Brady's eyes peeled back slowly, feeling like they were resting under a layer of batter. They were wet and sticky, sluggish from the build-up of sleep. It was gross, and the wolf felt gross as he reached a stiff paw up to wipe them clean. Flicking his fingers to be free of the foul goo, the student allowed himself a low groan of pain. His muscles felt sore, aching all over his body. Simply moving that paw to clean his disgusting eye-situation had sent tendrils of pain down his side, the aches ricocheting off his shoulders and spilling out across his chest. It was like being squeezed by a thick claw, and reminded him of a time when he was thirteen and extremely unfit. He'd gone to stay with his grandparents (from his mother's side) and they'd been appalled at how lazy the teenager was. As punishment, his grandfather made the pubescent wolf run laps around a nearby oval, all in all roughly three kilometres of running. Brady felt like it nearly killed him, and the next day he'd awoken feeling all kinds of new hurt. This was somewhat comparable to that, whatever had happened really did a number on him. 

Breathing heavily through his mouth, the wolf flexed his fingers and toes, wiggling them just to make sure everything was still working. His mouth felt dry and his head was a jackhammer, tiny evil workmen slowly digging their way out through his temples, making sure to work even harder whenever he dared try and move. Sighing to himself, the wolf spent the next ten minutes lying still, trying to get his bearings. Even with his eyes shut, the bed underneath him felt like it was moving, floating on a loose axis and careening from side to side. It was a nauseating sensation, and speaking of nausea, his stomach felt a lot like a boxer after some kind of particularly brutal fight. Beaten and bloody, tender to the touch and just about ready to return any kind of food it was assaulted with. Sucking air rapidly in and out of his mouth, Brady cracked his eyes open again, letting some cool morning light into his vision. At first it was all blurry, the rooftop swimming around out of focus, just out of reach from his vision. After he waited a moment, it all began to grow in detail, and Brady noticed for the first time he wasn't in his own bed. His roof at his parent's house was grey; this one was a light cream. It didn't look familiar, and he felt a minor hiccup of anxiety in his chest at being somewhere foreign. Trying his best to stomp it down, he braved the sickening sensation of sitting up, sending everything into a tailspin. His head screamed in protest, demanding he get back into bed, but his bladder fought back twice as hard, insisting he make it to a toilet and soon…or his bed would become a lot less dry.

“Fuckin'…fuck." He murmured, just to hear his own voice more than anything else, exercise his vocal cords. Before pushing off from the bed, the wolf sifted through his memories from the previous night, hoping for some kind of clue as to where he'd woken up. He recalled arriving at Marley's house…he'd brought some of his favourite brand of rum with him…Oliver and the others had been in the main lounge room playing a game or something…Paul, the drug-dealing horse, had given him a drink of bourbon and coke (Mostly bourbon) and then…nothing. Was he at Paul's house maybe? Brady had never really been close with the horse, so it was possible he'd somehow wound up back here and didn't recognise the house. Paul seemed like a nice-enough guy, maybe he'd decided the wolf was far too fucked to ever get home safe. Maybe. There was another reason he might be at Paul's house too. The horse had given him his drink, he had access to lots of drugs apparently…but Brady tried not to think about that. He saw it as…unlikely. Swallowing the ashen lump of nothing in his throat, the wolf slowly and painfully swung his legs out of the bed, sitting woozily on the edge of the mattress. He took the moment to observe his surroundings a little. It was a large-ish bedroom, a desk in one corner and a built-in wardrobe. The walls were a nice off-white, and a large window lay directly in front of him. The ground was a soft, light blue carpet that felt really nice between his toes. He was in a double bed that had patterned grey sheets, ones that in fact lined up strangely with his fur. He giggled internally, staring at his leg that was semi-camouflaged in the doona cover.

While looking at his leg, Brady finally noticed he was only dressed in his boxers. Slightly taken aback, he looked himself over, apart from the missing clothes everything seemed fine…a quick squeeze of his underwear confirming that everything important was still present too. He did let out a slight gasp as he looked over to his right, seeing a large bandage wrapped around his forearm, neatly put together. Having completely zero recollection of the bandage, or even anything that might have caused the bandage to be necessary he found it slightly worrying, but decided to cross that bridge later.

“Okay. Okay. Uh…shit." He muttered, before pushing up from the bed and standing, swaying a little as he did so. The ground seemed weird, super far away and slightly unstable. It was...interesting to look at, if a little bit frightening. Brady was a university student, he'd been hung-over before, but rarely this severely. Normally he was relatively careful, drinking lots of water and sticking to one kind of drink, careful not mix different kinds of alcohols. Apparently, all that good behaviour had gone utterly out the window last night, his brain said fuck it and he'd attempted to consume an entire liquor store. At least that's what it felt like inside his head.

Stumbling a little as he walked, Brady made it to the door, slowly (always slowly) twisting open the doorknob and letting himself out into a hallway. Looking up and down, it seemed he was in a normal suburban house. No fear of being a prisoner in any kind of saw-like game show, which he guessed was a good thing. He opened the closest door across the hall, finding what had to be a laundry. Disappointed, and starting to feel spikes of pain in his midsection, he closed the door and hurried along to the next one, holding a paw out to support himself. This door, thankfully, opened to reveal a small room containing a toilet and sink. Brady quickly scampered inside, slamming the door shut behind him and tearing his underwear down, letting out a sigh as he finally relieved himself. After standing there for what felt like an hour, the wolf was finally finished. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and set out to explore the rest of the house. Ignoring the laundry, and the room he'd come from, the wolf started off down the hallway, following the open end into a small kitchen. It was nice, neat and tidy, utilising the space well. Brady approved of the many hanging things on walls. Someone's been to Ikea. He thought to himself.

“Hey there." Brady nearly jumped out of his fur when the light female voice sounded from behind him, twisting around and almost falling over, the wolf saw a short, very motherly looking cheetah standing in front of him, smiling cheerily.

“Omigod." He blurted, holding the countertop to remain stable. “You scared the shit—uh, I mean the…you frightened me." He said, panting and holding his chest as he recovered from the fright of his life. The cheetah woman just giggled a little.

“Oh, I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you." She said, quickly moving over to the oven, switching on the stovetop that lay above it. As she did, Brady looked down at himself, realising he was practically naked, except for the dark blue boxers.

“I um…couldn't find my clothes, uh…sorry." He stammered, growing red as he realised how exposed he felt. The cheetah just waved a paw at him dismissively.

“I have two sons and a husband, there's nothing there I haven't seen before." She laughed. Brady still felt embarrassed. “Speaking of sons, Max should be back from the store any minute now. He's just grabbing some food for you." He was in Max's house? It had been a fairly solid guess when he saw the cheetah woman, but Brady still thought it a little strange. After all, how the hell did he wind up here? Didn't he and Max have a fight?

“Oh, okay." He replied meekly, leaning on the counter awkwardly and slightly unsure what to do with himself.

“Greasy, fatty foods. It's the only thing that cures a hangover." The cheetah added in her singsong voice, dropping some butter into a frying pan and pushing it around, melting it into the pan. “Looks like you have a right proper one going on too." She added, clicking her tongue, not disapprovingly.

“Right." Brady said slowly. Before he could do anything else, the front door was opened and promptly slammed shut, causing his head to protest painfully and making him wince. After a second, a casually dressed Max wandered into the kitchen, carrying a bag of groceries in one paw. He dropped it onto the counter near (what Brady presumed was anyway) his mother.

“Here ya go." He said, panting a little. Looking out a nearby window, the wolf noticed that it was sunny outside. Must have been a hot walk.

“Your friend is awake buddy." The cheetah added, motioning with her head to Brady. Max turned in surprise, grinning at the wolf, who just waved back pathetically.

“Heya there." Max said merrily. “How'd ya pull up?" Brady closed his eyes, bringing a paw up and rubbing them gently.

“Bad." He said, groaning as he did. Max shot a quick look to his mother, tapping her on the shoulder.

“You right in here Mum?" He asked, half-whispering.

“Yeah I'm good. Food'll be good too, in a few minutes." She replied.

“Cheers." Max added. “Brady, come on into the lounge where we can sit down and relax." The wolf, still with his eyes squeezed shut, felt the cheetah grab his left arm, pulling him into the next room and forcing him to sit down on a large comfy couch. Opening his eyes, Brady watched as Max shut the blinds halfway, cutting the light in two, before sitting down across from him.

“So, um…I have questions." Brady said slowly, his mouth still feeling like it was filled with cement.

“Shoot." Said Max, looking far too happy for Brady's liking. Whenever he felt bad, or sick, the wolf would often be angry at other people for not feeling the same. How dare they? It was a ridiculous notion, his logical brain knew that, but damn it was frustrating.

“Where are my clothes? Why am I not in them?" He said, groggily motioning at his exposed body. Max laughed.

“Oh, right. Um, we just threw them out." He replied, shrugging. Brady opened his eyes incredulously, his jaw dropping a little.

“You what? Why?" He asked. The cheetah just shook his head.

“You don't want 'em, trust me. How uh…how much of last night do you even remember?" He asked.

“I can…remember getting there, if it counts." He said. Max made a kind of 'whoo' noise, clearly trying to make up his mind what to explain first.  

“Okay, well uh…your clothes. Once I got you back here, I pulled them off, fully intending to wash them. But dude…they were so covered in blood and sick, I had'ta destroy them." Max explained. Brady mouthed the word what silently, briefly forgetting he had to speak words out loud.

“What?" He said, adding a light cough for good measure. “Blood? And sick? I'm not…I don't vomit when I'm drunk." The cheetah just shrugged again.

“As for the sick, well…you do now dude. The blood…you seen your arm right?" He pointed at the bandage. Brady nodded slowly, twisting the arm to look at it better. “Maybe I should explain what I saw happen."

“Yeah okay."

“I'll just start at the start. I felt really bad about going off when he had coffee the other day. It was unfair, you were right I guess. I was tossing and turning about it, unsure what I was supposed to do…I was worried you weren't gonna even talk to me anymore. So I thought fuck it, I'll go to the damn party, be nice to Oliver. Actions speak louder than words, right?" He said, gesturing a lot with his paws.

“Sure, okay." Brady added, sitting back into the chair.

“Well, I arrived at around…one in the morning. It was late, I know, but I know how Oliver's parties go. I knew most furs would still be around, you'd at least be there I figured. Turns out I arrived way too late. The music was insanely loud for one, I swear to god the windows were actually shaking."

“Whoa." Was all Brady had to add.

“Anyway, I can hear some kind of shouting from inside, and as I got to the door, right before I was gonna knock...you uh…fell right through the window." He said.

“Wait what? Are you serious?" Brady asked, now sitting forwards, not remembering any of this.

“Yeah. That's how you cut your arm, on a piece of glass as you went through. I tried to help you, but dude you were so fucked off your face. On your knees, blood everywhere, the cut wasn't deep but it sure acted like it, and you just began vomiting, on yourself…the ground, ugh, it was pretty gross."

“Oh shit." Brady said, rubbing his forehead as his face went red, mortified.  

“Marley was standing just inside, I could hear her crying about something. Oliver was just screaming at a blank wall, and in the process of throwing empty beer bottles at it."

“What. The. Fuck." Brady said slowly.

“Yeah, it was fucking insane. Anyway, that horse guy, the big stallion? Um…" Max struggled for his name, spinning his paw around trying to think of it.

“Paul?" Brady added.

“Yeah, Paul. Anyway, Paul comes out the front door, takes me aside. Asks me if I know you, I said yeah. He tells me I need to just get you away, cause you're so fucked and making it all worse."

“Making what worse?" Brady asked.

“From what he said, it looked like Oliver had a couple tabs of acid, and was having a bad trip."

“Ah, that's not good."

“Yeah." The cheetah nodded. “So you tried to fight me off a little, but I eventually managed to drag you back here. Wasn't about to bring your clothes inside, so I ripped them off, chucked 'em in the garbage and then got you in. Dumped you in my bed, slept here on the couch." He said, finally resting back. The wolf sighed deeply, trying to somehow process it all. A suspicious part of him wondered if Max was lying, but why would he?

“You know if Oliver is okay?" He asked. The cheetah shrugged.

“No idea, I just tried to get you out of there, which was hard enough."

“Ugh, sorry about that. I literally remember nothing." Brady replied, his face flushing red yet again.

“It's fine, we're all idiots shit-faced." Max said, smirking. Brady nodded, wincing from the lingering pain in his neck. He lightly massaged his joints, rolling his shoulders to try and ease everything up a little.

“What about like, my phone and wallet and stuff?" He asked, letting out a slight groan as something in his neck popped.

“Fished 'em out of your pants, they're on that little table by my bed." Max explained, right as his mother came in, holding two plates of food. She passed the boys one each, and Brady grinned at the selection of bacon, fried eggs and greasy hash browns. Drunken student comfort food. The two ate greedily in silence, resting their plates on their laps, cutlery clinking away as it scratched the ceramic. After they were finished, Brady's stomach felt much more settled, but his head was still subject to tremors like an internal earthquake. Max merrily ferried their dirty dishes to the kitchen, dumping them in the sink before returning to his wolf friend.

“Uh, hey." Brady said, climbing unsteadily to his feet. Still somewhat aware he was barely dressed. “Would it be okay if I uh…crashed in your bed a bit longer? I just need a few more hours sleep is all. I'm so wrecked." He asked, face red. The cheetah laughed, nodding.

“Yeah, it's like one in the afternoon Brady, I'm not using it. Go for your life." He replied, following after the wolf to make sure he got back okay. Brady paused at the door to Max's bedroom, hesitating sightly, before turning around and quickly wrapping the cheetah in a hug.

“Thanks dude, I really appreciate your help. Sorry I got so…sorry I snapped at you." He mumbled. Max was a bit taken aback, but then slowly pulled his paws up to Brady's back, embracing him in return.

“No worries mate. It's all good. You go get some rest." He said, patting the wolf lightly on the shoulder, before he disappeared into the dark room. The bed sheets still retained some warmth when Brady slipped back into them, pulling the soft doona up over his head and groaning to himself as he slowly descended back into pleasant unconsciousness. He didn't dream of anything, waking up what felt like several hours later to a buzzing on the side of the bed. Blue light spilled out onto the walls, emanating from what he guessed was his mobile. Swearing to himself, the wolf reached over and pulled the device into his paw. Looking at the screen, the first thing he did was lower the brightness. The glowing screen light was piercing, blinding him for a moment. After recovering from his 'trauma', the wolf noticed he had a long list of notifications. Missed calls from his parent's home phone, plus a bunch of text messages. He opened his messages centre to see the most recent one, which was surprisingly from his brother Jake.

Answer ur fucking phone, where are u? It read. Brady tried to type a response, failed miserably, tried again, this time somewhat slower.

At friends. Hungover. Whats wrong? He wrote, tapping send. After a moment the phone beeped as Jake's reply bounced back.

Oh ok. Mum and Dad are really worried is all. He said.

They knew I wouldn't be back. Brady replied, slightly annoyed. He'd been expecting to crash at Oliver's place, and wasn't due back at his parents until sometime the next afternoon from the party. Technically that was around now, but it still no reason for alarm.

I think it's more about what happened with Oliver. Jake sent back. Brady's heart rate picked up, anxiety suddenly clouding his mind.

What's wrong with Oliver? He ok? The wolf stared intensely at his phone screen for a moment, watching the 'now typing' icon from Jake like a hawk. After a second, the device beeped, and the younger brother's message was there.

He's in jail.