Zach woke up feeling extraordinarily hungover.
As he lay there, attempting to control his ridiculous headache, a slight movement from next to him caught his attention.
The guitarist froze, not wanting to roll over, not wanting to confirm what he had just remembered about who he was currently sharing a bed with. The person rolled over and Zach felt his arm pressing into their back as they shifted closer to him.
God, he really, really didn’t want to look…
As long as he didn’t look, last night didn’t happen, none of it had happened as long as he didn’t-
He had to look.
Had to make sure that those fuzzy, drunken memories were accurate and not just some sort of sick dream.
Because he hadn’t been that drunk.
At least, not as drunk as his current bedmate had been.
Zach reluctantly turned his head ever so slightly. He didn’t think that the slight movement would wake the other person up. They were a pretty heavy sleeper even when they weren’t ridiculously drunk or hungover. But he still didn’t want to accidentally wake them up.
Sure enough, his eyes were greeted with a spray of red hair spread out across the white pillowcase like blood.
Most definitely Brent’s hair.
Zach flung an arm over his face. Now he really couldn’t deny what had happened last night.
Not with his singer sound asleep next to him, bare shoulder peeking out from under the blankets like an accusation to Zach’s guilt.
The guitarist sighed softly, going back to staring at the ceiling. How was he even going to explain this to Brent when the singer woke up? Should he just pretend to not remember? That would probably work, but was their situation too obvious?
It was the best that Zach thought of doing in his current hungover state.
So he just laid there, staring morosely at the ceiling until he felt Brent stir next to him.
“Jesus christ…” The singer hissed, and Zach didn’t even need to look over to know that Brent had tried to open his eyes.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Zach said lightly.
“Why the hell is it so bright and why does my head hurt so much?” Brent rasped, rolling over to hide his face in Zach’s shoulder.
“Well, that would be because you’re hungover. Extraordinarily so, judging from the fact that my own hangover is pretty bad and you drank way more than me.”
“Oh my god…” Brent tried to bury his face deeper against Zach’s shoulder. “I feel like shit.”
“I believe it. Want some water? I’ve been working up the energy to get some myself.”
Zach made himself roll out of bed, because Brent just sounded so pitiful and raspy. He filled a glass of water, downed it himself and then filled it up again for Brent. When he came out of the bathroom, he found that the singer had managed to roll himself up in the blankets like some kind of cocoon, which was pretty cute. Zach sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to nudge the mass of blankets.
“I got you some water but I don’t think you can drink it in there.”
“Watch me.” But Brent emerged from his nest, sitting up to drink some of the water. His long hair was a tangled mess, falling around his shoulders. “So Zach…”
“So Brent,” Zach imitated.
“What happened last night?”