Fix You (Sequel to The Arts)

Chapter 27

Zayn's POV

There was a strong pounding against the side of my head. It was like someone took a baseball bat and showed me no mercy.

The light crawling through the curtains didn't help one fucking bit either.

The curtains danced as a cold breeze drew in from the opened window. The air circled about the room, coiling around my uncovered torso and allowed me to shiver.

"Fuck," I groan, scaring myself a little at the sound of my own voice.

Despite the small light from the far side of the room, it stayed dark and grey. The feeling of suffocation rose in me while I scanned the surroundings of what used to be mine. The bed was gone and replaced with a new treadmill. The cabinet was replaced with a rack of weights. Almost everything was ridden of and taken over by gym equipment. The desk was overturned in the corner though for god knows why.

I try to sit up, shivering miserably and rubbing my arms up and down. I try to let my eyes adjust, but I couldn't see anything clear. All the objects in here seemed to dance to an unknown song whilst the room itself began to spin.

I shut my eyes tightly and press my fingers to my temples.

I get this awful churning feeling in my stomach and groan at the thought of what could've possibly happened last night.

I hear a noise. An uneasy noise, and don't like where this is headed.

Getting up, I sprint to the bathroom in the corner and drop to my knees. I don't feel much, but I know it's not pretty.

Hugging the toilet bowl with my two arms, I drop my head just above as whatever content spill out. The mix of chips and vodka pool together in an unsettling way.

The smell was worse, but I couldn't do anything about that now, could I?

Reaching without looking, I struggle but manage to flush the toilet before crawling away and hitting my back against the wall.

My head starts swinging again and I push myself off the ground, I grab onto whatever I can before I make it to the sink, putting all my weight on the edge of it because I need all the support I can get.

My eyes lift to meet another pair in the glass. The reflection of a rather messy and un-put together dude stares back at me.

Where'd his hair go?

I go to poke it on the mirror, but it just stops before I reach him.

"Oh," I laugh to myself. "It's here," I go to bring my hand to my own and rub my fingertips against the stubble up there.

Can your head have stubble? Or does stubble just apply to your face? Is what I have called a buzzcut then?

Letting out a deep breath, I begin to wonder.

But then my nose scrunches and I feel like I'm going to barf again.

I breathe out again.

"Fuck, ew," I mumble, opening the medicine cabinet and searching for something to rid the foul smell.

"Liceringe... Listening? Lasrgne.. Lasange! No... Listereeeneee...?" I attempt to read the label to the mouth wash. I take a good and long hard look at it before just shrugging it off.

I bring the bottle to my lips and swish the liquid in my mouth before spitting it out then taking some more.

I think I spit it out a few seconds early though because the door slams downstairs.

I suddenly feel the energy I needed race through my body.

I try screwing the cap on as fast as I was able to before running back to the other room.