Leuthold Preparatory | ✓

Chapter Twenty

Noah's head ached before he awoke. He could feel his heartbeat in his eyes and his toes. It felt so violently slow yet it quickened to an even more uncomfortable pace when he realized he felt something on his leg. He couldn't help the yelp that came to him when his blurry eyes caught onto a figure shaking his ankle. He scrambled back in the bed, only to let out a large sigh when the figured laughed and he recognized Hannil's voice then figure between the bright lights that Noah guessed to be windows.

"Up and at 'em," Hannil said as he stepped away from the bed.

Noah closed his eyes at the lights, feeling as though he wanted to do nothing other than crawl beneath the sheets and go right back to sleep. The room was filled with the noise of a city, the breath of fresh air, the smell of breakfast, but Noah wanted none of it as he watched Hannil stand by a window and heard him talking but couldn't make out what he said.

"I feel sick," Noah finally breathed.

"Your hair is sicker," Hannil told him as he tossed something onto the bed and Noah squinted at it before he reached and found it to only be an apple. His stomach churned at the idea of eating, he set it aside and grabbed his starch-white pillow before he paused in thought.

His attention moved to a darkened television screen on the wall opposite him, windows sat on either side, one was to his right and the curtains moved with the breeze. It was warm; beige pillows and part of a beige blanket were on the green carpet and wooden floor. Noah's clothes were strewn about and Noah had a vague memory of taking them off. He realized, after a moment, he couldn't remember much after it had gotten dark and Hannil had been teaching him how to drink bourbon in a bar that smelled like peanuts and sweat.

"Hannil?"

"If you're going to puke, don't do it in the bed," Hannil called through the open doorway to his left.

Noah found himself in a t-shirt and sweatpants and decided that he was not stable enough to get dressed before he stumbled around his lost shoes and clothes and moved to the open doorway.

Hannil was out on a balcony that overlooked the lake they had been watching all night. There were so many noises and the sun was so bright that Noah decided to stay in the shade. There was another room and another bed that was neatly made and Hannil's shoes waited near the door.

"Are we in a hotel?" Noah asked.

"Er, yup," Hannil replied before he bit into an apple. "Hungover?" He asked.

"I think so," Noah said.

"Going to throw up?"

"I don't think so."

Hannil shrugged before he walked to him and slung his arm around his shoulders, effectively turned him and brought him back into the suite. "Come, eat some pancakes, you'll feel better."

"I don't want to eat. I might throw up if I do."

Hannil laughed, "You'll be fine."

Hannil brought him to another balcony where a breakfast was served on a silver tray. Noah felt barely alive as Hannil sat him down in the white, patio chair and settled in the one across from him, his eyes searched the city.

"I think I'm still drunk," Noah muttered before he groaned at the thought of eating any of the food that laid before him. "Why do people still drink after being drunk once?"

"If you started drinking again, you'd stop being nauseous," Hannil answered before he took another bite of his apple.

"Why aren't you hungover?"