late cup of tea || Fukawa & Hinata
Late nights were a common thing, now. Even before the Incident (in spite of not using the actual name, just the mere thought of what had happened sent a shiver throughout Fukawa's body; invisible hands gently trailing their icy fingers down the author's spine, making the hair on her arms stand straight up), she had a tendency to avoid sleep for days on end. Distracting herself with writing, the blinding light from her computer screen keeping her awake, she would stay up until the wee hours of the morning. Her mind steadily churning out new ideas, only to have the backspace key slammed down hard in frustration, erasing every last bit of what she had worked so hard on in the past hour or so. It was a cycle, this routine, continuing itself until her alarm went off and she had to trudge herself through the burden of school. Of course, her memories of this were foggy, but that didn't stop from the instinctive habit from remaining.
The only difference now was that the days she had spent staying awake had turned into weeks. Dark bags underneath her eyes now decorated her drained features, and the frown that usually sat regularly on her face was more prominent than ever. She hadn't really had a taste for coffee, always preferring the sweeter scent of tea to the bitter stench of coffee; her sleep-deprived nights would sometimes result in her dragging herself down the halls toward the small cafeteria to brew herself some tea, no matter how late it was.
Unfortunately, this is where she found herself again. There had been an attempt to sleep that night, but it had been barely a few minutes before harsh nightmares snapped the author awake, struggling around desperately in her covers for the feeling of safety. That was another thing that had grown worse; dreams. Her current disastrous mind situation already provided more than enough nightmares as it was, but at least she had the occasional comfort of her own room. Her own room which had previously provided a quiet sanctity for herself now felt unsafe, and she couldn't shake the lingering feeling that someone was sitting smugly behind a set of monitors, watching every move she made like a grand puppeteer planning their next performance. The main character of said performance, of course, being the sad, disgusting, laughable Touko Fukawa.
It was just tiring and stressful, really.
Upon reaching her destination, the cafeteria felt as empty and lonely as it had been during her many pasty trips (A quickly muttered, "No surprise..." slipped out from under her breath, accompanied by a frown). Not that she minded, really, but previous happenings had damaged her ability to truly enjoy the stress-reliever that was being by herself. A sigh drifted from her as she poured the cup, trying to keep her hand steady to avoid getting any on the counter.
Taking her drink back to her room felt like a better idea than drinking it in the open cafeteria. With a tired look and heavy arms, she grabbed the cup and began to slowly scuffle her way out of the kitchen. Her vision remained fixed on the drink in her hands as she blew gently on it to cool it off, not watching where she was going, causing her to--
--run right into another person, spilling her tea all over their clothes.
"Gnnnnghh--!!" Guttural throat noises were all that managed to escape her mouth, the author's hands shaking as she struggled to pick up the fallen cup on the floor. In the mess of it all, she didn't even seem to acknowledge the other person, too busy stressing out over the current predicament.
