KISS: Casablanca High School

Ch 19: The Aftermath (Peter)

Sunlight streamed through the window and I yawned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Ace was still asleep on my legs and I smiled, leaning over. "Hey, Space Ace, wake up," I murmured. His eyes cracked open and he grinned up at me. "Morning, curly. What time is it?" "Time for you to get off my legs because they're going numb."

Stifling his laughter, he sat next to me on the floor, leaning against my shoulder. After a pause, he looked over at the couch where Eric was still snoring softly, clutching a red solo cup tightly to his chest. "You think we should wake him up and get breakfast going?"

I slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. "Shh...let him sleep. He's a tired little baby. Besides, I'm pretty sure he outran the police last night or something. I dunno, it's kinda blurry. And I'm not done with you, Spacey," I purred, running a hand through his hair and planting a warm kiss on his cheek. He giggled, snuggling closer to me and pressing his forehead against mine. "No you are not," he murmured, pulling me deep into an embrace. I felt his soft lips pressed up against mine, his hand running up my back as he drew me closer.

"I'm just gonna let you two go at it," Eric mumbled, shuffling off to the kitchen. We sprang apart as if we had been caught doing something we should've have, despite him having basically been the one to hook us up.

"I told you not to wake him up!" I said, but Ace only gave me a smile, patting my cheek. "Shut up, curly. I'm gonna go help him with breakfast and you're gonna come with me," he said, leaping to his feet. "And if I don't?" I teased. "Then I'm gonna dump you!"

With a grin, I followed him to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of orange juice as Eric and Ace began to assemble something that kinda looked like an edible meal.

"Hey curly, why don't you go see how Gene and Paul are doing? Make sure they survived and whatnot," Ace called over his shoulder, busy rummaging through my pantry. "Yeah alright. Help yourself to anything you can find." "Not much to find, man," Eric said with a grin. "Aw shut up."

Humming to myself, I flung open the door to my room and froze. Gene was sprawled out on the floor while Paul had made an absolute mess of my bed.

"Paul! Are you serious?" I roared. Paul bolted upright, wincing and clutching his head. "W-what? Oh damn I'm sorry!" he said, pulling off his shirt and trying to clean up. "You threw up! On my bed!"

"I said I was sorry! Stop yelling!" he cried, grabbing his temples with a look of agony spasming across his face.

"Well maybe if you hadn't gotten so drunk this wouldn't have been an issue!" I said pointedly. Gene let out a yawn and sat up, blinking blearily at me. "Aw, cut him some slack Pete. He didn't know what he was doing," he mumbled.

I knew he was right, but another look at my bed sent another wave of anger bubbling through me. "Stay out of it, Simmons. Paul should've stopped drinking long before he got blackout drunk, especially for his first time!"

"I'm sorry! You know I've never done that before, I didn't know how much I could handle! Can you please stop yelling? It's giving me a headache," he moaned, screwing his eyes shut.

"Maybe if you had both your ears you would've been able to hear people telling you to stop!"

I clapped a hand over my mouth as soon as the words were out, but it was too late to take them back. Paul recoiled as if he had been slapped, face going from red to white. "Paul wait--" I began, but he shoved past me, stumbling out of the room in nothing but a pair of still soaking jeans. I heard the door to my apartment open then slam shut, and I let out a sigh. Gene scowled at me. "You really had to go there?" he growled. "I didn't mean to?"

He staggered to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "Go get him before he falls down the stairs and hurts himself."

Biting back a curse, I walked past Eric, who gave me a confused look, and followed Paul out the door. "Paul? Where'd you go?" I called, not exactly surprised I didn't get an answer. "Come on Paul, I didn't mean it like that!"

Running a hand along the cold railing, I peered over the edge of walkway, scanning the stairs below. Nothing. Alright, if not down, then up.

I heard the angry sniffling before I saw him. Paul was sprawled out at the foot of a flight of concrete stairs, hole torn in his jeans and blood on his scraped palms. His eyes narrowed as he saw me. "What the hell do you want?" he spat, pushing himself upright. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that," I said softly, helping him to his feet. Hands shaking, he wiped the blood from his lip and scowled, stumbling over to the railing. "Sure you didn't. It's whatever though."

"Look man, I'm sorry, I lost my temper. No hard feelings for what you did, I did the same thing when I started out too," I said, extending a hand. A wry smile spread across Paul's face and he accepted the handshake, still wincing. "I'll get you new sheets or whatever you need. Sorry about that." "Eh, I'll just throw them in the wash downstairs. You should go get something to drink man, you're hella hungover." "Yeah...I think I might be," he mumbled. "Oh trust me, there's no "might be." You're gonna have quite the headache."

He sat at the table nursing a glass of ice water with a miserable look on my face. "Man, my parents are gonna kill me if I come home hungover." 

"Just make sure they don't see this and you'll be fine I'm sure," Eric said, sliding his phone across the table. 

I gotta admit, watching the video of Paul leaping off the roof made me kinda sad I had been inside all night.