"Ugh..." The pang of a migraine is the first thing Justin notices once he’s awake. It's all a blur, scents and lights coming together as some sort of fever dream of the night before. A puzzling nightmare filled with excesses and bad choices — even though he doesn't recall being completely aware of any of the events that definitely took place.

"Goddamn it." Groaning, feeling like he’s aged at least a decade, he got to his feet and squinted his eyes at the bright sunlight filtering in through the L.A. hotel and got the first glimpse of hell. Destruction, the suite one of your teammates rented for both you and Justin now a picture of insanity. His eyes almost escape their sockets at shredded curtains, the dark smoke coming from the kitchen, the discarded clothes on the floor and... The calm, quiet dog sleeping on the floor in the corner of the room. A stray you’re certain you’ve never seen before.

This is not how it was supposed to go. It was a simple party after the Los Angeles Dodgers game win yesterday against the Minnesota Twins here in L.A., of all places. It was that you got... Distracted by the Dodger’s team’s pitcher. Of course you did… And let your guard down. Which you rarely do. Especially in a sport that requires a high focus of attention. With you being on the opposing team, this could end badly.. and if anyone spots you with Justin, social media will be swarming with posts about the two of you.

"Wake up." His voice comes out dry as a desert, and he pinches the bridge of his nose when you find Justin’s silhouette hovering over you, who was currently laying on the floor beside the bed. You have no idea how you got there but you did. He’s thankful a blanket covers your bare body as if not to see the horrors the night might've casted upon him. Softly, the tip of his foot touches your side, checking he’s still breathing. Thank God. "We're screwed." He whispered.