Confession

Hurt

⚠️TW/CW: MEDICAL TALK AND SEMI GRAPHIC DETAILS ABOUT SAID MEDICAL TALK⚠️

Last night was fuzzy. I feel fuzzy. Maybe because I had been throwing up all night. It could also be because I could hear Knife and Pickle... connecting, all night. I don't want to move. He's probably forgotten about it already. What if it never happened? Did I imagine the entire kiss? Did I even kiss him? What if it was someone else and my brain just imagined it was him?!

Paper sat up, maybe a little too fast because his head immediately felt like it was melting and being stabbed by multiple forks. He had experienced hangovers before but nothing like this. The room was blurry and everything was- ok wait he should probably put his glasses on. Describing a scene without proper vision would discredit his years of being a writer, even if he never shared any of his work. After popping on his glasses the room was much clearer, still felt a little... wavey? What use is sitting there and looking around a room doing anyways? He needed some water and something to eat.

After dragging himself out of bed Paper steps out of his room and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, only needing to stop once to dry heave. He felt like shit, but he could smell something sweet coming from the kitchen. It was probably Soap preparing breakfast. He stumbles in. OJ was at the stove. He seemed to be in one of his stressed "take care of everyone" states. It was adorable watching him carefully prepare the food. He decides to go ahead and sit down while OJ hogs the stove. He was making pancakes on three pans and had a pot boiling something, probably eggs. He was watching each pan intensely, he probably didn't even notice Paper walk in.

"Good morning." Paper finally decided to say. OJ looked over at him, a little surprised. Paper tensed up a bit, memories of last night must have come back to both of them at that moment. The room became thick. They didn't know if the other remembered, or if the other enjoyed it.

"Morning Paper. How are you feeling?" OJ asks after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Kinda terrible. I drank to much last night." Paper lets out a soft laugh. OJ turns back to the food.

"That sucks, I'm making a big breakfast for everyone. Well, anyone who hasn't eaten yet. Would you like some?" He asks. Paper nods. The room falls silent again. The two of them are too afraid to bring anything up. That was until Pickle and Knife walk in. Well, Pickle walked in. Knife more shuffled in.

"Morning you two." Pickle said, he looked tired but he didn't act like it. He jumped over to OJ and peeked over his shoulder. The two of them started a conversation. Knife comes over to Paper and stands next to him.

"So, did you ask OJ out?" Knife asks, his voice hushed. Paper groans.

"No, I was pretty wasted last night. He probably thinks I was just drunkenly and horny-ly hitting on him. I'm just not gonna bring it up!" Paper covers his face. Knife pats his back.

"Hey hey! Don't stress over it, OJ is probably in the same boat as you. Just give it a day and you two will probably end up like me and Pickle." Knife comforts. Paper sinks into his chair. He didn't want to wait for things to mellow out, he wanted to run over to him and sweep him off his feet. Take him to a beautiful cabin in the woods where they can live happily with their 3 dogs and 2 cats named Skippy, Chewy, Mr. Woof, Jet, and Laser. And have a garden where they grow fresh vegetables and sell them at the local farmer's market... Okay that came out of nowhere.

"Knife, can I ask you something?" Paper turns and looks up at him. Knife nods. "Think you can be quieter next time?"

"And I've officially hit my 'interacting with people' quota for the entire month. I'll be in my room of you need me." Knife blushes and walks out the room. Pickle looks back at him. He watched dreamily as Knife makes his way up the stairs.