𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋, jschlatt

𝔦𝔵. no balls

𝔫𝔬 𝔟𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰

                "VERA, MOVE. I need to wee."

For the second time within the last twelve hours, Vera found herself hunched over the toilet, spewing out the remains of last night's story. Although this time, there was no comforting James Charles to baby her as she sicked up ━ instead, only a moody and hungover Wilbur lingered. Groaning a quiet 'sod off', Vera found herself reminiscing over whatever happened the night before.

Being perfectly honest, the memory she had of last night was a vague blur, and really, she couldn't blame herself. Chunks of it were missing, such as whatever happened in the toilets with James. Vera was sure she had said something mildly important, but hey, if she couldn't remember then it couldn't have been that important. Despite the fact she should have probably been dying in the hospital judging by how much she drank, Vera could still remember every single damn regretful encounter she had with Schlatt. That was the entire reason she'd got pissed off her face to begin with!

"I'm not fucking joking here, Vera. I will literally piss on your head if you don't move."

"How bloody charming," she uttered as she gingerly made her escape.

She greeted Adam's living room with a soft mewl as sunlight bit viciously through the window ━ what kind of psychopath had their curtains open at this time of morning? ━ only making Vera want to recoil back into her fetal position on Adam's tattered sofa. A grim pounded seethed through her head and she slumped against the dusty mirror that hung on the wall. Vera didn't dare look at herself as frankly, she just knew how dreadful she must've appeared. Besides, the I-told-you-so's that she guaranteed Wilbur would shoot at her later were enough to stop her looking.