Chapter 1: Delirium
Okay…just open your eyes…I have a feeling that it's going to be late—gah, what if they start lecturing me about my drinking? Hell I would not like to listen to that…but I gotta piss so bad. Gah, just get your lazy ass up. She groggily opened one eye, then the other, her vision blurred for the first few seconds. She slowly got up, her hair falling from her face, to her sides. She rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily, throwing her legs over the bed—rather dramatically. She huffed, and threw the remaining blankets off of her to find…that she was naked. "The fuck?" She hissed, grabbing one of the sheets and tossing it over her shoulders; making some form of cloak. She made her way to the bathroom, and after relieving herself she walked back outside, making her way to her bed to resume her snooze—but then saw something.
She stopped abruptly, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "Are those my shoes? No, I don't think those are my shoes—are they…?" She hurriedly walked over towards the mysterious shoes and crouched down. She picked them up and started examining them. They were big, that's for sure. Big. Black. Leather boots. "Well, it looks like something I would wear but," She placed her foot in one of them. "They're too big." She kicked it off, and then saw there was more to it than merely someone else's shoes. She crawled around the floor and noticed some leathers pants, and a black shirt and a very long overcoat…
She ran her fingers through her hair, scrunching her eyes trying to think of what had happened last night, but nothing. She couldn't remember a damn thing. "What the hell did I do last night?" She whispered, rubbing her forehead. "It's not really what you did, it's who you did." A slick voice said from behind her. She whirled around and saw a man standing there in nothing by gray sweatpants. "What?" She said her voice low. The man grinned and made his way towards her. "You really don't remember anything, do you?" She scooted back a few paces, her face full of confusion. "What am I supposed to remember?" He smirked, kneeling down and placing a hand on her knee. "How I—no, make that we—made the bed all wibbly-wobbly last night." Her eyes went wide. "You mean you and I—" He nodded slowly. "Oh yes."
"Oh Jesus fucking Christ…how drunk was I?" The man looked slightly offended. "Woman I am not that damn ugly. You don't need to be completely wasted to hit this," He stood up and "showed off" what she had been dealing with last night. She looked at him completely baffled. "I did that?" He looked at her slightly confused. "Well, yes…is there a problem?" She snorted. "You're so scrawny and so damn tall. Being scrawny and tall usually does not end up very well my friend." He looked down at her and simply smirked. "Oh really? Well, by the mixture of sounds that you made last night—I don't think I was a complete scrawny failure." She flushed, and stood up.
"Okay, okay…I have accepted the fact that we fucked last night…but who are you?" The man smirked. "You really don't remember?" She raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Well—if I did, why the hell would I ask you?" The man simply chuckled. "Maybe this will help—oh Peter, Peter…Peter!" He squeaked in a feminine voice. She stepped back a few paces, and rubbed her forehead. Why does that name sound so familiar? Peter…Peter what? Wait—Peter… "Peter Vincent?" The man—Peter—smiled and clapped his hands together. "So she's finally getting her memory back!" She frowned. "No, I'm not. I just remember your name from…the bar?" She rubbed her temples. "Aha! So you do remember how we met?" She looked at him. "Kind of…I mean, it's a blurring of pictures…but I remember seeing your face after—guitars, and microphones…" Peter smirked and made his way towards her. "Starting to get the events together?" She nodded her head 'no'. "I can only remember certain snippets…not everything you damn idiot…what the hell happened last night, really?" Peter simply smirked and walked over, plopping down unto the bed. "Well come on, I'm not going to tell you from all the way over there."
She rolled her eyes and pulled the sheets closer to her body, walking slowly over to the bed and sitting down next to him. "So, Peter: explain." He grinned. "Oh I love it when you say my name," He said through his teeth. "Anyways, the whole thing is rather amusing—really. But, I guess it all started when I needed to get away from Vegas for a couple of weeks…"
Author's Note: So yes, I have decided to write a fan fiction on "Fright Night"…oh boy. But, this will mainly be on the one and only: Peter Vincent. (So, fangirls rejoice!) If you can't tell by now, it will be between him and an original character. So—hope you like this little story. Read and review, thanks.