Truth Is Harsher Under The Morning Sun

^-^

The sun had gone ahead on its day with altitude high enough in the sky for ohayo to no longer be an appropriate greeting. While she was still in bed - slowly dying because of a hangover.

The marching band in her head was in the climax of their performance, a slight movement was like being thrown around in a ship under a raging storm. 'Fuck!' She tightly closed her eyes, letting the nausea ebb as she tried to recall what regrets she had added to her pile of - 'regrets done under the influence of alcohol'.

"I should stop drinking to oblivion," she muttered under her breath. A lie and the first regret.

She tried to breathe slowly through her nose while taking a deep breath through her mouth. The queasy feeling in her stomach slowly fades, yet, she didn't dare move. The stomach-churning of a hangover is an effing traitor!

The moment you thought it was all sunshine and unicorns bouncing in the big fluffy clouds in the sky, was the moment bile would halt your fun.

That's what she was trying to avoid. Vomiting due to alcohol is plain nasty. You can taste the bitterness of your own vomit while you retch, hugging the toilet bowl is something that is beyond disgusting.

She's not saying she didn't live through any of those because - she did! When she was no longer drunk, she avoided at all costs going through that awful experience.

It's bearable if you were still out of your mind due to alcohol because frankly, you don't have a choice. When your body wants to gag it will.

But now that she has somewhat control over her body, she was gawking like a fish taken out of water doing a breathing exercise to keep her body from puking.

She lay on her futon laid on top of a box spring. She always likes this combination for she gets the best the two kinds of bed could offer.

She was still one with the futon when she heard the soft knocking on her door.

"Don't ever dare enter, and I beg of you, please leave me alone! Let me have a moment of peace before I die."

She was expecting Bella to retreat away from her door, but she heard the door creaking as it was pushed open. She clicked her tongue and readied herself to spew all the curses she knew.

"Stop being so melodramatic, Laurie. You are too old for that shit!"

"Well, look who's here, visiting me on my deathbed. It's none other than Andrei Mark Fucking Tan!" Her voice was laced with enough sarcasm to make anyone think twice of approaching her.

Sadly, her bitchiness doesn't really work with Andrei. She slowly opened her eyes and saw him leaning on her door frame, his buff arms were folded under his muscled chest.

He was clad in a thin cotton white dress shirt tucked-in in his soft brown pants. His hair was unruly as ever. It never ceased to give the illusion of being thoroughly rake and with how his lashes frame his eyes, anyone would think that his hair got messed up doing something extremely pleasing.

"Andrei, why couldn't we just get married?"

He pushed himself away from the door, reached her bed in a jiffy, and cupped her face, tilted it from side to side, which made her feel like she was back in the boat under surge with giant waves.

She groaned in protest. "Fuck off!"

"My God! You must be truly dying, spewing this blasphemous thing of us getting married! Haven't you learned your lesson?"

"Stop it, please. Stop fucking shaking me like a freaking cocktail!" She jerked up from the bed and scampered to the far end of her bed, away from Andrei.

"Why am I not permitted to speak about the sacrilege of our engagement? Have you forgotten that it was I - who was jilted and left alone to bear the shame of what could be the wedding of the century?"

"How long would you use this shit against me, Laurie?" he asked in disgust with her poor acting skills.

"Well, until it no longer served its purpose."

"And what purpose does it serve, if I may ask, forever will be a Miss Crisostomo?"

"Fuck you! Don't rub the fact of me being single forever," she shot him a death glare as she pulled her legs closer to her chest, leaning on the headrest of her bed.

"Oh, so you, being single now hurts your kokoro?"

She scoffed and cast her gaze out the window. "Why are you here?"

"Of course, to see your misery!" he chuckled, watching her getting pissed. "Here, a peace offering."

She looked down at what he threw on the bed - a cold bottle of macchiato. She likes her coffee made from freshly ground beans but whenever she is hungover a store-bought bottled coffee does the trick for her.

"Thanks! A good-looking man, thoughtful and sweet, filthy rich, with a prospective mother-in-law that questionably adores me. You are just too perfect for me Andrei. Where did we go wrong?"

A chuckle dripping with sarcasm came to her lips as she twisted the cap of the bottled coffee, sipped the holy grail of her hangover.

"You forgot the most important part. It's the part that made it impossible for us to be the best couple."

"And what is it? Your gay ass?" she snorted.

"No, Laurie. The fact that we don't love each other romantically."

"Huh!" she huffed, "Who needs romantic love? Those kinds of love tragically lead to suicides and murders! The stupidity of needing romantic love! Just give me your black credit card, and I will have my happily ever after."

"Why would you need anyone else's black credit card when you have your own and yet you are miserable as ever."

She met Andrei's soft gaze, "Baby girl, tell me who broke your heart? When did you become such a bore? Did it happen after you tore apart my innocent heart?"

Andrei avoided her meticulous gaze.

'Ah, it hit home.'