I'll learn to dance in the rain [korrasami]

14

Asami

The aching in my skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide, yet the pain is always there. I understand at once why they call it a hangover, for it feels as if the blackest of clouds are over my head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.

Blindly, I reach for my phone. My palm comes into contact with the sheets, then nothing and then suddenly a corner of a bedside table. I shuffle closer to the edge of the bed and feel around the top of it, searching. Once I find it, my eyes groggily part and the pounding in my head intensifies as I switch the screen on.

Ignoring the other messages, the time is my only focus.

9:02am

Shit! I'm late!

The sheets are thrown off and I stand up. The room swirls and grip onto the wall to keep myself standing, one palm skimming over the paint on my way to the bathroom whilst the other is rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. This feeling means I had some sort of fun last night but somehow it didn't stay in my memory.

The hangover feels like a balloon under my cranium, slowly being inflated, pressure mounting. I splash cold water on my face just to feel something refreshing and instantly wish I could wash my brain free of the toxins too. The mirror shows my eyes, no longer the glamour girl, a lattice of pink over the white. When my gaze travels further down my body, I get even more confused.

This oversized T-shirt isn't mine, nor are these shorts. My view moves away from the mirror and to the marble counter tops of the bathroom sink, this isn't mine, this shower isn't mine: neither is the toilet.

I become even more confused when I enter the bedroom again. It's not mine that's for certain. My heart drops once I see the crinked up red dress on the floor, heels tossed to the side like it was in some sort of urgency. The comforter on the double bed looks a mess, all tangled up on both sides... Fuck, did I sleep with someone?

My hand finds my hair and I grip fistfuls, hoping that it would somehow help me remember what happened. By the smell of the t-shirt I'm wearing, this is a man's place. Fuck, it wouldn't make a difference if it was a man or a woman... this is bad. I'm late and I don't even know where I am.

Clinks of cutlery coming from the other room makes me perk up. The noise is accompanied by another, a kettle squeeling with high pressure. Someone else is awake in the other room, supposedly the guy that's taken me home. Opening the door slowly, I hide behind it and peak through the small opening that I've made. There he is at the kitchen counter, stirring something in a mug. Back bare with shorts on the bottom, similar to the ones I'm wearing just a different colour. His dark hair is messy from the back but I can't recognise him, not from where I'm standing.

Without thinking I open the door a little more and it makes a noise. A noise loud enough for him to hear. He stops what he's doing and looks over his shoulder and I get a good look at his face. No way.

"Mako?" I gasp, revealing myself completely.

"Oh, good morning Asami." He says, teeth glimmering when he smiles.

I'm too confused to return it. I watch him slip a shirt over himself and settle down on one of the stools. "What... is going on?"

"I thought you'd might forget." He laughs and pats the stool next to him. "Here, come sit down."

Then it comes in flashes when I take a seat. The bar, the drinks, Kuvira and him. I smack my face out of utter frustration. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I shouldn't have had that many drinks, idiot, irresponsible fool. "Oh god." I say, groaning over not only my actions but the pounding headache. It was him wasn't it... With that thought in mind I keep my eyes forward and ask, "Did we sleep together?"