The last thing I remember was being hit on the head with a frying pan.
Shit.
There are lights everywhere, and it hurts to open my eyes. When I do, it takes a long while for everything to swim into focus. The first thing I see is the face of a blonde boy with dark eyebrows staring down at me with wide blue eyes the colour of the sea. The sea's so pretty, I begin to think, And the seagulls-
"He's awake, he's awake!" Peter screams, which is agony to my already pounding head. "Pappa, pappa!"
"Wh-?" I manage to mumble before the pain peaks and I'm forced to close my eyes and shut my mouth for fear of it exploding. That's how it feels, at any rate.
Seconds later, the heavy footsteps of Berwald sound, and I can feel rather than see him in the room, probably because my eyes are closed.
"Peter, go to yer room," he grunts and the little boy scurries out of the room obediently.
Damn my head hurts.
Damn the lights are really bright.
Damn that was some shitty beer.
Damn.
"Finn, you awake?"
"That's what they tell me."
I hear him laugh and feel the mattress shift as he sits down on the bed, his weight being much more than mine. Even with my pudgy belly.
"Ye' drank a lot last night," he finally said.
I tried to nod, but since it felt like I were to continue the simple movement I would die, I managed a small, "Yup."
"Ye' barged into Hungary's house."
That explains the frying pan.
"Was I naked?" I ask, grinning despite myself.
"Nope. I would'a taken a video then."
I laugh, which hurts almost as much as nodding, but I don't care. "Next time."
"Yup," he agrees simply and lays down next to me.
That's pretty much how Mondays work.