I woke up and automatically knew something was wrong.
Not because I felt bad.
Because I didn't.
No hangover. No lingering fog. No ache behind my eyes.
Just... empty.
Which was weird because I drank enough to kill a regular person by myself. I turned my head. The room felt bigger. He was gone. I stared at the empty spot on my bed for a second longer than I should've, then rolled onto my back.
"Right," I muttered. "That's normal."
It shouldn't have bothered me. It did anyway.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"TYLER!"
I shot upright. "Lance?" He kept banging on the door.
I got up and flung the door open. "What the hell?"
"Oh good! You are ok!" Lance sighed in relief. That smell. What is it? "It looks like there's blood traces on your door so I was worried that a stalker got you."
"What?" I asked looking at my door. There was indeed blood there, smeared in a messy arc. It smelled faintly of vanilla.
Lucas.
