Partnered Up☕︎

#21 The crick in my neck feels better then my knotted 'up' throat.

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#21 The crick in my neck feels better then my knotted 'up' throat.
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Fay

     Neck cricks. Those horrible, excruciating, agonizing, aggravating, and abhorrent, little demonic feens that get stuck in your neck. I could honestly say much more about them, but I'm sure you get the point. I am experiencing a very terrible one at this very moment. Opening my eyes, I realize, that I am still on the sofa. Still sitting up straight, and still have an unconscious Eli in the crock of my neck.

"Oh. My. Extraterrestrial. Cheese. Balls."

I think I'm gonna be diagnosed with pneumonia.

Slowly, I turn over to see the sleeping neck breaker. His eyelashes are longer than the flipping savanna and I can notice some cute little freckles painted across his rosy cheeks. Seriously, how does this boy have such long eyelashes? It's just not fair.

Maybe because I moved my head, his chest raises and fills with air; he lets out a small yawn.

Yup. I'm defiantly gonna hyperventilate in a minute.

Slowly, once more, I move his head out of the crock of my neck, and attempt to place it on a pillow gently.

But instead, he flings back like he's been blessed with Jason Bourne's own reflexes and falls off the sofa, on the floor.

"Whaa? What just happened?" He yawns, scratching his head, and looking around groggily. His face is plastered with confusion, he seems to be in a lot of pain, since he's rubbing his head and butt, particularly his bottom more.

I gulp. What am I supposed to say?

Oh um, you came home drunk out for your blistering mind, and acted the extract opposite of how you usually do, also fell asleep on my shoulder; giving me a burdensome crick in my neck.

"I was hoping you could tell me?" I ask, or state. I'm not really sure at this point. He looks up at me squinting, and the looks back down at the floor innocently.

"Well, all I remember is going out last night, and that's about it," He states, slowing getting on to the sofa once more, rubbing his head. "Dammit, my head feels like it's gonna pop off my shoulders, and I've got a crick in my neck," Whining, he looks around the room a bit irritatedly.

He's got a crick in his neck? Aw I wonder why? Poor baby. Not.

"So, you don't remember anything from last night?" I ask, still curious.

"No, nothing else." His face then pales. "Why? Did I do something? Crap what did I do?" He sighs, running his hands threw his messy bed head, looking at me worriedly.

I almost wanna keep this up just to punish him for the neck issues, but, I'm a nice person.

"Nope. Nothing that I know of. I just found you here asleep on the couch, and your head was bent, so I tried to fix it, although you slung back like I was gonna attack you," I lie, and I can feel the burning of guilt eat my insides.
I hate lies.

His face calms, and he looks at me "Sorry about that, I'm a light sleeper." Yawning, he lays on the sofa, resting his head on the pillow.

If you only knew! Light sleeper my buttocks! Haha, that is a funny word.

"Is it bad I feel like strangling him?"

"It's no big deal," I mumble, "Where were you last night?"