Overly dramatic waking up story

Velyr hated waking up in the morning, because not only did nothing get better than the day before, it in fact got considerably worse, from the huge headache to the nauseating feeling and every other wonderful part of a hangover.

‘Just stop drinking.’ 

‘Like I’d be capable of doing that.’

‘You are not capable of anything.’

Getting up seemed incredibly unappealing, and were it not for the craving for more of the liquid courage he’d stay in that shitty bed forever.

‘Of course the only reason you’d get up would be alcohol.’

The tawyr slowly sat up with the incredible help from his arms, and ungodly sight of a messy collection consisting of a bunch of meaningless scars and scratches that are topped off by the bloody knuckles from trying to punch the most formidable of enemies to death, the wall. 

He let his head hang for a while, letting the headache do it’s thing, he was not in a hurry anyway, not like he ever was, so he enjoyed the view of his legs and surprisingly clean floor, of course not thanks to his own volition as the one who scrubbed the floor was either Aeson or Mal. Scratch that, it was Aeson, he enjoyed cleaning the floors for reasons that Velyr found unimaginable.

The slightly clean floor was not enough to keep his mind off of booze so he instead opted to a different challenge, what’s the time. An unexpectedly hard task, thanks to his blurry vision trying to determine the position of the clock’s hands turned out to be quite difficult, but at this point he’ll take anything that will slightly distract him from the urge to throw up any second.

‘You can’t even read the clock can you?’ 

‘Throwing up on the floor like a disgusting animal suits you well.’

Let’s rewrite the beginning, because Velyr hated waking up anytime.

It was now close to noon, which meant that Velyr better not throw up as sooner or later one of his glorified babysitters would come and ask him about eating. Instead he should focus on getting himself in such a state that will leave them with the least suspicion of how much and for how long he actually drank.

‘If you were on the streets again this wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘It’s not like you do anything to earn this anyway. You can’t.’

Velyr would love to shut the voices in his head not because of what they were saying but because any kind of thought just made his headache throb harder. Both Mal and Aeson told him not to listen to them anyway, and tried to overwrite them with statements of the opposite variety.

 Unfortunately for them they weren’t yelling those affirmations at Velyr most of his conscious life, so their efforts were rendered useless just by the sheer magnitude, they were doomed to lose from the beginning. 

Not that he’d ever tell either of them about it, because Mal is enough of a fuckwad he’d be capable of actually yelling those flowery statements at him all day, never shutting up. That would certainly be the last straw that would drive Velyr to finally kill himself for real this time.

‘Do it now, they’ll be fine without you.’

‘How fucking embarrasing would it be if they caught you before you died? Disgusting.’

‘You weren’t ever capable of doing the straight-forward methods anyway, pussy.’ 

The bottle next to his bed was to everyone's surprise empty, along with a few more laying on various places on the floor. Velyr reckoned some disgusting useless piece of shit had to drink it all yesterday, leaving him no other choice but to go to the one hidden on the top of a high closet.

The thought process behind it being that drunk Velyr would not be able to coordinate enough to get there, whilst post blackout-drunk Velyr would be able to think at least one more thought per minute hopefully allowing him to muster up enough coordination to get it. 

The ebony tawyr cursed at himself for that stupid idea as he slowly stood up, supporting himself on the bed since he wasn’t feeling the steadiest on his legs.

‘You can’t even stand up.’

‘Chair, I could fly there...’

‘Or just give up and die.’

Velyr sank down to his knees as he face-planted into the bed, lovingly covering his head with his hands and pulling on his hair with as much strength as he could afford.

‘Hey Mal, could you get me booze from the top of the closet, cause I’m a uselles fuck who can’t function without taking a sip if shitty alcohol thanks.’

‘Oh boohoo cover your head, make them all concerned when they come so they can all feel sorry for poor traumatized Velyr.’

‘Just get the fucking bottle.’

With about as much effort as he ever put into anything Velyr stood up, losing a bit of balance which he quickly regained back when he grabbed onto a nearby chair. It got merceresely yanked at the closet who was also not spared, getting punched shortly after.

Pain was a good distraction, alcohol was a better one, and Velyr certainly didn’t mind his knuckles bleeding again if it meant he got his hands on the latter. The light sensation he got from the liquid pouring into his mouth was worth anything, it’s always been. Nothing has ever changed that, Mal has never changed that, nothing will ever change that. 

Velyr once again got hit by a familiar lack of balance, but he cared considerably less than before as he leaned onto the closet for support. laying the half full bottle next to it, then seamlessly moving onto all the empty ones, hiding them in spots no one would look, nothing filled Velyr with as much determination as hiding how much alcohol he actually drank.

Dressing up was never hard, since Velyr rarely undressed in the first place, and he could seriously not be bothered to try. The alcohol may have taken away the throbbing shitty that he felt like before, but it instead replaces it with a dormant shitty that weighs him down. He put on the coat he stole from some person in a bar.

Velyr did very little, but on the list of things that would make either of his companions the least concerned nonchalantly looking out of the window held the first place tightly. 

‘The alcohol’s right there just fucking drink it.’

Of course you would, you lack self control.’ 

He didn’t wanna come out of this shitty room of this abandoned hut in an effort to spare the outside world of having to see any piece of him for as long as possible.

‘How much more dramatic can you get?’

‘You don’t deserve to feel bad for yourself.’ 

He took the bottle in his hands again and with the grace of someone who’d been drinking for a few decades he barely didn’t miss his mouth. The door opened.

“You’re awake? Good! I made an ancient dish with the local vegetables I found, elnia... yarta….osek… y’know the bunch then I covered them with crushed cores of the kiska flowers. When I was getting those I saw a detu and, you won’t believe this, this thing came up to me and I extended my hand and I touched it. It was a really deep feeling, I felt very connected to nature and everything around me, we’re all the same, y’know? Bone and flesh and all… SO I grilled it then and I bet it’ll-” Mal made a gesture with his hand.”-taste ethernal. Come come you’re eating it for sure, my treat!”

“It’ll taste fucking disqusting.” Velyr replied