The rest of the night just... Passed. The only thing you can remember is the chaste kisses and drunken singsong. You had decided to play along after all, with the help from a drink or three. Maybe you actually had some sort of fun. Or perhaps it was just the alcohol acting for you. It was just a blur or dancing and joking, and far too much pipeweed. Your father hadn't seemed to mind though - as long as he saw his daughter happy at the engagement he had arranged, he would drink himself silly for lovers' sake.
That was part of your problem right now. The pounding in your head is becoming unbearable, and your stomach doesn't feeling too good either. You've never been much of a juicer, meaning last night was quite a surprise on your system, leaving you with regret and future reference. You sigh again, burying yourself deeper into the duvet of your bed. The warmth gives you a somewhat sense of comfort, but you can't help wandering about Frodo, how he stormed out last night. That is the one thing you wish you couldn't remember.
Gut instinct tells you to speak to him right away and ask what's wrong, but if he was so eager to get away from you, perhaps you should leave him be. Besides, you've already botched your friendship with him the night you kissed, and he was probably just still brassed off with you. If that was how he felt, you should just keep you distance.
But you can't.
How do you stay so uninterested in a boy full of so much passion and adventure? One who you're insanely inlove with? Could he just push you away like that? You tried, you really did, but maybe you just weren't blatant enough with him. Being shy has never helped you in these situations, only keeping you from what you really want to say. If you had told him a long time ago, maybe you wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place.
You squint at the sun as it seeps through your curtains, throwing its citrus rays across you bed and into your eyes. Ouch. Whatever the time is, it doesn't matter anyway - spending the whole day cooped up in your room doesn't seem like a half bad idea, giving you time to both think and recover. The headache swings back a little harder again and you bring a hand to your head to rub at your temple. How are you supposed to think when your head is all screwed up like this?
"(Y/n)? Are you up darling?"
Oh great, and just as you were about to try and sleep. You raise your hand in a half-hearted motion to come in, grunting in response. The door creaks open to see your mother with a tray of toast, fruit and tea, already up and dressed. How exactly could she do that? After placing the food down onto your bedside table, your mother perches herself on the edge of your bed still smiling.
"Are you feeling any better?" Her voice is soft as always, reaching to stroke stray strands of hair from your face. At least someone could care about your well being in the absence of your best friend. You really need to stop reminding yourself about that.
"Mmh, I'll be fine." You murmur, rubbing your still-banging head. That damned sunlight is still hitting blasted rays into your face; you pull yourself up into a half slouching, half sitting position in an attempt to get away slightly. It didn't work and it still pains your (e/c) orbs.
"I'm not on about that."
"Then what do you mean?"
"About... You getting married and all..." Your mother trails off. A panicked look crosses your face, unsure of what to say. Was she all for you getting married? Or should you just lie?
"Uhm, I mean, yeah... Pippin's pretty nice." You simper forcibly. In truth, he is. You just don't particularly want to be married to the guy.
"No, tell me the truth. What do you really think?"
"I..." You think for a minute, trying to come up with a way that won't sound rude or ungrateful. Your father probably pulled a lot of strings for this, but he really should have bothered from the way you see it. He always had to think of his business affairs first. You weren't even asked for god's sake. "I don't love him. I don't want to marry someone I don't love. Why can't I just pick on my own?"
"I know it's hard, love." Your mother scoots up to you, gently slinging an arm around you. "But maybe you could grow to love him? There's really nothing I can do. I've already tried reasoning with your father, but-"
"I don't want to, though!" You sob, ignoring the added pain it added to your already weak form. "I-I'm already in love! I could never do such a thing..."
Your mother stays silent as you sob into her shoulder, now lost for words. That she hadn't expected, and it was going to make this situation a lot more difficult. There's no reasoning with you now.