Deal With It ✓

Eight: Exhausted

Song: Some Feeling // Mild Orange 

Thank you guys for the views! I hope you've enjoyed the past chapters <3

IMPORTANT: Don't forget to check out chapter 7 in case you haven't.

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The next morning, noise from downstairs had drifted upstairs and infiltrated the silence in my room that I've grown comfortable with. As soon as I had sulked up to my room last night, I put my head on my pillow and slept fifteen minutes after suppressing my thoughts in an effort to stop my brain from going into overdrive.

I woke up with a migraine. I felt it in the back of my head, my temples, and my eyes and sinuses. All I wanted to do was swallow some painkillers and go back to sleep, but I couldn't, and that was because I could hear Amber and Nick throwing a party downstairs. Groaning at the thought of leaving my bed, I ripped the blanket from around my body and put on a pair of sweatpants.

I tugged the curtains open and tightly shut my eyes when the sun shone brightly through the window. Feeling my migraine intensify at the music from downstairs and the sun's glare, I shielded my eyes with my hand, using it to rub my forehead to try and ease my headache. It didn't do anything. I threw open the bedroom door and trudged towards the stairs, grumbling about how inconsiderate people could be towards those who were still asleep. They might as well have started vacuuming the floors of my own room.

Walking down the stairs, I screwed my eyes shut when the music got louder as if that would lower the volume and ease the headache. Party Rock Anthem was blaring loudly from the record player that was now sitting on the counter in the kitchen. I felt myself scowl at the fact that they had used my collection of vinyls and the turntable without my permission. I didn't even have control over my possessions now.

There was an area in the hallway where you could stand and look into the kitchen but no one would notice you unless they were paying attention to their surroundings. I stopped there and watched as three figures danced and glided to the beat inside the kitchen. Amber was shaking her head to the beat and jumping from side to side with a wooden spoon coated with what looked like pancake batter, her unbrushed hair bounced with her movements and occasionally stuck to the wet spoon. Nick was in the center of the kitchen, showing off his dancing skills, or lack thereof, he was shuffling while spinning around in a circle, occasionally joining Amber in singing the lyrics.

Then there was Rose. I don't know when she arrived, maybe she got here last night because Amber might've texted her, or maybe she dropped by this morning for a visit. She had an apron tied around her figure, her curls pulled back from her face by a bandana with floral patterns, and a sky blue t-shirt dress adorned her body, falling down to just above her knees. She was grilling some sausages in a pan while bopping her head to the rhythm of the upbeat song.

I forced myself to look away and my eyes fell upon the counter once again, but this time I noticed the food that was spread across it. Pancakes, both golden and burnt (I could tell Nick and Amber worked on them), were stacked atop each other, scrambled eggs were mountained on an oval platter, and three bottles with different juices sat on the edge of the counter, a pot of coffee joining them. The smell of the roasting sausages overwhelmed my sense of smell, and although they smelled really good, I felt my migraine intensify at the spicy and smoky aroma.

A soft groan escaped my lips when I felt my brain pounding against my skull which caused everyone to pause mid-dance and peer out the kitchen area to look over in my direction. As soon as Nick had taken in my disheveled, sick state, he let out a laugh.