Distaste || Hibari and Mukuro
@sixxpaths:
Mukuro hated looking and feeling vulnerable. He was absolutely sure he would die before anyone could every see him so desperate and wasted. Normally the illusionist wouldn’t let that ever happen but right now he just couldn’t help it, couldn’t help himself anymore. The taste of alcohol which was so alluring to him had him crashing to the ground, right beside the couch as he took another sip from the bottle. Legs spread, jacket tossed somewhere in an unknown location, the only thought running through his mind was about the price of the drink and how he was supposed to spend his money on more important things, like feeding the rest of his gang. Yet, it was already too late so those questions were soon left behind like his common sense.
Although his vision was blurred and the light coming from outside wasn’t exactly making the situation better, he could tell apart one single silhouette coming through the doorway. The only person he didn’t want to be seen by in his state. There was no mistake. Hibari’s visits always amused the young illusionist, when he was sober that is, and their fights were a great source of entertainment. Surely he would be disappointed to see his favorite rival acting like a weakling. How in his right mind did he allow himself to be drunk when he was always on the run? He questioned himself while giving the cloud guardian his usual smirk, hopelessly trying to regain his composure once more.
A genuine derision, far more potent than usual, filled the teen as he made his way through Kokuyo Land.
Earlier, he had received a text message from the other. It made little sense as it was littered with misspelled words and shitty grammar.
It was a simple thing to ignore. He didn’t even bother trying to figure out what it said, nor did he care to ask Mukuro to send another message with more sense to it. However, it became harder to ignore when he began to receive more messages from said mage.
At some point, he could have sworn he read the word “drunk” amidst the jumbled letters of his text and Hibari’s eyes narrowed as he forcefully shut his phone and pocketed it, determined to ignore any further onslaught of texts. He would have nothing to do with a drunken fool and would not be goaded into any fights. An intoxicated opponent was a dead one.
Except, the barrage of texts didn’t end.
An audible growl left the teen’s lips as he grabbed his coat and left.
He tried not to make visits to Kokuyo Land a frequent occurrence, but he was a glutton for the thrill of the fight and Mukuro was too entertaining a rival to stay away for long periods of time, especially in the absence of the Bronco.
As he entered Mukuro’s lair, he was unsure of what to expect, but the sight of the taller teen sprawled across the floor, an idiotic and distorted version of his usual smirk plastered on his face, brought a thick sense of distaste to the skylark.
He did not like alcohol.
Slat eyes narrowed, he remained at the door.
“Proud of yourself, are we? Pitiful.”
