[It was rather late at night by the time Takatora had dragged himself out his room. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since he'd gone in the night before. Many of the hours afterwards had been spent with Ryouma keeping him awake, though Takatora could remember almost nothing of what had happened between them. He could barely remember Ryouma calling him, noting how upset he seemed and asking in Takatora wanted him to come over, 'because you always hate being alone.' Apparently, he'd fallen for that.
Despite not being able to remember much, Takatora could tell his body stung, but any marks he had were conveniently hidden as long as he kept his clothes on. He had wandered down to the kitchen to reheat his food, but even after the beep had sounded from the microwave, Takatora was still sitting at the counter with his head resting on his arms, trying to find the energy to move.
The entire previous night was an unfortunate blur. He wasn't sure he would want to remember any of it, but at least Ryouma had ducked out a few hours earlier out of boredom and 'needing to get work done.' However, Ryouma was right. Takatora always hated being alone.]
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Despite not being able to remember much, Takatora could tell his body stung, but any marks he had were conveniently hidden as long as he kept his clothes on. He had wandered down to the kitchen to reheat his food, but even after the beep had sounded from the microwave, Takatora was still sitting at the counter with his head resting on his arms, trying to find the energy to move.
The entire previous night was an unfortunate blur. He wasn't sure he would want to remember any of it, but at least Ryouma had ducked out a few hours earlier out of boredom and 'needing to get work done.' However, Ryouma was right. Takatora always hated being alone.]