𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 james x alex

mistakes

The day after Alex's twenty-first birthday. February 1st 2020. It's too bright, and it's way too early. He's in Vegas, what a mistake.

His head throbs as he looks at the clock. It's almost eleven in the morning. That is still way too early. He doesn't remember what time they got in last night. He just remembers that he drank way too much.

It had started off with the bottle of champagne that they had in the room, which was way too expensive but James had insisted on opening, getting cracked open at four in the afternoon after they'd rolled in from a day of sight-seeing while the rest of their friends were still out, doing something or other.

They'd drunk that over the next few hours and while Alex wasn't tipsy, per se, he'd had alcohol flowing in his veins and so by the time they went to dinner, meeting up with the rest of the group, he wound up having a couple of glasses of wine, he wasn't really thinking about that, because wine isn't really that strong and he hadn't been planning on partying, just a nice dinner with James and his friends.

They'd traveled with George, Will, Fraser, Erling, and Hannah, Alex having invited all of them to celebrate with him that birthday, and they'd all fallen in together fairly easily, getting along and laughing at each other, no fractures or stresses from uncomfortable relationships, and George and Will had been the ones to suggest going out to a nightclub.

That's where the real trouble had started. Because they'd all insisted on buying Alex a shot of something for his birthday, so that was six shots from his six friends over the next several hours.

Plus he'd bought a couple drinks of his own. He was toasted. He was sloshed. He couldn't walk straight. He could barely keep his eyes open. He'd been drinking on and off since four in the afternoon and by then, it was probably eleven at night.

He thinks that's where his memory drifts away from him. He faintly remembers something that has to be hours later - the sky was just starting to turn a shade lighter than black, at least, he thinks he remembers, when he and James made it back to their room.

He remembers laughing. They were in their group of seven, laughing hysterically. Erling the loudest. Fraser perhaps the least, as if sombered by something.

That's about all he remembers. Alex groans and rolls. He feels James next to him, strange he was almost sure he was going to sleep on the couch on the other side of the room.

But then again having been utterly pissed meant they had both probably just fallen into the bed. They'd only gotten two rooms and with four beds, it was inevitable that people shared beds. Hanna and Erling, George and Will, Alex and James. Fraser had lounged luxuriously in his own bed, grinning at them about how well he'd sleep.

They'd been there three days, arrived a couple days before Alex's birthday, had enjoyed themselves immensely. Today is their last day - they leave at five. Which means they really don't have a lot of time for anything besides packing and one last quick viewing of whatever they might want to see before they have to head to the airport.

Alex's head throbs. He feels like fucking death. It's all bloody Erling's fault - he was the one who insisted on buying Alex a shot. He was also the one who insisted everybody else buy Alex a shot.

Alex finally pries open his eyes for good, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth and grimacing at the taste. Had he even bothered to fucking brush his teeth before he went to bed? He doubts it. He glances at his clothes. He didn't even bother to change before he went to bed, so yeah, he really doubts he brushed his teeth.

James's next to him taking up most of the bed, also wearing what he went out in the night before. James was nearly as drunk as Alex, and his tolerance is ridiculous so it wasn't much of a suprise. Alex thinks he remembers James insisting on having to take a shot of whatever round that his friends bought Alex as well, because they're best mates like they were in primary school.