Before my eyes had even attempted to part themselves, the dull thud inside my head made me feel instantly sick. Groaning quietly, I rolled over slightly, but was stopped by something on the other side of me. At first, I assumed it was the pile of clothes, that I had yet to put away, lounging casually on the corner of my bed. When, I tried to push them away, however, they stayed put.
Exhaling sharply, I pivoted my head to see what the hold up was. As my eyes gradually opened, my brain kicked into high gear.
Where was my phone?
And why were my sheets black instead of lavender?
...and who was snoring?
The inside of my mouth dried more so than it already was. The reason I couldn't move was because there was an arm draped around me. Next to me, Michael was still fast asleep, his lips parted slightly as he continued snoring lightly. The sight, though usually adorable, made my stomach drop. In an effort to make my presence scarce, I scrambled to get out of the bed without waking him. How close I was to the edge, I found, had been miscalculated as I fell backwards off the edge and crashed into the wood floor, missing the nightstand by inches.
An involuntary scream escaped as my body collided with the hard surface. The previous thud in my head was now a full blown throb that felt as if my brain was trying to pry itself out of the confines of my skull.
Above me, the sheets rustled and Michael grunted sleepily. I heard him sniffle before the bed springs squeaked softly. In seconds, Michael was leaning over the side of the mattress, strands of his milky white hair sticking out in all directions and his chest bare.
Rubbing his eyes, one side of his mouth turned up into a lazy smile.
"Hey, babycakes. Is this usually how you get out of bed in the mornings?" The nickname, just like every thing else from that morning, made me uneasy.
Not wanting things to be awkward this early on in the day, I tried to laugh. The sound that came out sounded foreign and robotic to me, but Michael didn't seem to notice a difference.
Pushing my hair out of my face, I struggled to stand, finally doing so after stumbling forward a few times. I skimmed my eyes around the room, thankful that the curtains were still drawn so that the sun couldn't debilitate me more than the fall already had. On the floor, I saw pair after pair of dark skinny jeans, and in my everlasting state of confusion, I couldn't decipher my pants from his.
He watched me for a bit while I turned my attention to pair after pair of jeans before rolling out of bed and, without much thought at all, grabbed one and handed it to me.
They were actually mine.
I took them from him and jumped into them. As we stood in silence, I searched for something to say, but through my persistent perplexity and guilt, nothing surfaced. Instead of words, I waved my hand impersonally and headed out of the bedroom.
When I exited the hall, I was immediately thrown off by the brightness of the living room. It was fully lit since Michael didn't have any curtains shielding the balcony windows.
Squinting, I found myself searching once again for my possessions. This time, my shoes were my object of interest. While I played detective around the living room, Michael wandered off into the kitchen. He returned just as I was pulling my second sneaker from underneath the table. He strolled over with a Captain America glass in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.
I plopped down on the couch to tie my shoes, and he put the water down in front of me along with two blue tablets.
"Pain killers. Figured you would need them."
With a sigh, I nodded and slid the pills off the table and into my mouth. Once they were down, I, without so much as a word of thanks, set my sights on the front door.
When he noticed where I was going, Michael was right behind me. He gently caught my wrist and turned me around.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Look, I think we need to talk about..." He trailed off, cheeks tinting, as he tried to find the right phrase to say. "Last night."
I chuckled for moment, but stopped when the action caused an unwanted reaction in my head.
"Mikey, I think we both know what happened last night."
He shrugged and leaned a shoulder against the door.
"I mean...i feel like I should explain myself. So that there isn't any confusion, i guess."
I nodded slowly, and crossed my arms.
"Yeah, that makes sense."
