( @forgotiisms from ❅ )
A groan left the Russian’s lips, running a hand through his already messed up hair. His clothes were in no way better, disheveled and out of place, which was simply put, quite unusual for Viktor. Normally always caring about his looks and how he dressed, the alcohol and the impending headache were appalling and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Huh?” At the other’s words, he shrugged, nonchalant before he closed his fly. “I’m surprised I’m wearing pants at all to be honest —”














