Jacksepticeye Imagines

What Did I Do Last Night

Word count: 801
The title is because Bo Burnham is stuck in my head

Sunlight peeked through a crack in the curtains, casting a strip of light onto your body. You opened your heavy eyelids that fought against your will to wake up. They almost succeeded, too, as you started to drift back to sleep. Suddenly, your eyes shot open.

You sat up and scanned the room. Where am I, you thought as your heart beat faster and faster. You heard a distant clatter, and got out of the unfamiliar bed. Your head pounded as you stood up, and it dawned on you that you might have had a hang over. There was a glass of water on the night stand. You took a sip and put it back down. Then, you caught a glimpse of your clothes. Well, they weren't your clothes at all. You had on a baggy t-shirt with a band on the front and sweatpants that actually fit, but they weren't yours anyway.

You groggily left the room, directing your feet to walk towards the noise. You ended up in a kitchen. You saw a man humming as he cooked what smelled like sausage. You were trying to think of what to say, but when he turned to grab salt, he saw you anyway. He awkwardly stood still for a moment.

"Good morning," he said. You still didn't have any of the right words. "You feeling alright? You were piss drunk last night," he giggled. His smile and the sound of his soft laugh made you smile.

You replied, "headache."

He nodded maneuvered around you to get to the medicine cabinet, and gave you a pill. You were hesitant to take it, but you recognized the drug's name and swallowed it. You flicked your eyes upward to meet his gaze and found yourself blushing. After an awkward few seconds, you spoke up in a quiet voice. "I have to admit. . . I don't remember anything."

"Ah, of course. I didn't expect you to, as drunk as you were," he shrugged.

Your face somehow turned even more red and your ears burned. He seemed to notice and also blushed. "No! No, I- nothing happened! Between us, I mean," he said frantically.

"Basically, um, at the bar last night, I overheard this guy trying to talk you into going home with him. Heard you say no to him so many times, and he just laughed it off and bought you more drinks. Couldn't just ignore that. He was acting like such a creep. I intervened and acted like a knew you, and he eventually went away. I was gonna take you home, but you weren't making any sense, so I couldn't get you to answer any questions. You didn't have a phone with you either, so I couldn't call any of your contacts. We stayed there for a while but I ended up bringing you here," he looked down at his clothes on you. "You threw up all over yourself, so that's why you're wearing mine. I washed your clothes, by the way." He gestured to your folded clothes on the table.

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth. You decided you could trust a stranger just this one time and mumbled, "thank you for. . . everything." He smiled and waved it off.

There was another awkward silence. "So uh, do you wanna watch TV?" he asked. You nodded and followed him to his couch. You sat on the opposite side as he picked a channel. He paused and asked timidly, "do you mind cartoons?"

"Go ahead," you giggled.

He exhaled in relief and turned on Steven Universe. You'd only seen it once before, but he was glad to see that you enjoyed it. After a few episodes, you stood up. "I should be going home now."

He stood up too. "Yeah." He looked a little sad that you were going. You didn't really want to go either, but you left your phone at your apartment, and your flatmate would be worried if you didn't return soon. You took your clothes into the bathroom and changed into them before you left.

He held the door open for you as you walked out into the cool autumn air. "Stay safe," he said in a low but soft voice. You turned to look at him.

"Hey, can I. . . get your number?" you asked, biting your lip in nervousness. Much to your relief, his face lifted and he leaned against the door frame.

"Well, since you don't have your phone, how about I get your number?" He wore a playful smirk as he fished his phone out of his pocket. You tilted your head down bashfully as you recited your phone number. He typed it in and slid his phone back in his pocket. "I'll call you later."