Oneshot No. 91 (419 Words)

743 11 28
                                    

tw: alcohol

tw: swearing

this is going to be a very lazy oneshot im sorry :(


YOUR PERSPECTIVE:

I had gotten drunk off my head at a party last night, and I woke up in someone else's bed. I was in a white, oversized hoodie with a black smiley face on it that smelt like cologne.

I scanned the room I was in, seeing a guy getting changed. He peeled off his t-shirt and put on a different one. 

He turns around and notices I'm awake, throws me a smile.

"Oh, you're awake," he says. 

I tilt my head. "Wh-what?"

"Oh. I'm Clay. You came to my party, things got out of hand. A weird guy was trying to take you home. You looked really uncomfortable, so I knew he wasn't your boyfriend or a friend or something. So, I came over and said we were dating. He left, quickly, and soon afterwards you tried going back to the party. I kind of restricted you, because I'd been watching you at the p- Okay, that sounds really weird. I wasn't-" he chuckles, "I wasn't, like, watching you-"

I giggle, "Observing? Liked what you saw?"

I notice he gets flustered.

"Go on with your story, Pretty Boy, because I'm hungover and I forgot your name," I say.

Pretty Boy continues, "I was... observing, right, and I didn't want you drinking anymore, because God knows what would happen. So I took you into my bedroom an- I need to stop saying weird things, I'm sorry- I carried you to this specific room in my house and my two friends and I just made sure you went to sleep soothe. Once you were, they took the guest rooms and I took the couch."

I hear noises outside the door, and nod. 

"In fact, that's them," Pretty Boy says.

"What are their names?"

"The short one is George and you can call the other one Nick. That's our real names."

"Real names...? You have fake ones?" 

Pretty boy seems to freeze.

"Uhh- it's a bit confusing. You see, our jobs are... uhh... we need fake names for it."

"Well, what's your jobs?"

"We're youtubers," he says hesitantly. 

"Look, Pretty Boy, my head pounds and I'm barely processing what you're saying, so I'm just gonna say you're secret agents."

"Fine with me. You should probably eat something, come with me."

I look at Pretty Boy, and he really is a pretty boy. 

"If you say so, Pretty Boy."

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