[ it's a lot easier to say you're going to do something than it is actually doing it. under ideal circumstances, izō would've woken up ahead of the alarm and cleared out before he could potentially make things worse. he was drunk when this happened last time, so izō recalls even less than he might've sober, but he doubts any of it is something ryouma would want to see. izō means well by it in wanting to spare him.
instead, he's still here.
izō has a painful transformation and the frigid outdoors to look forward to, so could anyone blame him for his reluctance to leave the warm comfort he's all wrapped up in? he feels rested too; like some of the best sleep izō has ever had, come to think of it, so he can scratch wondering if he'd be too exhausted to handle a second time off the list of concerns.
thinking it might happen after the sun went down had been just a hunch, but compared to how he'd felt this morning, it seems like it might be the correct guess after all. there's something in the back of his mind that hadn't been so noticeable earlier, and it's also just starting to stir as he wakes.
but for now, izō remains himself and firmly aware, so it's alright, he supposes. it does, unfortunately, dash any hope that it might've just been a one-off incident, but izō already expected to need to go. he's not pinning his hopes on things where the odds are unlikely to be in his favour and just planning for what looks inevitable; he always loses at gambling, and the stakes right now are much too high for carelessness.
that's so much to think about, though, and the sound of the alarm going off seems unbearably loud all of a sudden. he leans over ryouma and reaches for the phone — possibly intercepting him going for it himself in the process — and likely didn't so much turn it off entirely but let it snooze for another ten minutes or so.
peace restored, his cheeks are a bit flushed when he looks down. it's not like they haven't shared a bed before and done plenty that requires a level of intimacy between them, but it feels like something's shifted. he felt bolder earlier, but then that makes sense. his doubts start creeping in the less he feels in control. ]
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instead, he's still here.
izō has a painful transformation and the frigid outdoors to look forward to, so could anyone blame him for his reluctance to leave the warm comfort he's all wrapped up in? he feels rested too; like some of the best sleep izō has ever had, come to think of it, so he can scratch wondering if he'd be too exhausted to handle a second time off the list of concerns.
thinking it might happen after the sun went down had been just a hunch, but compared to how he'd felt this morning, it seems like it might be the correct guess after all. there's something in the back of his mind that hadn't been so noticeable earlier, and it's also just starting to stir as he wakes.
but for now, izō remains himself and firmly aware, so it's alright, he supposes. it does, unfortunately, dash any hope that it might've just been a one-off incident, but izō already expected to need to go. he's not pinning his hopes on things where the odds are unlikely to be in his favour and just planning for what looks inevitable; he always loses at gambling, and the stakes right now are much too high for carelessness.
that's so much to think about, though, and the sound of the alarm going off seems unbearably loud all of a sudden. he leans over ryouma and reaches for the phone — possibly intercepting him going for it himself in the process — and likely didn't so much turn it off entirely but let it snooze for another ten minutes or so.
peace restored, his cheeks are a bit flushed when he looks down. it's not like they haven't shared a bed before and done plenty that requires a level of intimacy between them, but it feels like something's shifted. he felt bolder earlier, but then that makes sense. his doubts start creeping in the less he feels in control. ]