Glass Hearts || Noah Sebastian

21.

    My eyes peel open slowly, the sleep that had built up since I closed them last gluing them shot almost completely. I can feel as the clusters pull away at my skin, making it nearly impossible to part the slits but when I do I can see that I am in a bright stark white room. My head hanging over a porcelain toilet seat. The overbearing taste of vomit lingering on my lips as I pull my head away from the surface I had dropped on over night. I bring the back of my hand up to wipe away the liquid that had dripped from my mouth, seeing a stringy strand of spit pull away from my lips as I bring my hand back down. I catch a glimmer of something out of the conner or my eye, the bright lights of a the unfamiliar bathroom shine against a foreign object on my ring finger. My stomach twisting at the sight as I gawk at the small diamond glistening against it. Eyes wide, I can't help but feel panic set in. Unsure of how I acquired the piece of jewelry but knowing it wasn't without reason I can't help but freak out. My head lifts from the porcelain ring beneath me as I bring my hand closer to my eye to observe. It twinkles under the light, the small stone set on a delicate silver band.

"What the fuck" I say to myself as I stand, the room spinning around me as I stumble to my feet. Clearly I drank enough to not remember how I ended my night, or how I ended up in what's clearly a hotel bathroom. Travel size bottles of shampoo and conditioner being the first giveaway, the second being the smell of commercial grade cleaner that lingers around me. It mixes with the pungent aroma of the contents of my stomach, making me gag slightly.

Walking over to the sink I catch a glimpse of my reflection. Sometime in the midst of whatever we got into last night I seem to have swapped out my shorts and T-shirt for a knee length white dress. Its lace sleeves hitting my wrist, as it flows out at the waist. It's cute, beautiful even. But as I continue to gawk at the formal attire my stomach starts to turn with the unsavory feeling of worry. The small pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together and form a guess on how I ended my night. The ring, the white dress, the random Hotel bathroom. It's all the ingredients for a perfect storm to fortify.

I feel the panic set in, attempting to calm myself I splash my face with a few handfuls of cold water. The chill waking me up but not settling the harsh thumping in my chest. My shaky hands grab the cold metal knob, twisting I to the left to open. The room I walk into would be pitch black if not for the small crack in the blinds that guard the big glass door on the other end. I can tell we are in a suite on the strip, catching a small glimpse through the window of the replica Eiffel Tower that stands proudly in the center of town.

It's still and quiet, I can hear as the busy city lives loudly beyond the walls. The small sound of snoring coming from somewhere around me. I follow the slight hum, stepping over passed out bodies of the members of Bad Omens. Nick is sprawled across a grey sofa, head thrown over the arm and limbs spread out like a starfish. A few feet from him is jolly who lays with his left leg throw over Davis. Both men have their mouths hung open. It's cute and innocent, like two friends having a sleepover and they had spent the entire night previous exchanging stories until the early hours of the morning. If it wasn't for the intense anxiety I was feeling I would snap a picture of the duo, something to capture and look back on years from now. But I'm in far too much of a panic to do so. Instead, I step over their slumbered bodies and attempt to find one of two people.

Mel Or Noah.

One of them has to have the answers I need. Continuing through the suite I find myself within a few feet of the loud snoring. Noah lays on his back on the large king size beds that's just behind an opened door that leads into a small private room. He also, is in a different attire than I remembered. Switching from his graphic tee and joggers to a black pair of cargo pants and black button up shirt. His chin is tilted upward, mouth parted slightly as the roaring falls. His right leg hangs off the bed, sneakers thrown sloppily along the carpeted floor.