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Description
Pewdie’s eyes cracked open, and he let out a quiet groan of discomfort.
He felt sticky, hot...
All in all, gross.
The Swede stood from the bed he was strewn out on, fanning his shirt by plucking at his, letting air flow up against his torso.
Pewdie ran a hand through his hair, a dull thump-thump-thump in his ears as his heartbeat pounded along with his head.
He hissed a curse, recognizing this as a hangover. How drunk did he get last night? And how did he even get home?
Cry couldn’t have hailed a cab, he couldn’t speak Swedish... He must’ve walked the drunk man.
Pewdie chuckled at the thought of Cry dragging him down the street, cursing and yelling at him to walk and not stop every five seconds.
He allowed a smile, then grabbed some clothes from the dresser. A shower would be nice, a cold one at that, even though there was a thin sheet of snow outside.
What month was it again?
December, starting on January?
Pewdie grunted low with a sigh and moved his way to the bathroom to strip, wavering since Cry might be lurking around somewhere.
He got to the bathroom door, reaching for the knob when a familiar voice called his name from the living room.
“You’re finally awake... It must be noon.” Cry said, holding a glass of something.
“You got pretty drunk last night...” Cry murmured, recalling everything that happened with a slight blush.
Pewdie let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging. “Ye-heah... Sorry about that.” Pewdie murmured, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m going to take a quick shower; Make yourself at home.” he said after a moment, then walked into the bathroom, leaving Cry alone in the hall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cry shook his head lightly, leaning against the wall and huffed. He drank down the glass of water quickly, his throat dry.
He should have told Pewds instead of just, “You got pretty drunk last night.” Heh, idiot, you’re an idiot, Cry.
What would he say anyway?
‘Oh, hey Pewds, last night you got drunk and I had to get your keys from your back pocket... Oh, no, that’s not all, of course. When you touched my back, I got- wait for it -aroused!’
He mentally scolded himself, before pushing off the wall and walking into the living room, collapsing on the couch.
He looked over at his hand, still cautiously holding the now half full glass of water. That was the reason he came in the first place...
To tell the Swedish man how he felt about him. God, when Marzia moved out, the joy he felt was indescribable.
Of course, Marzia was such a sweet girl, perfect for Pewds, really. Beautiful, too. But... She wasn’t Cry.
And that, of course, made Cry feel horrible. It took all his strength to even tell Pewdie he was coming to see him, but tell him he loved him more than he could know? Horrendous.
He sighed, hearing the tab turn on. It was Pewdie’s fault he felt this badly... But trying not to love someone is harder than anyone would know.
But Pewdie was straight, he had had girlfriends. Cry, on the other hand, had never had anything...
Maybe the petty Middle School crushes girls had on him years ago. He dated them because he didn’t care.
Isn’t it irony that now he cares probably too much? He snorted to himself, running a hand down his face.
Maybe the television could distract him for awhile...
Being left alone with his thoughts was becoming unnerving.
~~~~~~~
There was no use.
The television didn’t help, there were only Swedish shows on their anyway, different versions and such.
Hunger didn’t cause butterflies in your stomach, did it? Probably not... He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that hour.
When Pewdie got out of the shower, he would approach him, sit him down, and tell him everything... Right?
Curse his procrastinator nature, it was horrible sometimes.
He had a week, right? He could be dramatic and tell him at the airport like a bad seventies movie. Yes, that seemed good enough...
He snorted, chuckling at how idiotic he was acting. But what do you do when you have a crush on your best friend who’s also male?

Description
Pewdie’s eyes cracked open, and he let out a quiet groan of discomfort.
He felt sticky, hot...
All in all, gross.
The Swede stood from the bed he was strewn out on, fanning his shirt by plucking at his, letting air flow up against his torso.
Pewdie ran a hand through his hair, a dull thump-thump-thump in his ears as his heartbeat pounded along with his head.
He hissed a curse, recognizing this as a hangover. How drunk did he get last night? And how did he even get home?
Cry couldn’t have hailed a cab, he couldn’t speak Swedish... He must’ve walked the drunk man.
Pewdie chuckled at the thought of Cry dragging him down the street, cursing and yelling at him to walk and not stop every five seconds.
He allowed a smile, then grabbed some clothes from the dresser. A shower would be nice, a cold one at that, even though there was a thin sheet of snow outside.
What month was it again?
December, starting on January?
Pewdie grunted low with a sigh and moved his way to the bathroom to strip, wavering since Cry might be lurking around somewhere.
He got to the bathroom door, reaching for the knob when a familiar voice called his name from the living room.
“You’re finally awake... It must be noon.” Cry said, holding a glass of something.
“You got pretty drunk last night...” Cry murmured, recalling everything that happened with a slight blush.
Pewdie let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging. “Ye-heah... Sorry about that.” Pewdie murmured, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m going to take a quick shower; Make yourself at home.” he said after a moment, then walked into the bathroom, leaving Cry alone in the hall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cry shook his head lightly, leaning against the wall and huffed. He drank down the glass of water quickly, his throat dry.
He should have told Pewds instead of just, “You got pretty drunk last night.” Heh, idiot, you’re an idiot, Cry.
What would he say anyway?
‘Oh, hey Pewds, last night you got drunk and I had to get your keys from your back pocket... Oh, no, that’s not all, of course. When you touched my back, I got- wait for it -aroused!’
He mentally scolded himself, before pushing off the wall and walking into the living room, collapsing on the couch.
He looked over at his hand, still cautiously holding the now half full glass of water. That was the reason he came in the first place...
To tell the Swedish man how he felt about him. God, when Marzia moved out, the joy he felt was indescribable.
Of course, Marzia was such a sweet girl, perfect for Pewds, really. Beautiful, too. But... She wasn’t Cry.
And that, of course, made Cry feel horrible. It took all his strength to even tell Pewdie he was coming to see him, but tell him he loved him more than he could know? Horrendous.
He sighed, hearing the tab turn on. It was Pewdie’s fault he felt this badly... But trying not to love someone is harder than anyone would know.
But Pewdie was straight, he had had girlfriends. Cry, on the other hand, had never had anything...
Maybe the petty Middle School crushes girls had on him years ago. He dated them because he didn’t care.
Isn’t it irony that now he cares probably too much? He snorted to himself, running a hand down his face.
Maybe the television could distract him for awhile...
Being left alone with his thoughts was becoming unnerving.
~~~~~~~
There was no use.
The television didn’t help, there were only Swedish shows on their anyway, different versions and such.
Hunger didn’t cause butterflies in your stomach, did it? Probably not... He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that hour.
When Pewdie got out of the shower, he would approach him, sit him down, and tell him everything... Right?
Curse his procrastinator nature, it was horrible sometimes.
He had a week, right? He could be dramatic and tell him at the airport like a bad seventies movie. Yes, that seemed good enough...
He snorted, chuckling at how idiotic he was acting. But what do you do when you have a crush on your best friend who’s also male?