Hungover Glory: The sequel to Drunken Glory

By: Emily Maybanks 

Read Drunken Glory here.


I open my eyes and immediately shut them after being blinded by bright sunlight flooding through the tiniest gap in the navy curtains. My head is spinning and there’s a strong nauseating feeling in my stomach. It takes me a few moments for the rest of my senses to awaken and I realise that I’m lying in a bed but with no memory of getting to bed. I groan a little; the last thing I remember is our lips dancing in perfect harmony. I must have been very drunk; perhaps too drunk. Your gentle breathing beside me suddenly makes me realise that I’m not alone. Forcing my eyes open and trying not to throw up, I push myself into a sitting position and feel even more confused when I discover that all I’m wearing is my underwear. I swear under my breath and tears sting my eyes. As quietly as I can, I climb out of your bed and pull on one of your oversized t-shirts; it falls to my knees and I exit your room and heading outside onto your little balcony, breathing in the cooler, fresher air. I lose track of time, standing alone, lost deep in my thoughts and memories but I jump as I feel your arms snake around my waist from behind and your lips touch my neck momentarily.

“Good morning,” You whisper seductively, “How are you?”

“What happened last night?” I demand, my heart racing, turning to face you. You look crestfallen. I feel bad but I have to know that nothing more than a kiss was shared between us.

“We kissed and then you started to feel sick, so we came back here and you were sick so I managed to take your clothes off and put you to bed. What did you think happened?” There’s a hint of hurt command in that question.

“I just remember you kissing me,” I mumble, shyly, feeling embarrassed, “I’m sorry,”

“You think I took advantage of you?” You whisper, your tone indicating that you can’t believe I would even think that. I shake my head which makes the world spin horribly. I press my hand to my forehead.

“I didn’t say that,” I say, quietly, “I just. I don’t know. This whole situation is a mess,”

“Why?” You ask, confused. I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated and upset.

“It just is,” I moan, “I’m a mess. Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life until the evening and you came to me and then we just did what we did. Spending that time with you, it was perfect. Our glory; our drunken glory; it was amazing but, I’m a mess and that’s the problem!”

“Hun, you’re bound to be emotional and confused at the moment, but you’re totally not a mess. It’s natural. And I’m sorry that I kissed you. The thing is; seeing how brave you’ve been through everything; it’s made me fall for you even more. I love you and it hurts that you might not feel the same. And, I understand that this is a difficult time for you, I do; and I would never ever pressure you into anything. Stuff it, we can remain friends if that’s what you want, but my feelings for you have never and will never change,”

I’m stunned at your outburst; shocked but something in me feels excited also. In my dazed, overwhelmed hungover state, I stumble back into your arms, and in your hold, I break down. My tears soak your shirt as I sob helplessly against your shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I mumble, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,”

“Forget how you think you’re supposed to feel,” You say, gently, “How do you feel?”

“Upset about yesterday,” I reply, miserably, “But, also happy with you, safe with you, in love with you. I love you too. Most of all, I’m exhausted,”

“How did you feel when I kissed you?” You ask tentatively.

“Like I was on top of the world; it was glorious,” I admit, smiling weakly. Your hand rests upon my soaking wet cheek,

“We can take things as slow as you need to,” You murmur, your face inches from mine and I stare into your enticing eyes, which glitter with adoration and admiration. Automatically, I wrap my arms around your neck, resting one hand on the back of your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath my fingertips as the fingers of my other hand play cautiously with the strands of your hair.

“Life is too short to have regrets isn’t it?” I mumble, thoughtfully, “I’ve learnt that the hard way. I don’t want to regret anything. I love you.” The smile that curls around your lips is breath taking and my heart flutters. With my head still spinning and my heart pounding, I close my eyes as my mouth meets yours. For a few glorious moments, under the increasing warmth of the morning sun in the clear pale blue sky, we’re completely lost in the heat of the moment. Your arm slides around my waist as you pull me closer against you.

“Wow,” I breathe when we eventually break apart, needing air.

“Glory,” You whisper, sweetly before chuckling, “Hey, if last night was drunken glory, what was that?”

“Hungover glory,” I reply, giggling, “Beautiful hungover glory,”

“You should go and get some rest,” You speak gently, “You can stay here if you like,” I shake my head,

“I’ll go back to mine; I need a shower and some fresh clothes,” I say, gratefully, “Thank you though,”

As I head back to my flat, I walk by the spot where we were lying last night and the memory of our drunken glory floods through my brain, making my heart soar. I wish that I could stand there forever and re-live the moment but I feel that if I don’t have some water soon, hungover glory might be all I have to remember before the hangover metaphorically kills me. I smile. Hungover glory.


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