[2/15] morning after

[thisfaceismine]

Though hardly a stranger to hangovers, this one it seems, is particularly heinous.

There's a ringing at his door, the sound piercing through the fog in his brain as he buries a groan into his pillow. His entire body aches, his muscles heavy and he closes his eyes tight against the bad dreams that have apparently decided to pervade his conscious thoughts.

"Fuck off," he grumbles when the bell sounds again, followed quickly by a firm, but polite knock.

Groaning loudly then, Freddie shoves his covers off his shoulders and swings his legs to the floor, frowning against the immediately intense pounding in his head. "I said fuck off," he growls though he's already padding his way through his flat, clad in the same pair of briefs and dress shirt from the night before. He'd gotten as far as unbuttoning, it seems, before he'd given up.

He doesn't bother checking the eyelet to see who's bothering him so early and his lips twist into a confused frown when he finds Noah on the other side, beaming up at him.

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[iwasmore]

Noah's expression falters when Freddie answers the door, taking in his sleep-rumpled, disheveled form. "So I guess this is why you didn't show up to brunch," he says, his expression sympathetic instead of judgmental. When he'd been waiting at the cafe and Freddie didn't answer his texts (he only sent two, at least) he'd wondered if he made the entire thing up. Or that Freddie had realized he was making a mistake and had changed his mind. Or that he'd fallen in the bathtub and broken his neck. Noah's thoughts had gotten downright ridiculous, which is why he figured he'd just come over and see what was up.

He holds up a small bag in one hand, a coffee in the other. "I got you a fresh coffee and a bagel. Should I just come by later, maybe?"