The first thing Leon notices when he stirs from a fitful sleep is how bright his room is—so goddamned bright that he curses under his breath, groaning. The second thing he notices, with mild confusion, is that he isn’t actually in his bedroom at all. He sits up in bed, and it doesn’t take long for Leon to recognize where he is. He doesn’t know if it’s all last night’s alcohol roiling in his stomach, or a sudden gnawing sense of anxiety, but he feels momentarily sick to his stomach. He glances at the sleeping figure beside him, but he doesn’t have to pull back the blanket to know who you are.

He’s woken up in his best friend’s bed, hungover as piss, with only the vaguest idea of what happened. And no clue how to handle this.