I'm saying "Fuck this!"

                                    

                                          
Pov. Hilja
It's the slightly booming pain that wakes me up and makes me toss and turn in bed. The little sunlight that falls into the room makes me sigh, so that I quickly let myself fall with my face on the pillow and thus a pleasant darkness adorns my field of vision again. Only one tiny detail startles me. Just one breath and I open my eyes. It's just the smell that brings me back to reality and makes me realize that I'm not lying in my bed. The moment I get back to reality, I remember last night again. At least I don't have a black out.
Although maybe I do, because as if it wasn't enough to wake up in another bed, I notice that I'm not wearing my hoodie and what's even more uncomfortable is the feeling that comes over my legs when I realize that I'm not wearing my jeans anymore either. My heart stops for a few moments, until I dare to slowly lift my head from pillows and look carefully around me. First to the left, then to the right. A little relieved, I drop my head back on the pillow. There was no sign of him anywhere. Maybe he had slept on the couch? Somehow I try to calm down with my thoughts, which more or less works. Okay, let's be honest, it helps rather less.
"You're awake too, prinsessa?", the rough and raspy voice, makes me cringe slightly. And I was hoping to wake up without an annoying guest. Bad luck I would say. Slowly I turn around, but remain snuggled deep in the blanket. Carefully, I open my eyes and try to ignore the light that bothers my eyes. Fortunately, I quickly find a point of view in which the annoying Fin can be useful and serves as a light protector for me. "How about breakfast in bed?", I notice from his voice that he couldn't have been awake for too long, or has spoken too much.
I skilfully ignore his suggestion. "Why didn't you bring me to my place?", I ask and unintentionally begin to scrutinize my counterpart. A little taken aback, he stands infront of the bed and holds a tray table in his hands, if you can call it that. The long blond hair is completely messed up and lies wildly on and in his face. Slowly, my gaze diverges downwards and meets his naked torso, in which abdominal muscles are slightly drawn. Not strong, but still recognizable.
When he puts down the tray and sits down on the edge of the bed, my gaze wanders back to his face, from which he now brushes his hair back. "I don't know, but maybe it's because I know my address. I think it's a bit harder to give an address in a cab that you don't know yourself.", he remarks with a grin. Inwardly, I put my hand infront of my face. Why do I have to be so stupid, so seriously now, why? "You could have asked me.", I try to talk my way out of it, but it doesn't work aswell as expected. "Yes, I could, but you were so drunk and pissed off because I saved your life that you wouldn't have told me anything anyway. And you can't deny that!"
My answer is a roll of my eyes when the next question comes up in me. "But that's no reason to change my hoodie and take off my pants. Seriously, if I wanted to, I could report you." There is only a brief laugh from Joel before he starts talking: "I knew you would react like that. I knew you'd hate me for it, but believe me, I never had anything in mind for you to report me. Do you remember that you were vomiting?". In response to his question, I just nod and cross my arms infront of my chest. "You fell asleep so quickly afterwards that you didn't notice that you had stained your clothes. My background thought was just that I didn't want to let you sleep in clothes full of puke. So I took the biggest hoodie I could find and put it on you. Your things are already in the wash, should be dried in about an hour.", he explains at the end and looks at me expectantly.
A few seconds of silence pass, during which Joel's expression does not change. "What?", I ask, more annoyed than I wanted. "'I'm sorry Joel that I thought you wanted to harass me, although of course you would never do that. Thank you for putting me to bed safely and making sure I don't get a hangover. I'm the worst and stupidest friend in the world and I'm happy to be able to have breakfast with you now.'", again he imitates my voice way too high. Unintentionally, the corners of my mouth bend upwards millimetre by millimetre and no matter how hard I fight against it, I can't help but smile. "Although you can't say breakfast at half past 3, but we'll leave it that way," he adds in a normal voice, frowning.