Sunlight. Though a commonly welcomed sight in the morning, Charles can't help but hate the world for turning and shifting from night to day. His head was pounding, his eyes burned, his mouth felt dry. Never before had he felt this terrible when he was hungover, nor does he think he had ever been able to remember this little. He rolled over in bed and buried his face in the pillows in a desperate attempt to block out the light and protect his eyes from the scorching pain.

Think, Charles, he reluctantly told himself. However, thinking was the last thing that he wanted to be doing right then. What do you remember?

Unfortunately, not much. He remembered being dragged out of the mansion early in the evening by Sean, Alex, and Hank. He remembered entering a bar, some local dive that he thankfully can't recall the name of. It had a filthy air about it, added to by the sticky floors and tables and the stench of old beer that hung in the air. He couldn't fathom why the boys were so intent on drinking here as opposed to another place, but they had already ordered and he figured it wouldn't be so bad after a few drinks.

He was right. After a few hours, Charles had lost count of how many shots he had taken. The boys were giggling wildly and falling about the place, and if he remembered correctly, he could have sworn that Hank and Alex had kissed at least once while Sean chatted up some girl in the corner. Charles could recall how badly his head had been spinning. He remembered stumbling out the door, followed closely by Sean, whom he had to drag away from the girl, and Hank and Alex walking hand in hand.

After that, it was blank.

He sighed and tried to open his eyes, but decided against it. It was too painful. Strangely enough, that's not all that was hurting… his ass hurt like never before. Had he gotten into a fight last night? He attempted to test out his other body parts, moving limbs without getting out of bed. Nothing hurt, but oh God, his butt was on fire. He finally sat up, and almost cried out in pain.

"Goddammit," he gasped. The pain was unbearable. He stumbled out of bed, barely surprised by the fact that he was still wearing the same pants as last night. He unbuckled his belt and slid his pants off, then staggered into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he pulled down his boxers… and suddenly felt like throwing up.

There, on his butt, in a large curly black font, was one word… Erik.

Quickly, he pulled his boxers back up, horrified that someone had somehow, someway, seen it.

Oh God, did the boys know?

Please God no please don't let them know, Charles thought to himself, squinting his eyes and rubbing at his temples. He looked at his face in the mirror, at his bloodshot eyes and his borderline greasy hair.

"Well," he mumbled, "fuck."

He decided that at this point, the best thing for him to do was to clean himself up and pretend that none of this had happened. He turned around and picked his pants up off the ground, taking care to fold them and place them on the counter. The shower was calling to him, promising hot water and cleanliness, both of which he desperately needed right now. He turned the handle to the side, watching as the steaming water poured out of the showerhead and trying his best not to think about his ass. He stepped into the shower, wincing as the water poured over his body and the fresh tattoo.

As he lathered shampoo into his hair, he wondered how you're supposed to care for a tattoo, exactly. Was there special soap? Could you even use soap? Unfortunately, he knew surprisingly little about the upkeep involved with body modification.

After a few minutes, he decided he was clean enough to be presentable and climbed out of the shower. He threw a towel around his waist and combed his hair back, hoping he looked presentable enough to join the rest of the household for breakfast. He left the bathroom and searched through his closet for a pair of pants and a crisp shirt, then pulled them on. As he tugged his pants on, his rear smarted and he bit his lip to keep from making pained noises.

And with that, he left his room.