Aphephobia

I had no clue Mikey had aphephobia; and even if I did -- I would’ve been too drunk to care. After convincing him to get shit wrecked, like me, I finally got him on the dance floor. I was too drunk to identify the song blasting from the stereo. Sloppily, I moved my hips against Mikey’s ass. More drinks, more dancing. The dancing got sloppier; but I didn’t notice. It felt too good, the more we danced, the more I wanted to get out of here. More dancing eventually lead to a cab home, and my bedroom. Thank god, because I was nearly positive I couldn’t wait any longer. It was a surprise to me that I hadn’t become a mess of vomit, hunched over my toilet -- although, I was sure that would come in the morning, along with the curse of a hangover.

I woke from the dead, I could’ve jumped three feet into the air when I heard an ear piercing scream. I was too young to die from a heart attack, right? I instantly clasped my hands over the mouth that was making the noise, sitting up so I could slowly come to, and understand what was going on. My head didn’t just hurt, it was pounding. I felt like something was driving nails into my skull. Not only that; but I felt sick. Before I could second guess myself, I was up, out of bed and running into my bathroom. My stomach convulsed, trying to drain the poison out of my body. Once the contents of my stomach had been thrown up, it didn’t stop. Up came bile until my throat burned, along with my head.

After getting over that, I began to realize who the fuck was actually in my bed. Although, it was strange to see the boy without glasses, he was still recognizable. “Holy shit,” I babbled. “Oh, fucking shit!” I weakly got up from the bathroom floor and found my boxers laying by the bed. I pulled them on, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I just slept with Mikey Way. Mikey looked terrified, and I’m sure I did, too. “Coffee,” I said. “I need coffee.”