Brandon's POV
My eyes barely opened when the morning light pierced through the curtains and burned against my face. The sting of it made me groan, and with that groan came the rest of it—the pounding in my head, heavy and merciless, like someone had wedged a hammer inside my skull. The smell of alcohol clung to me like smoke after a fire, stale and sour, the kind that seeps into your skin and makes you wish you could peel yourself clean. My mouth tasted metallic, my stomach churned like something was rotting inside me, and every bone in my body ached as though gravity had grown heavier overnight.
I lay there for a moment, motionless, trying to piece myself back together. My hair, damp with sweat, clung to my forehead. I pushed it back with trembling hands and blinked against the light. Another groan escaped my throat when I turned and caught sight of the clock on the nightstand.
"Fuck."
I was late for school.
