Brighter Places [🗸]

9. hangovers will ruin my life

A throbbing fucking headache.

That's what I wake up with.

And granted, given as I don't remember half of what the hell went down last night, it's probably for a valid reason. I've come to the conclusion that there's no way I didn't drink David's Mystery Punch, because that shit is intense as hell. And it completely knocked me out.

Once my vision starts to clear a little bit, I prop myself onto my elbows, blinking slowly as I try to recover from whatever the hell happened at David's house last night. The room finally comes into view, and I grab a blue blanket from the bed, about to raise it to my chin when I stop.

A blue blanket.

The blanket falls from my grip, and I start glancing around the room, everything now materializing in front of me. My eyes are practically blinded because everything is so fucking bright in this room. 

The sunlight glows in, the cerulean blue blankets reflect off of it. Where my room is gray, this one's white. White walls, white shelves, a white table.

So goddamn bright.

And after a few moments of pointedly judging the room, shit dawns on me. And the shit that dawns on me is the fact that I'm not in my room.

My eyes widen as I glance around repeatedly. So, this is the moment Ms. Willis has been praying for since I was forced under her care. I've finally been abducted. My time has come. Some creepy fucker has kidnapped me.

This is not Amir's room. Amir's theme is all amber colors. Not whatever this is. And my friend count is limited, so there aren't many options for whose room this could be.

It's while I'm weighing over taking a leap through the nearest window or venturing further into the unknown house that the door opens.

"Who's that?" I snap, because waking up in a different house than I'm used to has never been a good thing. I jump to my feet, arms positioned with my fists clenched in the air. "I'll have you know that I took jiu jitsu lessons till I was eleven."

Now, I won't necessarily say that's all that accurate. That being said, my second foster family did run a martial arts school, and the kids around there were fucking ruthless. They beat the shit out of me more times than I'd care to admit. 

But I got better out of it.

At least, I'd like to think so.

"Yeah, alright." The voice says, and Lucas fucking Garcia makes his way into view, a glass in hand. "Calm down, asshat."

I let my arms slowly fall to my sides, falling down to my bed as Lucas' fingers brush mine for the millionth of a second, and a cold cup cools my hands.

"And a pain reliever." He tosses the small white tablet, and I catch it in my hands, slipping it into my mouth and drowning it down with the water.

"So..." I start, lowering my glass, eyebrows raised at Lucas, a silent question on my lips.