Annoying At Its Finest

sixteen

He woke up with a very terrible, terrible hangover. His head rang, and he. can't even have the strength to get up. Slowly opening his eyes, he spotted a glass of water on his bedside table. He reached out and sat up. His whole body felt heavy and tired.

"I swear I'll never drink again."

He drank all of the water and laid down again. He slowly started sobering up as he remembered the night before. Despite being called an idiot, he remembers quite well.

First, he was with Shoko. Then some girl came up to him. His head turned to the side and relief washed over him as he realized there was no one there. He didn't bring home anyone. The thought of letting someone else use this bed was disgusting.

Stretching, he sat back up again. He tapped around his bed, trying to find his shirt. It was not found tangled in his sheets. It also wasn't on the floor.

"Was I responsible when I was drunk?" he whispered to himself. It was strange how he has a glass of water beside him and his shirt not messily on the floor.

A knock sounded from the door. He was not in the right to sense anything, but the knock sobered him enough to. The other side of th door sent a chill down his spine.

"Are you still not up? The soup will go cold!"

Is this another dream again?

"Utahime?"

Within a second, he was by the door. His eyes zoned in on the doorknob. He was hesitant to open it. What if it was yet another dream? What will he do if he opens this door and there was no one? Or what if he opens this door, and Utahime will be there, but he wakes up?

Another know came, louder this time. It was like a car alarm to his still sensitive ears. But he doesn't care. He didn't mind the pain his head filled with when he ran to the door.

"Satoru, I feel your presence on the other side of this very door. If you don't open it this instant, I will break this with a metal chair."

Then he realized. The difference between his dream and this is how harsh and sharp with words she sounds. This is how she really speaks to him.

The doorknob clicked as it unlocked. Those few milliseconds it took for it to really open was excruciating.

Utahime was standing right there.

He lifted his head and poked her cheek. Once then again. Again, again, and again.

"It's you."

"What, you still having a hard time recognizing people?"

"It's really you."

"Yes, it is I, Iori Utahime, your ex that your friend, Ieiri Shoko, called last night to fetch from a bar. A bar! You can't even drink three glasses without wobbling!"

His strength left his legs and dropped down.

"Hey! Are you still drunk? Did you have a stash of alcohol in your room I didn't know about?"

He was sitting on the floor seeing a panicked Utahime who bent down. She was tapping his head while mumbling about him getting a fever because of alcohol. His trembling hands caught her wandering hand and gripped it tightly.

"You're here."

Tears slowly crept down his face.

Utahime calmed down. "Yes, I was worried when Shoko told me you were drinking."

"I gotta buy Shoko a lot of cigarettes."

"No, that's bad for her health. Buy her dinner. Scratch that, dinners."

"Sure." He tilted his head and leaned on her hand. "I missed you."

Utahime was anxious this past week too. A sound from her phone, and she jolts up. She was itching to call him. That was what annoyed her.

She kept reminding herself that she regretted dating him, but still kept hoping for him. She managed to not call him, but Shoko convinced her that she wouldn't feel that if she doesn't want him.

Stupid love.

Love is so stupid that it is driving both of them past the point of insanity.

"You look so pitiful. Fine, I miss you too." She wiped his tears off his face.

"You opened up my head's tear-making factory." He already calmed down and stopped crying.

"What?"

"C'mon get up. I made you hangover soup."

She straightened her legs, but he pulled her by the hand. Now, she's forced to sit on the floor too. "We're on the floor, Satoru. We need to get up."

"You didn't sleep beside me?" He ignored what she said.

"I wasn't planning to, but you kicked me out right after I took off-"

"Ah, you took off my shirt!"

"Yes, if you did that, the shirt would've been crumpled on the floor. It was a nice shirt that I bought, and you'd leave it on the floor? I can't let that happen."

He bowed a bit and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes and continued. "Anyway, I helped you lay down, then I got out to prepare you a glass of water for the morning. But you were really on alert. When I took off your shirt, you kept avoiding my hands."

"Why would I?"

"You said that I'm not Utahime, so my hands are disgusting."

"Alcohol's the worst. But how'd you managed to do that then?"

"You fell asleep. Then I was fixing your pillows - why is it so messy? - but you slapped my hand away because I can not stay in the room anymore because again, I am not Utahime."

"I'm gonna say it again, alcohol's the worst."

"We're on the floor, Satoru."

"Really? I wasn't aware."

"We need to get up. You need that soup."

He took her other hand and swayed both of it. "You sobered me up."

"Don't be a child."

"Alright. Let's go."

They stood up, but he still got both of her hands in his. "Let me go."

"Just one hand."