𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, ph.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀𝐯. i definitely don't like rome.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐯. —— i definitely don't like rome.

— i —

Pick woke up with a pounding headache and very vague memories of last night; the most vivid one being Porsche acting like a bitch baby and crying throughout the evening. Well, it's not like Pick didn't know that his best friend is a whiny kind of drunk, this was something he could handle and that's why he always made sure that Porsche didn't get drunk when Pick wasn't there with him—it was easier to avoid problems that way.

Pick wiped his face with hands and sighed loudly, slowly sitting up and looking around. His gaze fell on a small bundle on the bottom edge of the bed, he'd think it's just a pile of clothes if not for the fact that said pile was breathing steadily. Rome was curled up as far away from Pick as he could get without having to sleep on the floor, with the hood pulled over his head and arms hugging knees. Pick moved a little closer and he could hear Rome muttering something in his sleep, the senior instinctively touched Rome's forehead with the back of one hand, touching his own with the other to compare it; the shorty had a fever again. Pick stretched his arms out and then stood up from the bed, taking the covers and slowly putting it over Rome. God, Pick needed water.

"P'Pick," Rome muttered so suddenly that Pick almost jumped. Almost. He looked back to the kid, Rome's eyes were still closed. "Emma bought the pills for me yesterday, they're in my suitcase. You can take some if you have a headache. And give some to P'Porsche when he wakes up," the boy offered just when Pick thought he's still sleeptalking.

"Oh, thank god," Pick sighed, dragging his feet to the suitcase in the corner of the room. "Did she buy any cold medicine?"

Rome grunted something before answering more clearly. "Why? Do you have a cold?"

"Jesus, you're so dumb," Pick huffed. He took out the headache pills but couldn't see anything for cold; Emma probably didn't think that Rome will actually get sick. "I wanted to go buy something cold to drink anyway. Shorty, you want anything?" he asked, turning around.

"For you to stop calling me that," Rome forced out, moving a little up on the bed to get more comfortable.

Pick snorted. "There's a pecking order, no can do. Porsche, you good for nothing, I'm going to the store," he said louder, pushing at Porsche's arm to wake him up. "Want me to buy you something? A bottle of wine? Condoms?"

"My will to live," Porsche mumbled with difficulty, putting a pillow over his head. Rome laughed and Pick rolled his eyes, these two were equally terrible right now.

"If I manage to find mine I'll think about yours, too," Pick promised, ruffling Porsche's hair. He took his wallet from the drawer and walked towards the doors, completely ignoring the fact that he still had yesterday's clothes on. But then he stopped in the doorway, turning back towards Rome. "Buttercup, did I do anything weird last night? I don't remember."

Something quickly passed across Rome's face, it made Pick raise an eyebrow but it was too fast for him to decipher it. He wouldn't even try, his head was way too heavy right now. But then Rome softly shook his head, dragging the covers up to his chin.

"No, P', you fell asleep almost as soon as I came back from talking to my teacher," Rome answered eventually.

Pick didn't quite believe him, but... well, maybe he didn't want to know after all. 

— ii —

"You're taking really good care of him."

Pick got startled and almost lost his grip on the water bottle. He looked to his side to see Porsche sitting down next to him on one of the benches; it was so visible that Porsche got drunk last night that it would probably be funny if it wasn't so pitiful at the same time. Poking fun at Porsche wasn't even amusing anymore, this boy was just a walking disaster.