The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Facebook dinging noisily. A throbbing headache pounded behind your eyes, each small noise sending another hammer through your skull. Leaning over with a long groan, you hefted the laptop up and opened the lid. The bright light emanating from it blinded you temporarily, and you quickly slammed your hand down on the button to lower these lights. Eventually, you managed to open Facebook, where you found a whopping 14 new messages from Dave, in only the past five minutes.

"John."

"John."

"John."

"JOHN."

"Jooooohn,"

"John,"

"Wake up,"

"John,"

"Wake the fuck up John,"

"Yo, rise n shine sleeping beauty,"

"JOHN!"

"John you lazy fucking assbutt,"

"Get over here,"

"Oh my god,"

Finally you managed to type a response.

"What?"

"Oh my FUCKING GOD, John FINALLY!"

"You want me to come over?!"

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

"When? I just woke up, man. And I have a raging hangover."

"Just… now. See you in an hour."

"What? Okay, I guess! Just give me a bit more than an hour!"

There was no response, though it was shown that he had seen it. Sighing, you shoved the laptop away, and closed the lid. You rolled out of the bed, trying to take slow, quiet steps, as you headed to the kitchen for a tall glass of water. After hydrating yourself (seven and a half glasses of water later), you began to slowly get dressed. Of course you felt way better now than you did a few minutes ago, but you still had a dull throbbing behind your left eye. You tried to shake it away with a quick flip of your head, but really, that only made it worse. A few angry sighs later, and you were clutching your temples tightly as you jerked on a pair of jeans. Shirtless, and in pain, you decided now was a good time to make a good cup of coffee. And make that coffee, you did. While it was brewing, you tugged on a dark blue cashmere sweater, and combed your hair back. You found your glasses sitting beside your desk, about to crash to the floor.

Finally, a whole pot of coffee and a few chores later, you were seated in your car, ready to go. You quickly plugged his address into your GPS, delighted to find he only lived about fifteen minutes away. A stack of shitty movies at your side (Con-Air included), and an excited tremble in your fingertips, you took off.

He was sitting on the front porch when you arrived, smoking a cigarette. He looked up, and smiled slightly, and it seemed that a look of relief had flashed over his face (or terror, when he saw your movies. Either or.). While he snuffed his smoke out, you slowly untangled yourself from the seatbelt, and stepped out of the car.

Nearly immediately, you were wrapped in a warm, shaky hug that smelled of apples, cinnamon, and spice. He held you there tightly, and you wrapped your arms back around his waist, drinking in his delicious scent. Surely, the scene must have looked rather peculiar to anyone viewing from afar, or one who had no idea as to what was going on. You hugged him wordlessly, making up for the missing ten years of comfort and hurt. Finally, and somewhat reluctantly, you both pulled away. He bit his lip gently, and then smirked casually down at you.

"Damn, Egderp, you're even shorter than I remember. Get your adorable ass in here, ya lil fucker," He said, gesturing to the house—no, house isn't quite the right word… gesturing to the MANSION behind him. Needless to say, your jaw quite literally fell open. Slowly, you shuffled after him into the… "House."

Looking around in amazement, you heard yourself gasp loudly. All along the walls was ridiculously expensive equipment, shining and flickering in the light enticingly. He smirked at your excitement, ruffling your shaggy and in-need-of-a-haircut hair.

"When bro moved to his boyfriends island, he left me all a his money. Do you have any idea how much fuckin cash that all is? A god damn fuckton, that's how much. Most of its in saving, but I did use a small fraction of it to fund this castle of irony." He explained, opening a door into a dark room for you.

"F-fraction…?" You gulped, and entered the room. It turned out to be a personal movie theatre. You couldn't help but give a low groan, causing another snicker from Dave to bubble up.

"You like? Or was that little moan out of disgust?" He shut the door, still holding a smirk. If possible, it had become even more heinous than prior smirks. "Either way, it was fuckin hot. Wonder what I'd need to do to make you moan like that again?" He mused, peering at you over the top of his shades. You get the feeling he's only half joking.

"Um… Probably just put Ghost Busters on or something…" you jest back, managing to straighten up a little. To your surprise, he simply leaned over, and flipped a large switch behind you. A loud whirring sound rang around the room for a moment, grinding horribly against your ear drums, then…

"No way, woah!" You covered your mouth, and widened your eyes in shock. How was it already in the projector?!

YOOOO! I think I may have to pause this indefinitely… :/ sorry guysysysysys. But hey—I ain't no Andrew Hussie, so you don't gotta wait an entire god-damned year for dis shit to be back up. I actually like writin and gettin feedback, despite popular belief (*cough*empty comments section*cough*), so I'd appreciate a few things, you know, DOWN THERE*wiggles eyebrows* so ya, gimme somma dat feedback mateys 3