[ Nishikiyama’s voice is low as Mine retches, and his features cringe with displeasure. The other man’s movements echo his own too much. Inelegant, sloppy, vulnerable; all of them descriptors that are no match for what Nishikiyama knows. ]
Why did you follow me out here?
[ It would have been more exciting for them to steal a private kiss again, but their circumstances have killed the prospect. Had Mine really come out just to be sick? While frowning deeply, Nishikiyama tries herding Mine closer to the bathroom door with an out-of-it facial expression of his own. ]
[ Mine's quickly brought a hand up to his mouth to catch—thankfully—nothing yet. He must look miserable, putting all those attributes under one umbrella, when Mine's gaze shifts upwards, trying to find Nishikiyama again. He wants to say why, inhibitions gone that'd make him skirt the subject: Mine saw his opportunity for a moment alone between them. ]
It’s because–
[ He tries to answer– Is there a point? Nishikiyama pushes against the back of his knees and Mine finds himself scooting between the urging of his patriarch and the wall until there's a gap to let him into the restroom.
Just as Mine pushes the first stall open his stomach clenches hard a second time. He feels full, as if there's simply too much liquid in it, and with its release Mine throws up the contents into the bowl. At the end of it, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He feels better after, before awkwardness flushes his clammy face. ]
[ As if there’s some kind of pride in saying so. Nishikiyama is careful not to let his own stomach lurch in turn, his eyes shutting and nostrils not letting any air in through them. A leg outstretches along Mine’s side motion lazily in front of the automatic flush sensor, and before seeing what Mine’d emptied, a loud jet carries it out of sight and mind. A higher end bathroom. Better to vomit here than at the rundown dive bars he’d used to frequent.
Nishikiyama moves away from Mine’s bathroom stall to sit on the edge of the sink instead. With a hop, he balances himself and then fishes his pocket for cigarettes. His gaze still fails to linger on any specific place. ]
Better?
[ He remembers he has breath mints while searching and draws a Mintia case out alongside the box if hi-lites. Both boxes are set on the counter. ]
[ Mine watches the swirl of water drain down and away in the porcelain, all clear with one final gulp. Against what he‘d consider his better judgment, Nishikiyama’s proclaimed foresight settles him with gratitude. The only thing more unfortunate than throwing up in front of his patriarch here would’ve been puking outside.
He thinks another wave of nausea‘s about to hit him, but rather than that it’s Mine’s return to his senses, realizing he’s still got reason to feel flustered. He goes to the second sink, removed from where Nishikiyama’d sat himself, to wash his mouth out. A nod after he spits. ]
Thank you.
[ Mine blinks a watery blur out of his eyes. He looks at the box of mints, the cigarettes as well, at Nishikiyama’s knee right beside them. It’s the Mintia he decides on, slipping one in his mouth to cover up the bitter taste left behind. Mine doesn’t turn his head, keeping it down, but his gaze shifts over to Nishikiyama further. ]
Some fresh air, maybe.
[ He suggests, tone unsure of making it an invitation though. If Nishikiyama doesn’t accept he doesn’t want to have asked. ]
[ Nishikiyama responds with his eyes shut and an unlit cigarette between his lips. He takes a slow, even breath, but doesn’t make and motion to retrieve his lighter. While Mine begins settling back into his reality, Nishikiyama is still swaying around while seated on the sink. ]
If I move, I’ll puke too.
[ Clumsily though, while the sink beside him is running, Nishikiyama catches some water in cupped fingers and pulls it through his hair. Like a (very drunk) bird in a birdbath.
He waits indefinitely. The moment alone with him Mine had hoped for, maybe. ]
[ Watching the cigarette bounce with speech, it takes Mine too long to remember where his lighter is on his person, sluggish when he checks mentally. He stands bracing against the countertop, then slides his right hand into the matching front pocket of his pants. He places the lighter by the sink.
Mine sways slightly, back and forth against his chosen support. This is what he‘d come looking for. A sober mind’s been enough to impede him for some part of the evening, but because Nishikiyama stays there, says he will, Mine finds time to act.
He lifts his eyes to watch water droplets be combed into slicked hair. Forming a real thought around it is too much, but he places his hand on Nishikiyama’s knee, firm to propose it’s more than just him holding on. ]
[ Nishikiyama's eyes find the touch on his leg, formerly without target or focus but now with something to process. He lets them stay there in thoughtful quiet, his stomach still dipping and head still light. What Mine wants of him now, the very reason he'd been followed into the hallway is as anticipated; yet, the patriarch won't say anything about it.
The cigarette falls from his mouth because he's too intoxicated to hold it there properly. It bounces somewhere in the still wet bowl of the other sink when he shifts to lean forward. He touches the backs of Mine's knuckles with one of his hands. The other stays in his slick hair, steadying and cradling his head against the nearest wall while he melts against it like a slab of sick butter. ]
What is it?
[ He asks, quieter. The room seems to spin less than it had been when he does. An idle thumb strokes a masculine tendon on the back of Mine's hand. ]
[ Mine submits his actions to the confines of the restroom and abandons his idea of stepping out– or he's simply too wasted to keep up even with his own suggestion. With the breath mint under his tongue his mouth's kept in a tense line. His hand also doesn't move. He looks indecisive in any way, Nishikiyama's question to match.
For another moment Mine just watches him, head in his hand to steady himself. As opposed to Kanda moving slow when far away, after getting rid of the nausea everything seems to have slowed down. Mine sways between feeling calm and languid, gaze having drifted to Nishikiyama's hand on his. Mine's moves to stretch the web of his hand along his thigh, halfway to respond to Nishikiyama's gesture. ]
[ The heat that finds Nishikiyama’s face is either from alcohol or bashfulness at the frank nature of Mine’s words. He doesn’t know, it’s only been a few hours since their relationship had shifted; he’s yet to understand how things will be between them when they’re in private. Maybe this, though, is a hint at what Mine wants.
As Nishikiyama finds the other man’s face, he tiredly but fondly thinks that Mine is needy— if it’s even the right word. Needy doesn’t feel correct because it implies an unnecessarily high demand for attention. Needy annoys Nishikiyama. It suits the hostesses that spam his text messages when they want a sales boost, or the failed excuses for “relationships” attempted on the outskirts of his prior affections for Yumi.
Mine isn’t needy, he’s something else. His hand is on Nishikiyama’s leg, and Nishikiyama doesn’t hate or resent it. ]
Too many drinks.
[ He says this regretting the decision. Nishikiyama’s stomach is still stirring. He wouldn’t be surprised if it leaped suddenly. His fingers stop tracing the back of Mine’s hand. He likes having it on his thigh. ]
I was just going to go home after.
[ Perhaps it’s unclear what he means. ]
But I’ll be alone then, if that’s what you want.
[ Less vaguely now, there’s the implication of an invite. ]
[ Needy... Mine finds himself asking for privacy in a way he, abstinent, thinks is too forward to do. At least, until now it had been, impolite in the way it wasn't shrouded in vague words and good excuses. What'd happened hours before, though, and the alcohol now precede his sentiment.
Mine isn't that, aimless and helpless without Nishikiyama's attention, but what he wants—what he does need—is still an answer to his question much earlier. Finally, he keeps asking even when a sober mind would not. Of course it's unrefined, he can't even spell it out, but it's what's there. The same way and far from conscious thought he remembers that Nishikiyama liked his touch, so even when his hand stops Mine keeps it there but stops too.
His mind tries to jump the gaps of Nishikiyama's offer. His brow creases. ]
I can't drink any more.
[ His body language is apathetic to the remoteness he usually keeps. He hesitates, but sways again and leans closer when he shifts his stance.
Too much to drink– the bad taste lingers at the back of his throat, not fully masked by the mint. Mine doesn't see himself continuing either, but despite that he doesn't know what to expect at Nishikiyama's place. ]
[ It's added as a reason for Mine to accept. His words had implied it an obstacle, but Nishikiyama doesn't want him to refuse the offer. As the other man leans closer to the sink, his patriarch's hand moves to settle somewhere on his shoulder and squeeze. It's now that he remembers that Mine's jacket, generally there, is off again. He feels the thick sculpt of collarbone and shoulder muscle beneath the pads of his fingers. His thumb finds a dip in the shape that he likes. ]
We don't have to do anything.
[ Um, maybe Mine hadn't suspected Nishikiyama might want to, but there's still a blunt subtext in the drunken sentence that the sentiments are passing through. Mine's appearance tails in Nishikiyama's eyes, and knowing that he's about to be sick, he tries to hop down from the sink and stumble for the same stall Mine had thrown up in. ]
[ Assurance that Nishikiyama extends makes Mine forget that he’s been the one ordering drinks seemingly without an end in the first place. There’s strange comfort in it thus, as well as real one from the hand on his shoulder. Mine leans heaviness into Nishikiyama’s touch, that kind no longer an unknown. It steadies him; maybe as intended?
It’s true that he hasn’t thought of anything since the motions stopped when he vomited, not much before either. Half-assed intentions‘d been enough to walk out. Mine leans more, as though short-sighted when he’s drunk, trying to read Nishikiyama’s answer. If they didn’t do anything what would they do?
But him asking out loud is interrupted by Nishikiyama pushing away. ]
[ Without explaining, Nishikiyama stabilizes himself crookedly with one hand braced against the stall. He doesn't respond verbally to Mine, instead only groaning once and then throwing up into the toilet without lifting his head.
His anticipation from before means that it's fairly neat. He barely makes any noise either. As Nishikiyama vomits, there's a bizarrely practiced method he'd developed in his early 20s, and it shows in the fleeting moment of vulnerability. Relief washes over him; he feels like he's back on Earth again. He shuts his eyes when his throat clenches and strains. He coughs and forgets Mine is there to witness. ]
[ Mine’s stomach rumbles in sympathy, threatening to empty itself again. It’s dangerous when he’s in no position to get to the bowl, so he turns his head slightly, not to aim elsewhere but just to keep himself from gagging. While Nishikiyama’s so focused, Mine‘s throat still clenches with short spasm.
Then he takes a deep, settling breath. Mine feels like he‘s found sobriety for a moment when his own urge disappears, but with Nishikiyama still at the edge of his vision he sees strands of just wetted hair fall in front of his ear. Reacting more than thinking, for once, Mine reaches forward and combs his fingers into it, pulling back what he can grab across the top of Nishikiyama‘s head. He leans over the other man, still off balance, dizzy, a wince across his face. ]
[ Nishikiyama takes a moment to recognize there are fingers in his hair. With the locks pulled out of the way, his throat parts a couple of more times even without anything else left to deposit. Eventually, though, the spasms subside with a sharp, finished breath. Sweat collects on the back of his nape and he sags emptily. Rubbing his lips with the back of his wrist, he tiredly reaches ahead with the hand that'd held himself steady in the stall to flush.
And then it's gone. His tested method tried and true, all the signs of anything having been off in the first place. His eyes pass back to Mine and realize he's there. ]
[ And then he laughs quietly. He laughs because he's gross and mirrored what he'd bullied Mine about only moments before. Collecting his posture upright, he twists around to face Mine to try to return to the sink— only, Mine is large and obstructs him. He pushes on his chest in a (still drunk) way. ]
Mint—
[ Like the word alone and the context makes enough sense for Mine to figure out. ]
You're really big.
[ It's easier to verbalize outright when he isn't as sober to feel emasculated by it. ]
[ Occupying that small a space together, as two adult men, Mine's knees almost touch the back of Nishikiyama's thighs and somewhere halfway up the wall he's also braced himself with his other hand. He's too drunk to repeat a dissonant thought he'd had before, with Nishikiyama between his legs. He cages him awkwardly, as the other man lifts his head dark locks spill from between Mine's fingers easily.
With Nishikiyama going unlax after finishing, Mine's expression does the same. The haze of too much alcohol remains, Nishikiyama's laugh replays muffled in his ears as the patriarch stands. In that cramped setting Mine tries to clue in on his reply. ]
Big–?
[ Just repeating makes his lack of stepping aside look more oafish. Mine sways, but being shoved at—movement—doesn't make him nauseous this time. Ah— ]
My bad. [ Not his apologies.
He looks at Nishikiyama, like he's surprised that the man isn't much shorter than himself. Rather than stepping out, though, Mine defaults to stand to one side of the tiny stall, thinking he's done something. ]
[ As if Mine had said the phrase "I'm sorry" itself to him. That's how Nishikiyama interprets it despite, and stuck within the confines of the stall, he shifts his weight restlessly from one leg to another without skirting the thin space where Mine stands. Lacking too much will to resist, he reaches up to push on Mine's shoulder instead this time. ]
Look at you. See? ...You're totally not.
[ He hardly knows what he's accusing Mine of at all. He feels a chalky aftertaste in his mouth, recalling that he'd just vomited, and then tries to peek around Mine's figure. ]
I need a breath mint. At least give me a breath mint.
[ His voice becomes pitchy with complaint, sort of like a dog whining. ]
[ Mine stands there all stiff because he's still trying to make room, it just doesn't work if he doesn't move further– as a result his shoulder bounces against the wall when Nishikiyama shoves him again. He frowns, doesn't like it.
It's hard to say what they're even arguing about, but Mine finds slivers of defiance... For no good reason and definitely not to match his words, when he says he's sorry, insisting in essence. ]
No, I am.
[ A grunt, the revelation making him feel slow. His own mint's melted away under his tongue removing unpleasant aftertaste, so it's not an issue on his mind. A frown twitches on his brow; he's displeased, but whether with himself or with Nishikiyama for not being clear isn't possible to say. ]
You could've said so–
[ His argument to a lack of action. Even now. Then, Mine laughs suddenly. That one, that barely sounds like more than an itch in his throat, but the corner of his mouth pulls up obviously with it. He's realized something between them. ]
[ Though Nishikiyama doesn't seem to realize he's being lumped in with the statement. Giving up on escape, he simply stands and stops protesting since Mine's refused to move. He doesn't think of the breath mint he'd asked for, instead focusing on what he can pick apart now. ]
I told you I wanted a mint already— I wasn't hiding it.
[ He steps away with no other space to fill, pressing his own back into the opposite end of the stall and frowning. He remains trapped near the toilet for as long as Mine doesn't clear an opening for an exit. ]
I'll drive the car back since you're too fucked up.
[ Nishikiyama's excuse now because, wasted or otherwise, he still wants to drive an expensive vehicle. ]
[ Mine doesn't take his patriarch's forgoing his escape as anything to do with him. He does still feel good about noticing they're both wasted, too, as if based on that he can convince himself that it's his return to clarity. It makes it easier for Mine to finally act on what Nishikiyama's saying– or has been.
He turns to leave the stall with a sigh, more to be ascribed to him moving at all, rather than taking issue with what he's doing. Blurry vision still manages to focus on the box of mints left by the sink eventually. Mine holds it out in front of him. ]
Here– [ Then, after a few beats, his question. ] You'll drive?
[ He wants to go home, ditch this party that's gotten too loud– now that Mine's further out in the restroom again, he thinks he can hear the uproar Kanda has instigated. Displeasure for it shows on his face, in wrinkles around his mouth that's departed from his brief smile, and also that he's a little critical of the other man's proposal. ]
If you want to leave...
[ Mine knows that he's himself in no shape to, but it doesn't translate to asking Nishikiyama—who's in a like state—more seriously to reconsider. He's willing to hand over his keys to the yellow sports car parked in the next parking lot over, though. ]
[ He pops not just one, but a few of the breath mints in his mouth when he's finally granted access to them. Nishikiyama moves to Mine's abandoned lighter, not seeming to think it's Mine's, and puts it in his pocket while his tongue burns cold. The unpleasant flavor from before is erased as he splashes some water on his tongue and gargles. ]
Yeah, I want to. I'm tired of this place.
[ He watches Mine behind him through the mirror, a strange mood tucked beneath them but dissipating when he turns to leave the restroom. There are other things to tend to. He has to get rid of the others. His face scrunches in similar annoyance when he shoos them off and dismisses them, dissolving the yakiniku party in a single breath. After rolling the room shut, he proceeds in a wobbly line to the parking lot and receives Mine's car keys.
He can't help but smile. True nature there, there's a boyish excitement in his eyes when he makes his way near the driver's side and clicks the lock open with the button under his thumbnail. ]
—Hooo.
[ His figure falls into the seat and he eagerly adjusts the rearview mirror to suit it. His teeth click, impressed. ]
[ Getting out to the car'd turned into a blur, Mine finds, when he slides into the passenger seat of his Lamborghini. It's where he sort of stops moving again and his head gets to catch up in a sense– did he forget his lighter in the bathroom? Mine tries to feel for it on his person. Half-dressed again, tie pulled out of his shirt and sleeves down, he'd been carrying his jacket and now leaves it in his lap.
There's not much thought to spare for any of the other men when he turns his head to look at Nishikiyama. The sound he makes lets Mine be proud and a smirk touch one side of his mouth. It's his car he's admiring. ]
I worked hard for this.
[ Honest, dry truth while Mine's head swims in alcohol. Talking about work, about money, here, there's not a touch of bitterness. He leans his head against the champagne-white leather. ]
He finishes making adjustments, the only evidence of driving he’ll leave behind for a sober Mine tomorrow, and starts the Lamborghini. There’s a smooth hum of engine to follow, one that he knows and likes. The car is worth more than some of the guys left behind in the restaurant.
He backs out, tries to. Brakes stutter when he’s not in reverse. There’s a look on Nishikiyama’s face when he holds his hand up (he doesn’t want Mine’s commentary) and corrects the mistake. The steering wheel spins. He puts the vehicle in the proper gear and pulls out of the parking spot as originally intended. But then he parks in the middle of the lot.
Eyes moving from the rearview mirror to the console, he pokes at the buttons that make the most sense to try and start the radio. The windows on either side of both of them roll lower, and some Nishikiyama Family members now going home whistle and hoot through the gaps at them.
There’s something more pressing on his mind, though. Before he can let them onto the road, the lighter Mine thinks he’d lost is revealed to be in Nishikiyama’s possession. It licks the tip of a cigarette, and he blows a fat cloud of smoke out at some of his men before grinning and offering Mine the box of remainders. ]
[ There'd not much for Mine to note—especially with the hand coming up quickly—other than that he's rarely the passenger in his own car. He likes the flawless, vivid paint job, the expensive interior and the noise that big an engine makes at the slightest touch of a pedal. He likes it now too, not thinking that Nishikiyama's as wasted as he is. His agreement sounded like praise even, Mine likes to flatter himself.
Mine's eyes appear in a slit farther across through the driver side window. He turns his head the other way at the yowling outside. Nishikiyama is cocky in his new position and Mine likes lending that to him. He finds himself liking several things right now.
Shaking the cigarette box near him makes Mine turn away from the noise again, though. He leans forward and takes it, a glance up to where he sees Nishikiyama's already lit his and there's nothing else for him to do. ]
Thanks.
[ He hadn't been so casual before, not as the one driving them to the hotel. Briefly some reasonable thought appears, if he should smoke if he felt sick and that he didn't like the taste much... on its own. Mine twists one of the knobs at the console just to turn up the radio's volume, the station that gets picked up. Then he slumps back into the seat– eyes on his driver, so obvious.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Nishikiyama’s voice is low as Mine retches, and his features cringe with displeasure. The other man’s movements echo his own too much. Inelegant, sloppy, vulnerable; all of them descriptors that are no match for what Nishikiyama knows. ]
Why did you follow me out here?
[ It would have been more exciting for them to steal a private kiss again, but their circumstances have killed the prospect. Had Mine really come out just to be sick? While frowning deeply, Nishikiyama tries herding Mine closer to the bathroom door with an out-of-it facial expression of his own. ]
Not in the hallway. There’s a toilet.
no subject
[ Mine's quickly brought a hand up to his mouth to catch—thankfully—nothing yet. He must look miserable, putting all those attributes under one umbrella, when Mine's gaze shifts upwards, trying to find Nishikiyama again. He wants to say why, inhibitions gone that'd make him skirt the subject: Mine saw his opportunity for a moment alone between them. ]
It’s because–
[ He tries to answer– Is there a point? Nishikiyama pushes against the back of his knees and Mine finds himself scooting between the urging of his patriarch and the wall until there's a gap to let him into the restroom.
Just as Mine pushes the first stall open his stomach clenches hard a second time. He feels full, as if there's simply too much liquid in it, and with its release Mine throws up the contents into the bowl. At the end of it, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He feels better after, before awkwardness flushes his clammy face. ]
I'm sorry.
no subject
[ As if there’s some kind of pride in saying so. Nishikiyama is careful not to let his own stomach lurch in turn, his eyes shutting and nostrils not letting any air in through them. A leg outstretches along Mine’s side motion lazily in front of the automatic flush sensor, and before seeing what Mine’d emptied, a loud jet carries it out of sight and mind. A higher end bathroom. Better to vomit here than at the rundown dive bars he’d used to frequent.
Nishikiyama moves away from Mine’s bathroom stall to sit on the edge of the sink instead. With a hop, he balances himself and then fishes his pocket for cigarettes. His gaze still fails to linger on any specific place. ]
Better?
[ He remembers he has breath mints while searching and draws a Mintia case out alongside the box if hi-lites. Both boxes are set on the counter. ]
Here.
no subject
He thinks another wave of nausea‘s about to hit him, but rather than that it’s Mine’s return to his senses, realizing he’s still got reason to feel flustered. He goes to the second sink, removed from where Nishikiyama’d sat himself, to wash his mouth out. A nod after he spits. ]
Thank you.
[ Mine blinks a watery blur out of his eyes. He looks at the box of mints, the cigarettes as well, at Nishikiyama’s knee right beside them. It’s the Mintia he decides on, slipping one in his mouth to cover up the bitter taste left behind. Mine doesn’t turn his head, keeping it down, but his gaze shifts over to Nishikiyama further. ]
Some fresh air, maybe.
[ He suggests, tone unsure of making it an invitation though. If Nishikiyama doesn’t accept he doesn’t want to have asked. ]
no subject
[ Nishikiyama responds with his eyes shut and an unlit cigarette between his lips. He takes a slow, even breath, but doesn’t make and motion to retrieve his lighter. While Mine begins settling back into his reality, Nishikiyama is still swaying around while seated on the sink. ]
If I move, I’ll puke too.
[ Clumsily though, while the sink beside him is running, Nishikiyama catches some water in cupped fingers and pulls it through his hair. Like a (very drunk) bird in a birdbath.
He waits indefinitely. The moment alone with him Mine had hoped for, maybe. ]
no subject
[ Watching the cigarette bounce with speech, it takes Mine too long to remember where his lighter is on his person, sluggish when he checks mentally. He stands bracing against the countertop, then slides his right hand into the matching front pocket of his pants. He places the lighter by the sink.
Mine sways slightly, back and forth against his chosen support. This is what he‘d come looking for. A sober mind’s been enough to impede him for some part of the evening, but because Nishikiyama stays there, says he will, Mine finds time to act.
He lifts his eyes to watch water droplets be combed into slicked hair. Forming a real thought around it is too much, but he places his hand on Nishikiyama’s knee, firm to propose it’s more than just him holding on. ]
no subject
The cigarette falls from his mouth because he's too intoxicated to hold it there properly. It bounces somewhere in the still wet bowl of the other sink when he shifts to lean forward. He touches the backs of Mine's knuckles with one of his hands. The other stays in his slick hair, steadying and cradling his head against the nearest wall while he melts against it like a slab of sick butter. ]
What is it?
[ He asks, quieter. The room seems to spin less than it had been when he does. An idle thumb strokes a masculine tendon on the back of Mine's hand. ]
no subject
For another moment Mine just watches him, head in his hand to steady himself. As opposed to Kanda moving slow when far away, after getting rid of the nausea everything seems to have slowed down. Mine sways between feeling calm and languid, gaze having drifted to Nishikiyama's hand on his. Mine's moves to stretch the web of his hand along his thigh, halfway to respond to Nishikiyama's gesture. ]
I wanted to be alone.
[ –Well, with him. ]
no subject
As Nishikiyama finds the other man’s face, he tiredly but fondly thinks that Mine is needy— if it’s even the right word. Needy doesn’t feel correct because it implies an unnecessarily high demand for attention. Needy annoys Nishikiyama. It suits the hostesses that spam his text messages when they want a sales boost, or the failed excuses for “relationships” attempted on the outskirts of his prior affections for Yumi.
Mine isn’t needy, he’s something else. His hand is on Nishikiyama’s leg, and Nishikiyama doesn’t hate or resent it. ]
Too many drinks.
[ He says this regretting the decision. Nishikiyama’s stomach is still stirring. He wouldn’t be surprised if it leaped suddenly. His fingers stop tracing the back of Mine’s hand. He likes having it on his thigh. ]
I was just going to go home after.
[ Perhaps it’s unclear what he means. ]
But I’ll be alone then, if that’s what you want.
[ Less vaguely now, there’s the implication of an invite. ]
no subject
Mine isn't that, aimless and helpless without Nishikiyama's attention, but what he wants—what he does need—is still an answer to his question much earlier. Finally, he keeps asking even when a sober mind would not. Of course it's unrefined, he can't even spell it out, but it's what's there. The same way and far from conscious thought he remembers that Nishikiyama liked his touch, so even when his hand stops Mine keeps it there but stops too.
His mind tries to jump the gaps of Nishikiyama's offer. His brow creases. ]
I can't drink any more.
[ His body language is apathetic to the remoteness he usually keeps. He hesitates, but sways again and leans closer when he shifts his stance.
Too much to drink– the bad taste lingers at the back of his throat, not fully masked by the mint. Mine doesn't see himself continuing either, but despite that he doesn't know what to expect at Nishikiyama's place. ]
Are you sure?
no subject
[ It's added as a reason for Mine to accept. His words had implied it an obstacle, but Nishikiyama doesn't want him to refuse the offer. As the other man leans closer to the sink, his patriarch's hand moves to settle somewhere on his shoulder and squeeze. It's now that he remembers that Mine's jacket, generally there, is off again. He feels the thick sculpt of collarbone and shoulder muscle beneath the pads of his fingers. His thumb finds a dip in the shape that he likes. ]
We don't have to do anything.
[ Um, maybe Mine hadn't suspected Nishikiyama might want to, but there's still a blunt subtext in the drunken sentence that the sentiments are passing through. Mine's appearance tails in Nishikiyama's eyes, and knowing that he's about to be sick, he tries to hop down from the sink and stumble for the same stall Mine had thrown up in. ]
no subject
It’s true that he hasn’t thought of anything since the motions stopped when he vomited, not much before either. Half-assed intentions‘d been enough to walk out. Mine leans more, as though short-sighted when he’s drunk, trying to read Nishikiyama’s answer. If they didn’t do anything what would they do?
But him asking out loud is interrupted by Nishikiyama pushing away. ]
Boss—
[ Mine shuffles behind him, too close. ]
no subject
His anticipation from before means that it's fairly neat. He barely makes any noise either. As Nishikiyama vomits, there's a bizarrely practiced method he'd developed in his early 20s, and it shows in the fleeting moment of vulnerability. Relief washes over him; he feels like he's back on Earth again. He shuts his eyes when his throat clenches and strains. He coughs and forgets Mine is there to witness. ]
no subject
Then he takes a deep, settling breath. Mine feels like he‘s found sobriety for a moment when his own urge disappears, but with Nishikiyama still at the edge of his vision he sees strands of just wetted hair fall in front of his ear. Reacting more than thinking, for once, Mine reaches forward and combs his fingers into it, pulling back what he can grab across the top of Nishikiyama‘s head. He leans over the other man, still off balance, dizzy, a wince across his face. ]
1/2
And then it's gone. His tested method tried and true, all the signs of anything having been off in the first place. His eyes pass back to Mine and realize he's there. ]
2/2
Mint—
[ Like the word alone and the context makes enough sense for Mine to figure out. ]
You're really big.
[ It's easier to verbalize outright when he isn't as sober to feel emasculated by it. ]
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With Nishikiyama going unlax after finishing, Mine's expression does the same. The haze of too much alcohol remains, Nishikiyama's laugh replays muffled in his ears as the patriarch stands. In that cramped setting Mine tries to clue in on his reply. ]
Big–?
[ Just repeating makes his lack of stepping aside look more oafish. Mine sways, but being shoved at—movement—doesn't make him nauseous this time. Ah— ]
My bad. [ Not his apologies.
He looks at Nishikiyama, like he's surprised that the man isn't much shorter than himself. Rather than stepping out, though, Mine defaults to stand to one side of the tiny stall, thinking he's done something. ]
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[ As if Mine had said the phrase "I'm sorry" itself to him. That's how Nishikiyama interprets it despite, and stuck within the confines of the stall, he shifts his weight restlessly from one leg to another without skirting the thin space where Mine stands. Lacking too much will to resist, he reaches up to push on Mine's shoulder instead this time. ]
Look at you. See? ...You're totally not.
[ He hardly knows what he's accusing Mine of at all. He feels a chalky aftertaste in his mouth, recalling that he'd just vomited, and then tries to peek around Mine's figure. ]
I need a breath mint. At least give me a breath mint.
[ His voice becomes pitchy with complaint, sort of like a dog whining. ]
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It's hard to say what they're even arguing about, but Mine finds slivers of defiance... For no good reason and definitely not to match his words, when he says he's sorry, insisting in essence. ]
No, I am.
[ A grunt, the revelation making him feel slow. His own mint's melted away under his tongue removing unpleasant aftertaste, so it's not an issue on his mind. A frown twitches on his brow; he's displeased, but whether with himself or with Nishikiyama for not being clear isn't possible to say. ]
You could've said so–
[ His argument to a lack of action. Even now. Then, Mine laughs suddenly. That one, that barely sounds like more than an itch in his throat, but the corner of his mouth pulls up obviously with it. He's realized something between them. ]
I'm really drunk too, you know.
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[ Though Nishikiyama doesn't seem to realize he's being lumped in with the statement. Giving up on escape, he simply stands and stops protesting since Mine's refused to move. He doesn't think of the breath mint he'd asked for, instead focusing on what he can pick apart now. ]
I told you I wanted a mint already— I wasn't hiding it.
[ He steps away with no other space to fill, pressing his own back into the opposite end of the stall and frowning. He remains trapped near the toilet for as long as Mine doesn't clear an opening for an exit. ]
I'll drive the car back since you're too fucked up.
[ Nishikiyama's excuse now because, wasted or otherwise, he still wants to drive an expensive vehicle. ]
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He turns to leave the stall with a sigh, more to be ascribed to him moving at all, rather than taking issue with what he's doing. Blurry vision still manages to focus on the box of mints left by the sink eventually. Mine holds it out in front of him. ]
Here– [ Then, after a few beats, his question. ] You'll drive?
[ He wants to go home, ditch this party that's gotten too loud– now that Mine's further out in the restroom again, he thinks he can hear the uproar Kanda has instigated. Displeasure for it shows on his face, in wrinkles around his mouth that's departed from his brief smile, and also that he's a little critical of the other man's proposal. ]
If you want to leave...
[ Mine knows that he's himself in no shape to, but it doesn't translate to asking Nishikiyama—who's in a like state—more seriously to reconsider. He's willing to hand over his keys to the yellow sports car parked in the next parking lot over, though. ]
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Yeah, I want to. I'm tired of this place.
[ He watches Mine behind him through the mirror, a strange mood tucked beneath them but dissipating when he turns to leave the restroom. There are other things to tend to. He has to get rid of the others. His face scrunches in similar annoyance when he shoos them off and dismisses them, dissolving the yakiniku party in a single breath. After rolling the room shut, he proceeds in a wobbly line to the parking lot and receives Mine's car keys.
He can't help but smile. True nature there, there's a boyish excitement in his eyes when he makes his way near the driver's side and clicks the lock open with the button under his thumbnail. ]
—Hooo.
[ His figure falls into the seat and he eagerly adjusts the rearview mirror to suit it. His teeth click, impressed. ]
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There's not much thought to spare for any of the other men when he turns his head to look at Nishikiyama. The sound he makes lets Mine be proud and a smirk touch one side of his mouth. It's his car he's admiring. ]
I worked hard for this.
[ Honest, dry truth while Mine's head swims in alcohol. Talking about work, about money, here, there's not a touch of bitterness. He leans his head against the champagne-white leather. ]
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He finishes making adjustments, the only evidence of driving he’ll leave behind for a sober Mine tomorrow, and starts the Lamborghini. There’s a smooth hum of engine to follow, one that he knows and likes. The car is worth more than some of the guys left behind in the restaurant.
He backs out, tries to. Brakes stutter when he’s not in reverse. There’s a look on Nishikiyama’s face when he holds his hand up (he doesn’t want Mine’s commentary) and corrects the mistake. The steering wheel spins. He puts the vehicle in the proper gear and pulls out of the parking spot as originally intended. But then he parks in the middle of the lot.
Eyes moving from the rearview mirror to the console, he pokes at the buttons that make the most sense to try and start the radio. The windows on either side of both of them roll lower, and some Nishikiyama Family members now going home whistle and hoot through the gaps at them.
There’s something more pressing on his mind, though. Before he can let them onto the road, the lighter Mine thinks he’d lost is revealed to be in Nishikiyama’s possession. It licks the tip of a cigarette, and he blows a fat cloud of smoke out at some of his men before grinning and offering Mine the box of remainders. ]
For you.
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Mine's eyes appear in a slit farther across through the driver side window. He turns his head the other way at the yowling outside. Nishikiyama is cocky in his new position and Mine likes lending that to him. He finds himself liking several things right now.
Shaking the cigarette box near him makes Mine turn away from the noise again, though. He leans forward and takes it, a glance up to where he sees Nishikiyama's already lit his and there's nothing else for him to do. ]
Thanks.
[ He hadn't been so casual before, not as the one driving them to the hotel. Briefly some reasonable thought appears, if he should smoke if he felt sick and that he didn't like the taste much... on its own. Mine twists one of the knobs at the console just to turn up the radio's volume, the station that gets picked up. Then he slumps back into the seat– eyes on his driver, so obvious.
He lights one between his lips. ]
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