Asher King's life has revolved around putting up an involuntary mask to hide his true self. With successful parents boasting about his 'pretend' success, Asher feels as though the life he is living was never his to begin with, and a home of happines...
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There's nothing better than waking up from a peaceful dream and running to the bathroom as you try to stop yourself from projectile vomiting on everything.
Note the sarcasm.
My throat burns as I continue puking up the insane amount of alcohol I consumed last night. My whole body lurches forward each time a new wave of nausea hits, and it's doing nothing to help my splitting migraine. It feels like my stomach is ripping itself apart from the inside.
My hangover must've sensitized me to everything around me because the overhead lights feel like they are burning into my soul.
I firmly grip the toilet bowl as I sputter the last remains of bile before flushing the toilet. I close my eyes and slump down against the bathtub.
God, I'm never drinking again.
Don't get me wrong, the party was a blast, but I don't remember about half of it. I should've known that hanging out with Sawyer would get me completely wasted, especially when neither of us has a good tolerance.
I know I woke up next to Leo this morning, but I can't tell you how or when I got there. I feel kind of bad because he didn't really want to go in the first place and just ended up dealing with his uber-drunk boyfriend. I'll apologize when I get the chance, but I don't want to do anything but continue resting my body against the cool porcelain of Leo's bathtub while my body screams in absolute terror.
I hear the patter of light footsteps come near. His delicate touch traces along my arm as I feel his warm presence come closer and closer.
"Hey, you doing okay?" Leo whispers, soothingly dragging his fingers through my messy hair.
"N-No," I whine, my throat dry like sandpaper.
My boyfriend softly rubs his hands over my body, gently taking care of me and supporting me with his touch.
I assume that he was the one taking care of me last night, and here he is taking care of me once again. But then again, I would absolutely do the same for him. I think I'm at the point in our relationship where I shouldn't feel guilty about confiding in him for help, even if it's something as stupid as drinking too much.
Still, I feel a tad bit guilty.
"I'm sorry f-for waking you up," I croak.
"It's okay," he assures, his hand trailing along my collarbone. "I wake you up sometimes too. It's no biggie." He kisses me right over one of my eyelids.
I sigh in bliss. Even if my stomach is screaming at me, or my throat tastes like acid, or I want to rip my eyeballs out, I love my boyfriend so much, and there is nothing that he can't make better.
"How are you feeling?" he says gently.
I still don't open my eyes, but I can envision his beautiful blue irises looking at me patiently.
