He's My Neighbour

25: We're Together

A/N: I don't have much to say at the moment, but just want to say thanks again for the positive responses I've been getting from the chapters!

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Jake's POV: Chapter 25: We're Together

A sour, unmistakable taste filled my mouth, making me frown in disgust, leaving my eyes shut. I didn't have the physical strength to open them.

The taste of alcohol.

The taste of a hangover.

My head was in agony. You know that trick that all of the magicians do when they put a volunteer in a box and they shove swords through it? That described my situation perfectly, except the assistant always gets out, and judging from the throbbing in my temples, it'd be a while before I made it to that stage of the act.

Still not ready to bear the light, I raised a hand to my head and delicately massaged my head, but only made the pain worse.

Shit it hurt.

I'd not been pissed enough to feel a heartbeat in my own freaking brain in a long time. What even happened last night? I stormed out, roamed the streets... then what? I hate how drinking does that to you. In the moment, you're happy, you've got the confidence to say what you want, even if it's a little stupid most of the time. You feel untouchable. However, the next day life kicks you in the teeth with iron boots and you can't even remember what you did to deserve it. I was still fully clothed, which was a promising sign. My skinny jeans, fitted t-shirt, vans, and I was too drunk to even take off my coat before I hit the sack... And damn, the coat was heavy.

Giving in, I opened my eyes and winced at the iridescent light attacking me.

I was back at Amy's gran's without any cuts or bruises, to my surprise.

After popping a couple of paracetamol into my mouth, and gulping harshly, I sat up onto the sofa and removed my shoes. Gritting my teeth through the stabbing pain of migraine, I threw them next to the kitchen door and cursed under my breath, as they slapped down loud onto the tiles, echoing throughout the house. I quickly whipped off my leather jacket too, tossing it down onto the floor carelessly. I heard something fall out of it, but I just didn't care- I needed sleep. Damn, I was turning all the more into Amy.

"You're home?" I heard a voice mumble, without even looking once at me.

I'd use the phrase 'speak of the devil', but even Amy's ratchet bedhead didn't disguise the fact that she was an angel for not immediately wanting to rip my tonsils out of my throat.

"Yeah." I said expressionless, then slowing down when I saw what she was wearing. "Is that one of my shirts?"

I looked her up and down, as she made her way to flick on the kettle. I'm pretty sure that it was my top. After all, what normal teenage girl has an American football jersey about seven sizes too big, that suspiciously looked like the one her neighbour was randomly missing for over a month.

"You can have it back if you want." She grumbled, pouring some cornflakes into a bowl, "I went home in it that day we watched the movie at your place- y'know the day before you totally blanked me for a week. Guess I forgot to give it to you."

I shrugged blankly, and clenched my fist at the whistle of the kettle finishing up boiling. It sounded like a freaking firework was just launched inside of my head.

"Got a problem with that?" She asked plainly, gesturing towards my nails digging into the skin of my palms.

I needed to learn to make my anger more discreet.