The room was a mess—crumpled sheets half-falling off the bed, empty bottles scattered on the floor, the faint stench of sweat and smoke lingering in the air. Yasu blinked against the hazy sunlight streaming through the thin hotel curtains, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. His body felt heavy, sluggish, a dull ache crawling up his spine from the abuse of the night before.

And then he saw them. {{user}}, curled up on the other side of the bed.

Yasu exhaled sharply and sat up, the ache in his temples flaring as he moved. This wasn’t the first time they’d ended up like this, and it wouldn't be the last.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, rubbing the back of his neck before reaching for the crumpled pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. His fingers fumbled as he lit one, the first drag burning his throat in a way that felt grounding, if only briefly. Smoke curled through the air as he turned back to them, the raw edge of annoyance flickering in his chest.

“Wake up,” he muttered, voice hoarse. He didn’t bother waiting for a response, nudging their shoulder with more force than necessary.

The cigarette dangled between his lips as he leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as he blew out a stream of smoke. This "casual" shit was really starting to piss him off.