After drinking enough water to irrigate the Sahara, Yosetsu half-stumbles and is half-carried back to Kuroiro’s room by the man himself. They climb to the second floor and slump across the floor.
“Sorry for the smell.” The dark boy murmurs as he fiddles with the personally installed locks on his door. He has 3 of them, in addition to the courtesy knob lock UA provided. The man attached a deadbolt to his door. Weird. Then again it isn’t like Kuroiro has ever championed himself on normalcy. “And the mess, I guess.” Kuroiro snorts and shoves the door open, tugging Yosetsu inside.
Routine politeness has Yosetsu preparing to declare that there is no smell and Kuroiro had nothing to apologize, but he quickly chokes on the words. There is most definitely a smell, and it shoves itself down his throat and turns his manners into lies. It isn’t a bad smell so much as it is intense and smothering. There’s some familiarity to it. Marijuana. Something like cigarettes. But there are too many unidentifiable odors mixed into the air of his classmate’s room.
The door slams shut behind them and Yosetsu is thrust into total darkness. Which is actually kind of nice. Kuroiro’s room is a perfectly neutral temperature and there’s no light to dig into his eyes and claw at his brain until he cries. Even though it’s a lot better, the headache he’s nursing is still the worst he’s ever had.
There’s a chuckle. “You can’t see shit, can you?”
Awase dumbly shakes his head, curling in on himself. At the same time, a soft click brings light to the room. There’s a tall lamp on Shihai’s desk. It’s not enough to read by on the other side of the room, but more than enough to see why Shihai mentioned a mess.
There’s clutter everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Haphazardly opened hardback books and loose papers litter the floor, all of them inked up with highlighter and pen marks, even the library books, Awase notes irritably. More papers, posters too of what look to be music artists and video games Yosetsu has never heard of cover two whole walls, the other walls left almost entirely bare. Cellophane wrap is scattered about, matched by empty boxes and hollow styrofoam molds that look to have housed everything from footwear to kitchen appliances. Said appliances are also scattered about, though unlike their packaging, each seems meticulously placed. There’s a hotplate and kettle-shaped water boiler in one corner, a blender on a stool next to the closet, clip on fans mounted to the ceiling corners.
The room is a mess, undeniably, but there’s an oddness to it. Shihai navigates his room carefully, not stepping on the overlapping papers, he does use the boxes as footholds of sorts. Also, there’s a notable lack of dirty laundry about, all of it contained to the hamper under his bed. A bed that is beautifully made. And there’s no food out, either, nothing that would attract pests or mold.
A faint hum comes from the closet, but before Awase can ask about it, his hands are being filled.
“Eat. Then drink more water.” Shihai commands.
When Yosetsu looks up from the sleeve of crackers in his hand, Shihai’s pitch face is hidden by a wall of steam. The lamplight reflects off of it abnormally, illuminating the edges of Shihai’s facial features as it dissipates. He’s got a sharp, cute nose, his eyes are a little sunken, but quite alert. And he has a jawline that could give Juzo a run for his money.
His still-addled mind is tempted to blurt out how pretty Shihai is, that or lean forward and lick his neck to see if he tastes as good as he looks, so he wracks his garbled thoughts for something that won’t get him thrown out of the room. Shihai presumably has information about Honenuki, and Awase isn’t sure what it’s about. Does Shihai want him to back off his territory? That doesn’t seem likely.
“What’s that?” Yosetsu settles on saying through a dry mouthful of unsalted saltines, which seems unintuitive, but whatever.
“It’s a juul.” Shihai answers, bringing the little blue device to his lips and inhaling. The steamy white curls out of his nostrils moments later, and it reminds Yosetsu of how cartoon characters huff smoke out of their nose when they’re angry or ate something spicy.
