The Winter Dance and what happened afterwards
Deleted Scene: Alex's Hangover
Alex groaned as he rolled over in his bed. His head was pounding, his mouth dry, his muscles ached, and he felt that he really needed to throw up. He cautiously opened his eyes and in the dim light caused by the morning sunlight peeking through the gaps in the curtains he saw next to his bed an empty bowl, a roll of kitchen paper, a pint glass full of water with a full jug next to it, and a note in his dad's handwriting: 'Drink this, slowly. It'll help you feel better.'
"What the hell happened last night?" he muttered to himself, sitting up just a bit too quickly. He retched and grabbed the bowl, putting it up to his mouth in time for another retch. Nothing came out but it sure felt like it was going to. He tried to recall the previous evening, but it was just an unfocussed blur. He reached out for the glass of water and gingerly sipped. He groaned to himself again as bits and pieces of the night before started coming back to him. He looked down at himself ? he was still wearing the trousers he wore to the dance the night before, but there was no sign of his shirt. His fur was matted and clogged and as he bent down he could smell why: an akrid smell of alcohol and vomit. He put the bowl back up to his mouth in time to catch the contents of his stomach, mostly the water he'd been sipping. He sat still for a few moments, breathing deeply, taking the occasional sip of water. He began to feel slightly better, but as he started to recall more of the night before he began to dread the inevitable conversation with his parents.
Moving slowly, Alex sat on the edge of his bed, and used his bedside table to support himself as he stood up. He felt as week as a baby cub taking his first steps as he hesitantly strode across his room to the door. He wasn't quite ready for the comparitively bright light of the hallway that greeted him as he opened the door, and his head pounded on each blink as his eyes adjusted themselves to the new light. He made his way across the hall to the bathroom, still slow and shaky.
He heard one of the other bedroom doors open.
"You okay Alley?" came Ellie's concerned voice. She hadn't called him Alley for ages; she was the only person who was allowed to.
"I feel like I'm dead," he growled in response. "Probably look it too, don't I?"
"Not gonna lie," Ellie said, still gently but with a hint of amusement, "but yeah, you do."
"Thanks."
As Alex entered the bathroom, he saw his reflection in the mirror and completely agreed with what his sister had said. He did look like death. His matted fur was discoloured, and it wasn't just his chest but his throat and around his mouth. He lifted the toilet seat in time to retch again, but nothing came out. There was a gentle knock at the door. "How are you feeling, Alex?" His dad's voice.
Alex repeated to his dad what he told his sister: "I feel like I'm dead."
"Jump in the shower and clean yourself off, it'll make you feel better."
"Am I in trouble?" Alex asked.
"Clean yourself off, you'll feel better, then we'll chat, okay?"
Alex recognised that as the 'we're not angry, we're disappointed' tone of voice – that arguably was worse.
"Okay." He replied, and heard his father's footsteps descend back down the stairs. He groaned again. All he really wanted to do right now was just sit under the shower head and let the water pour over him, disconnected from the world. He set the shower going to warm up, and started to take the rest of his clothes off, noticing for the first time the rips in his trousers. "What the hell did happen last night?"
