Someone Will Remember Us

Puzzle Pieces

Chapter Seven

I wake up to the feeling of Charlie being pressed against my back.

I'm kind of laying on my side and on my stomach at the same time. Charlie's arms are wrapped around my middle, his body practically laying on top of me and squashing me into the bed while his head is resting on the back of my shoulder.

I can't breathe.

I roll my shoulder back to try to shake him off but he grunts in protest and holds me even tighter.

If he wasn't my friend, I would have already punched him in about seven different ways.

My memory of last night resembles a puzzle, I have all the pieces (most of them anyways) but it may take some time for me to put them together to get the whole picture.

I remember the game last night, that's the only thing I'm one hundred per cent sure of, we won the game.

I briefly remember winking at Justin as he stood up from the bench and I watched him drag his sorry ass back to the locker room. Then I think I remember Diego and me picking Charlie up and carrying him on our shoulders.

Charlie snuggles his nose further into my shoulder and my heart drops. I've only ever let Winston do that before...I really don't want to think about him and what I did.

The other team were pissed off at us for losing. I recall a tall lanky guy with hair tied into a high ponytail coming up to me after the game. He called me a fag even though he looked more like one than I did. I could fucking snap him in half if they had let me.

But Diego wouldn't let go of my arm and Scott was already rushing from the bleachers to stand between me and ponytail man.

They could have at least let me punch the fucking bastard, that would show him how fucking gay I am.

I don't realise how tense my shoulders have gotten until I feel Charlie's forehead brush past them again. I should really push him off of me now.

At first, I have no idea where I am, but once I manage to wiggle out of Charlie's grasp, I sit up and I realise that we're in Charlie's bedroom. And I'm in Charlie's bed.

We're all wearing the clothes we wore to the party last night but I can't find my varsity jacket. Fuck, if I lost the new one...

I look around the room, Scott is curled up on an armchair standing opposite the bed, a blue varsity jacket covering his shoulders like a blanket. Looking at him reminds me that he vomited last night, he said he couldn't go home looking this wasted and Charlie offered to let him sleep over. And then I just tagged along because why not.

Diego didn't come with us, pretty sure he had his eye on one of the girls that invited us to the party in the first place.

I get off the bed trying my best not to wake Charlie up.

I have to tiptoe past the empty and maybe not empty beer cans as I walk to Scott.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and my hair looks like a mess. It's all over the place and I raise my hands to try to smooth it back into place.

It doesn't work and I give up and let my hair do whatever it wants.

I bend forward to grab my jacket from Scott, I know it's mine because it looks new. But as soon as I pick it up, I notice that the jacket sleeve has some dried up vomit on it and I drop it back onto Scott's body.

And that's another jacket ruined.

The sleeve touches his face and he begins to stir. "What time is it," he asks in a raspy voice and he starts to stretch, moving to lay down on his back instead.