A/N: Here's another for you guys. Very short but it's something. Thanks for ALL the wonderful reviews.
Just as a personal side-note: I work in retail and we sell Men's graphic tees. We had them on sale last week and I totally picked up one with a vintage design with the words "Pepsi-Cola" on the front. Hehe.
Enjoy. R/R.
Chapter 10: Crying
I woke up the following day, or at least what I thought and hoped was the following day, in a complete daze. The world around me was a vague, foggy picture as I came to and I couldn't place where I was or when it was. My eyes were heavy like when I stayed up all night reading or studying. I thought maybe I had gotten sick or something. A percussion band was having a recital in my head, the large gong placed right against my temple. My lips were bone dry and cracking. I went to lick them so they would stop their dang throbbing when I tasted something funny. Before I could place the for some reason familiar taste, my body jerked up out of the bed I hadn't realized I was in and found its way to the closest bathroom. My body was so used to the event that just had occurred, I assumed that I had done this now a time or two or a lot more. I leaned over the toilet and let the last bits of vomit drip from my open mouth. The sight of what had just come out of me made we want to repeat the process over again. Before I had finished that thought, I was. This time it emptied the contents of my stomach, letting a few dry heaves follow. All the commotion made the band play louder and more vigorously inside my skull and I fell backwards onto the tile, leaning against the bathroom wall for support. I didn't want to move, I didn't want to breathe.
"Morning sunshine" I heard a voice say, peeking their head through the door. "How would you like a greasy fried egg sandwich for breakfast, kid?"
The image caused another dry heave.
"Lay off, Two-Bit" Soda said, entering and kneeling beside me.
Home? Somehow I was at my house, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how or why, and why Darry wasn't in here beating the tar out of me for last night.
"I'm just congratulating the kid on his first hangover is all; I am the expert after all."
"That's about the only thing you're an expert at" Darry joked, joining us, sounding a bit too serious for sarcasm.
Two-Bit picked up on the cue and turned and walked away.
"How are you feeling?" Soda asked quietly, taking my face in his hand and giving me a good look over.
"I'm fine." I mumbled, turning my head sharply away from him.
"Yeah, you sure look like it."
Tim's voice cut through my mind. "Yeah, you sure look like it, kid."
I sat there, trying desperately to remember what I had said and wondering like hell why Darry wasn't skinning me, let alone yelling.
I glanced up to find him, no way, crying.