbed your phone before following, noticing that the text had been sent a few hours before you woke up. Maybe, if I wait a little longer, I'll know if he actually wants to keep in touch. If I don't reply, and he doesn't send another, I'm good.

        With a heavily frustrated groan, you stepped out of the room, deciding to use the restroom before doing anything else. Your bladder had been screaming obscenities at you all morning.

       After relieving yourself and washing your hands and face, you sauntered downstairs to find a lovely mess. Cups were everywhere, drinks spilled, food on the ground, and, for some reason, a full damn outfit was scattered in a corner. Shoes and everything, too. "Noooooice."

      Morty was walking around, anxiously picking things up and muttering to himself. He paused momentarily, "You c-c-can get br-breakfast. He-Help yourself." You wandered towards the kitchen, muttering 'don't mind if I didgeri-dooooo'.