Escalators {Frerard}[COMPLETED]

➳cheiloproclitic

Helloooo.

I'm quite proud of the fact there wasn't that much of a gap between this chapter and the last one. I'm getting there.

Also did I mention I don't really know where this is going? Because I don't really know where this is going.

❝Cheiloproclitic- being attracted to a person's mouth or lips.❞

Seeing as I had never been drunk before in my whole life, the shocking intensity of the headache I was met with upon waking up meant that I reeled almost backwards, falling from the half-elevated position on the bed that I had just about managed.

Wait... Bed... Bed... Whose bed was I in?!

Panic rose up from my stomach and seemed to freeze my blood in almost an instant, because I didn't recognise anything about where I was. Walls of a purpley colour were seeming to close in on me, and I couldn't summon the energy to swing my legs out of bed, onto the patterned brown carpet to go and see if I could find out anything else about where the hell I'd ended up.

The last thing I remembered about last night was taking a drink from Brendon, other than that it had become an incomprehensible mess, complete with whacking headache and almost-panic. I could be absolutely anywhere. I could have been abducted, I could be sitting in the bed of a kidnapper right now, with them sharpening knives in the next room and I'd have no idea. I could be dead in fifteen minutes. I could have gone home with some randomer, who was now wholeheartedly convinced I was disgusting. God only knows what I got up to last night, and I'm not talking about the party. Let's just say that I was a little worried about how I'd come to be in this bed in the first place.

It hit me that I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Get up, go and have a look around and see if I could work out where I was? Yet, I could think of a much longer list of reasons that it would be a bad idea rather than a good one. What if I simply got up, got dressed, and went home? Would the person panic? Call the police? Should I wait here? What if they'd forgotten about me? What if they were going to kill me?

The train of thought that passed through my mind was like an actual train that stampeded through my head, doing nothing for my impressive headache, or levels of what was fast becoming straight-out panic. Even if there was no reason to worry about who owned wherever the hell I was, I would still have to worry about the possibility that I'd... y'know.

It dawned on me that I should probably just see if I could walk, and that would be the quickest way to work out if I'd done something I knew I was going to regret. However, my legs would not obey my command to stand up, and I was reduced to a whimpering mess against the navy pillows, the pain of my hammering head approaching unbearable. 

"Painkillers?"

A bored-sounding voice sounded from the doorway of the room, causing me to jump so amazingly that I thought my head could explode. Trepidation was prevalent, weighing down my stomach as I slowly turned to face the person standing there. No doubt I was going to want to cry when I saw who it was. If I had time to cry, that was. 

Swallowing hard, my eyes met the person standing in the doorway. A mop of straggly, unkempt black hair, dark, puffy, hazel eyes, pale skin... Oh fuck. It was Gerard. I don't think the true horror of this situation had hit me properly. I was horrendously hungover, and I was in Gerard's bed in Gerard's house. Oh god oh god oh god. 

Gerard was grinning as he watched the expression spread over my face, looking strangely amused at my sheer horror. One eyebrow was curled upwards, and in his outstretched hand he offered me two white tablets- painkillers for the headache. I took them off him gratefully, swallowing them dry and quick, being completely unable to bite down the flaming embarrassment I felt towards the situation.