There was only one reasonable thing to do at this hour of the night, and that was sleep. So that was exactly what Furuya was doing when his phone buzzed on his bed beside the pillow his head was resting on, and he groaned, praying for the sound to stop. Who was calling him at this hour? If only he had remembered to switch his device to silent before collapsing into his bed. But considering he hadnât even remembered to change into pajamas before dozing off and had barely managed to brush his teeth, that was too much to expect of himself.
Parties made Furuya uncomfortable, so on principle he tended to avoid them. Everyone was so loud and raucous, it made his head pound just thinking about it. He was afraid to drink for fear of making a fool of himself, but if he didnât drink heâd just be stuck in a cloud of social anxiety as everyone else laughed and enjoyed each otherâs company. Hence why he stayed away from such gatherings.
Of course, they were in college. Just because he went to bed early doesnât mean he could expect anyone else to. Resigning himself to his fate, he looked at the caller ID â and his lips curled into a deep scowl. Sawamura. Why wasnât he surprised? Normally heâd just roll over and go back to sleep, but in a rare moment of selflessness, he decided to answer instead.
âWhat⊠do you wantâŠ?â His voice was still thick with sleep.
A slow sigh rolled from the boyâs lips once before the phone was answered while he listened to what felt like an endless ringing - something he probably wouldnât be free of any time soon that would accompany the buzzing slowly melting away in his head - and twice when there was a voice on the other line that was obviously tired. Should he have been in his right mind, Eijun just might have apologized to him. Yet there was something his drink addled brain was telling him to do, otherwise - something he would definitely come to regret in the morning.
He managed to shift, leaning back in the dim light of his room, things hazy partially from alcohol and partially from the only light present coming from the street lamps that lined the paths outside of the dorms. His free palm pressed heavy into the cool wood of his desk, fingers of his other hand curling around his phone as if it would drop (which it felt like it was going to). He heaved one more inhale, not quite exhaling the breath but his words.
A pause, eyes slipping shut to the darkness, almost as if it was going to help him clear his mind and concentrate on what he wanted to say. (But what did he REALLY want to say? He didnât know).
His words came out slower than he intended, wanting to move but not quite trusting himself and his poor judgement to make it to his bed, just yet. Especially when heâd just made it inside his room (and barely). Really, his life felt like it was starting to come out like a bad shoujo manga, at this point.Â
So he cleared his throat, ready to test the waters a bit more.
âI have something .. important to talk to you about.â
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