Gracious

Chapter 22

A/N - took a while but I'm back 🫡

TW: potentially upsetting scenes towards the end, and brief mentions of suicide

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Last night was a bad fucking idea.

Sure, it wasn't like I had school or anything the next day, but my brothers did. My head felt like it'd been slammed against a wall, the room was still spinning slightly and I was physically desperate for a glass- or a gallon of water.

My bathroom was so close, yet so far.

I groaned, rolling onto my side and throwing my arm over...a lump under my covers.

Brunette, muscles, shirtless, asleep- you fucking idiot Zane.

"Shit", I hissed, lifting the duvet and groaning again; forcing myself to try and remember what had happened last night.

A cab back from the club, more shots in the kitchen, shower sex- and more sex, by the looks of it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck- he couldn't be here right now.

He shouldn't be here right now.

With a little apprehension, I tapped the guy- I think his name was Cyprus, on the shoulder and he didn't even move. He wasn't dead right? I slapped him harder this time and he groaned, I propped myself up on my shoulder and watched as he turned to face me at an excruciatingly slow pace; wincing at the light in the bedroom. I needed to invest in blackout curtains.

"Hey", he gave me a lazy smile and I returned it, mine definitely looking a lot more awkward, "I had fun last night".

The boys would be up any minute now.

"Me too", I told him, my mouth dry as the thought of water filled my mind again, "you need to go". I winced at how snappy that was, especially when he raised his eyebrows in shock.

"Okay...", he said slowly, lifting the duvet off of himself and rummaging around for his clothes- I swear to god if one of them walked in while he was naked...

"It's not you", I was quick to say, "I just- I need to take my brothers to school and-".

"It's fine Zane, really", he remembered my name? I watched as he pulled on his trousers, as well as his discarded t-shirt from last night, before deciding I should probably put some clothes on too. Pulling on a pair of shorts and tugging a sweater over my head I gave him an awkward smile, proceeding to order him a cab home and insist on walking him to the door.

"You'll call?", he asked hopefully and my stomach churned, whether it was the hangover or the fear of commitment, I'd never know. Grabbing a business card from the small table beside the front door I nodded firmly, handing it to him and opening the door.

"I'll call", I wouldn't, "thanks...Cyprus".

"Cyrus", he corrected with a weak smile and I winced- fucking idiot, "later Zane". I closed the door softly behind him and pressed my forehead against the cold wood, letting out a slow exhale and cursing myself for the absolute shitshow of the past twelve hours.

"Who was that?", and apparently it could only get worse.

I lifted my head, peering over my shoulder and looking at Prescott, he was leaning against the stair railing with his arms folded and eyebrows raised; how he was already fully dressed at seven in the morning, I didn't know.

"Who was who?", I tried to play it dumb, knowing full well that there was no point. I turned fully, heading towards the kitchen and filling a glass of water at the sink in record time, feeling my seventeen year old brother's presence behind me.