[And Hikaru just sits there, waiting in grim silence, expecting to die at any moment. Either the hangover is going to finish him off, or Touya will close the distance between them and do it himself. Of course he's ready to blame Touya for going along with his foolhardy challenge, but it's still his fault that they're feeling like shit. The only good thing about getting drunk last night is the fact he had no dreams whatsoever. He didn't dream about lightless rooms, or the silken, vinelike stretch of Sai's hair. He didn't dream about how nothing and no one was going to be able to save him. But spilling all the secrets he did, and waking up to a migraine, and Touya's stomping footsteps, and his mother screaming at him... Overall, he feels like he fucked up pretty bad. A few hours of peace, swaddled in heat, in Touya's presence, doesn't balance that out.
For whatever reason, Touya asks him if he feels any better. His lips come part--and it's audible to his ears, that's how sensitive he is--even before he knows what to say. Then he says,] I feel like a truck ran over me, then backed up, then ran over me again. [Touya, on the other hand... even with his dry eyes, his discolored skin, his hair pulled up all slapdash and damp... even with all of that, he looks like he's ready to tackle anything. Hell, he could go sit for a match and still probably beat the poor bastard who has to deal with him.]
My mother...
[Hikaru starts to shake his head, but he can tell that's only going to give him motion sickness. He stops, sighs to himself, and then swallows the thought entirely. The last time his mother yelled at him like that, it was when he had crossed the road without her permission and almost got hit by a car. Six years old, if he remembers right. Additional proof he's always been an irresponsible piece of shit.
He sighs again and moves his hand away, looking down at the pieces of toast. He looks at them like they've personally wronged him somehow. Then, dubiously, he picks up one piece. He sets it back down.] I'm not hungry, Touya. [Then he picks it up again and starts nibbling along the crispiest edge. No spreads for him. No jams or jellies. Anything more flavorful than this would make his stomach fight its way out of his body.
Oh, that thought from before is bubbling back up his throat, as painful as a wash of stomach acid.]
She told me to apologize for... [How did she put it, again? Oh, yeah:] imposing myself on your hospitality.
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For whatever reason, Touya asks him if he feels any better. His lips come part--and it's audible to his ears, that's how sensitive he is--even before he knows what to say. Then he says,] I feel like a truck ran over me, then backed up, then ran over me again. [Touya, on the other hand... even with his dry eyes, his discolored skin, his hair pulled up all slapdash and damp... even with all of that, he looks like he's ready to tackle anything. Hell, he could go sit for a match and still probably beat the poor bastard who has to deal with him.]
My mother...
[Hikaru starts to shake his head, but he can tell that's only going to give him motion sickness. He stops, sighs to himself, and then swallows the thought entirely. The last time his mother yelled at him like that, it was when he had crossed the road without her permission and almost got hit by a car. Six years old, if he remembers right. Additional proof he's always been an irresponsible piece of shit.
He sighs again and moves his hand away, looking down at the pieces of toast. He looks at them like they've personally wronged him somehow. Then, dubiously, he picks up one piece. He sets it back down.] I'm not hungry, Touya. [Then he picks it up again and starts nibbling along the crispiest edge. No spreads for him. No jams or jellies. Anything more flavorful than this would make his stomach fight its way out of his body.
Oh, that thought from before is bubbling back up his throat, as painful as a wash of stomach acid.]
She told me to apologize for... [How did she put it, again? Oh, yeah:] imposing myself on your hospitality.