Never Look Up (Frerard Dld sequel)

Chapter 22

Mikey pov

Memories from last night where heavy on my mind as I awakened to an intense bright light coming in through the window and a piercing headache that was beginning to form. I rolled over on my side, blindly feeing for my glasses on the side table before putting them on. I sat up, a little disassociated with my surroundings, and that's when I realized I was not in my bedroom.

"Mornin' Sleeping Beauty. Too bad I didn't get to kiss you." Pete teased walking over and playfully running a hand through my messy hair.

I cringed, scrunching my nose. "Sorry, did you have to babysit me all night.

"Don't worry about it. If anything you just made my night more eventful." He sighed, radiating exterior dimming a bit with exhaustion. Which honestly he lookes just as sleep deprived as I did hungover.

"What time is it?" I grumbled feeling like I was literally hit by a train, I probably looked like it too.

"A little past noon, hopefully you didn't have anything important planned for the day." He handed me a glass of water and some aspirin before tacking a seat at the end of bed.

"Oh... thanks." My response was slow, my brain actually beginning to process the daunting task of overcoming a hangover. I halfheartedly smiled, taking the glass of water into my hands. With my free hand, I reached for my phone, surprised at the lack of texts, not even from Gerard.

"Gerard called me this morning." Pete spoke, sensing my confusion.

"Oh what'd he say?"

"Nothing much. He said just let him know when I feel like kicking you out and he'll come pick you up."

"He didn't interrogate you about our whereabouts all night?"

"Nope. I didn't get any good cop bad cop action from either Frank or Gerard."

"That's good. I was worried he was gonna be mad."

"He was probably busy or somethin." Pete shrugged, now reaching over and tuning his guitar absentmindedly.

"Maybe." Gerard is probably just happy I'm somewhere other than my bedroom.

The silence that followed would have been awkward if his guitar wasn't filling up the empty space, but every few seconds I could feel him staring at me and I knew he wanted to talk. He's definitely going to ask about last night. How could he not? If I were him I'd me itching to know.

Unfortunately my suspicion was right. "How are you feeling?" He pressed with slight concern, trying to hide his subliminal interest.

"Fine... I honestly feel more embarrassed and stupid than anything else." I nervously played with my glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of my nose.

"I don't see why, I've done way worse and you've always been there for me, so I don't mind playing nurse for a day." He chuckled. I suppose he was right. I've been to a lot of his concerts and that's a lot of time to make bad decisions. I don't know how many countless times I've walked-no-carried his drunk self home. I never minded it though. I'd do it a thousand times over again if he needed me to.

"No... Not just that." Might as well rip the band aid off now. I know he's going to bring it up and it's a talk that needs to happen, why keep avoiding it? "You want to know, don't you? You said we were going to talk..." I sat up more in the bed, waiting for his response. My heart was beating like a hammer against my chest, breathe feeling strained by anxiety.