Where am I, and who are you?

Schlatt's POV:

My brain was pounding on the inside of my skull. My eyelids seemed to a have a mind of their own, and it told them to stay shut at all costs. On top of that my limbs felt a hundred times heavier than they should, I doubted I could even move.

I forcefully yet slowly opened my eyes and instantly regretted doing so. The mild mid morning sun felt like it was boring holes in my irises.

As I tried to take in my surroundings, yesterday's events slowly started to filter back into my head. I remembered ignoring one too many eviction notices. I remembered leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back. I remembered the dark lights of the bar mixed with the sound of a guitarist and last but not least i remembered copious amounts of drinks.

I let out a tired and guttural groan as I finally started to make out what was around me.

I was in a small and rather chilly  room which was furnished with a twin sized bed (upon which I was laying), an equally small closet and a desk covered in papers and coffee mugs. The shabby window, situated on the other side of the room, was open as a light breeze allowed the curtains to dance around the room.
None of my surroundings were familiar to me.

Fuck. What happened last night?

I propped myself up on the bed, immediately worsening my headache.  Looking down I noticed I was shirtless, but apart from that I did seem to have everything.  Despite the pounding on the inside of my skull I stood up, and rather slowly stumbled over the window. I stuck my head outside and my stomach dropped as I recognized nothing that I saw. I had only been living in Britain for a few months now but I knew where I lived and this looked nothing like it. I couldn't even see the bar from here. Shit.

I let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the thin blanket I slept with, wrapping it around my shoulders and stumbling into the narrow hallway. The living space definitely wasn't in the best condition, there were noticeable yet small amounts of  dirt and dust lining the creaky wooden floorboards. I eventually found myself in one of the smallest kitchens I had ever seen. Below par equipment littered the counters. Past that was an old small couch in front of an old tv and coffee table that seemed to be held together solely by stains.
Where the fuck am I?

I felt a body that seemed to be going at full speed bump into my back. After stumbling forward for a few steps, I turned around to see who in the world was living here.

I was met with one of the most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever seen, mocha brown. They belonged to a rather tall and lanky man. He had a messy head of  hazel hair, half way covered by a beanie. He spoke in a rushed yet melodic voice. ' Hey, Schlatt! You finally woke up! I'm sorry I really gotta go I got a gig in like ten minutes. Feel free to make yourself at home I'll be back in like two hours or so.'
And with that he pushed past  me and out the front door. Before he left he grabbed a guitar and jacket and gave me a lopsided grin.

I stood there absolutely dumbfounded at what just happened. More importantly what happened last night. The only puzzle piece that was filled out by that interaction was that he was the guitarist at the bar last night.

The adorably handsome guitarist had brought me home.huh.

I knew I quite literally had no where else to go so I started to explore the dingy apartment. First thing I did was go back to the room I woke up in and pulled a random shirt out the closet. I knew it was being a bit nosey and forward of me but I wasn't going to spend my entire time here shirtless. (Or so I thought.)

I then walked around to find only one more room, the bathroom. So in total it was a three room apartment, and was made up of a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen that doubled as a living room.

I let out a sigh and let my mind contemplate what the fuck I was gonna do after this. It's not like I can live here, right?