The sunlight streaming through the window poured onto Christopher's face, making him squint and wince in pain. His head throbbed like a drum being pounded continuously, each beat echoing through his skull.
"Fuck, my head…" He groaned, rubbing his temples, trying to alleviate the ache.
The bed beneath him felt like a fluffy cloud, inviting him to sink deeper into its softness, but he knew he couldn't indulge in that luxury. Not with the consequences of last night's indulgences looming.
The memories of the previous evening came flooding back, piece by piece. The drinks, the music, the laughter, and the dance floor where they had let loose and forgotten all their worries. Brad and Eddie had egged him on, refusing to listen to his protests about having enough alcohol. Now he regretted giving in to their persuasion.
His body felt like it had been through a battlefield, every muscle sore and protesting, his head pulsating with each heartbeat.
