It's Just Pretend, Right? (Cryle)

Chapter 11 ||| mess

[KYLES POV]

I felt my entire body aching as the rays of harsh sunlight evaded the room. I groaned and put my arm over my eyes, shielding them from the light. My pounding headache made me feel so bad that I wanted to vomit. 

"Morning Broflovski." I heard a familiar monotonous voice ask. I didn't respond, still laying down with my arm over my eyes. This is what Stan felt like every time he was hungover? Now I have a lot more empathy.

I felt someone pick me up and drag me out of the bed, to which I whined. 

"raaahhhhh.." I croaked, not able to find any words. Craig raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I'm not a furry. What was that?" He asked playfully. I squirmed around in his arms, finally taking my arm off of my eyes. He was looking down at me with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. This motherfucker.

"Fuck off.." I groaned, trying to roll out of his arms. He didn't let me, and instead pulled me closer to him.

"You're hungover. Want some painkillers?" Craig offered. I heard him shake a bottle in his hands. My face lit up, showing visibly that my answer was a yes.

"So excited for some drugs huh?" He asked playfully. I rolled my eyes and nodded. Hell, even rolling my eyes hurt. 

He put me down on my feet yet still held me close to him. He twisted the bottle open and dropped two pills into my hands. I immediately took them, throwing them into my mouth. I struggled to swallow the pills for some reason, but pulled through. I cringed at the bitter taste in my mouth.

"Okay, let's start with this. How much do you remember last night?" Craig asked. I could've sworn I saw anxiety flicker in his eyes, but his voice was completely laid back.

I tapped my finger on my chin, trying to recall anything last night. I remember kicking Kenny's ass, comforting Ike.. Wait, where was Ike?

"Where's Ike?" I asked suddenly, looking around frantically. I noticed that we weren't in my house. Where was my motorcycle? Scratch that. Where's Ike?

"Guest room." Craig said nonchalantly. 

"Who's house is this?" I asked. 

"Mine." He responded.

"Where's my motorcycle?" I asked.

"In the garage." He responded.

I just hummed in response, out of questions to ask. I looked down at my feet, as I continued trying to remember anything.

"I remember Bebe giving me a red solo cup, and it tasted really good. I kinda blacked out after that. Anything and everything before that I have no memory over." I stated honestly, thinking about how that drink tasted.

"What did the drink taste like?" Craig asked curiously. I thought for a moment. 

"Like, sprite. Sprite that was sweet and had a kick to it." I said, still trying to get the whole flavor memorized. 

"That was sprite cranberry and vodka carbonated." Craig said nonchalantly. "Wasn't that your first time drinking? You should've had something more soft, that's why you're so hungover." Craig added. I scoffed. The drink was good, but whatever Bebe had was gross.

"Did I do anything bad last night?" I asked after several moments of silence. Craig didn't respond, he just sat there silently. Almost like he was deciding whether to tell me something.

"Worst thing you did was play spin the bottle with like a dozen of people." Craig said, shrugging. My jaw dropped.

"My first kiss wasted like that?" I groaned, hiding my face in my hands.