Luca woke to sunlight stabbing through his skull and his neck at an impossible angle.
He was on the couch. Noel was beneath him, one arm draped across his back, breathing slowly.
His head pounded. His mouth tasted like regret and cheap beer.
"Noel," he croaked.
"No."
"We have to get up."
"No."
"It's graduation day."
Noel's eyes opened slowly, squinting against the light. "Oh god."
"Yeah."
They extracted themselves from each other carefully, every movement causing pain.
Luca's phone showed eight forty-three. Ceremony started at eleven.
"We have time," he said, not entirely convinced.
"Barely."
They stumbled to the kitchen. Noel filled two glasses of water, handed one to Luca. They drank in synchronized misery.
"Why did we do that?" Noel asked.
"Because we're idiots."
"Accurate."
"Also we were fighting."
"About laundry."
"The stupidest fight."
"Agreed."
