"Since when do you care?" Towa replies.

He smiles. "I don't, really," he says, then turns around again to leave.

...and stops again. "But by the way, you keep leaving the TV on. You need to turn that crap off before going to bed."

"I'll try," he lies again.

"Anyway, I'll be downstairs. Hurry down, alright?"

With that, he finally leaves.

He leans back against the sofa, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and trying to force his brain to remember what happened yesterday. His body feels like lead, and even blinking feels like too much effort.

...ah, right, he remembers. He went drinking at one of his usual haunts and some rando started talking to him. He was totally blitzed, so when the guy invited him to leave, Towa jumped at the chance without even looking at him. He was led to a narrow alley and, for some reason, both of them were so horny they started screwing right there. Towa couldn't tell why he'd been so worked up, and now his back aches from being slammed up against a brick wall. The guy wasn't even a good lay. Twenties? Early thirties?

Regardless, he probably took too many sleep pills when he got home, because he slept like a log. Taku prescribed them to him, since he's always been kind of an insomniac: on nights he doesn't take them, he either has terrifying nightmares, or he drifts in and out of sleep all night long, sometimes until noon. He's not supposed to take them with alcohol in his system, and as a result he always feels like shit, but he has no plans to stop.

Towa pinches his cig between his fingers and lifts his wrist to his nose. He reeks of booze, smoke, and sweat; he knows Taku wants him downstairs ASAP, but he really needs a shower. Last time he went to work in this state, the elderly patients all gave him dirty looks.

He rises to his feet, and notices that his stomach is empty. His gaze slides over the table and floor, looking for the half-empty bottle he's sure he must've left somewhere—alcohol is calories, right? But he can't find it. Maybe Taku moved it, and if so, it'd be in the fridge, which is far too much effort.

He takes one last drag of his cigarette, crushes it in the ashtray, and goes to the bathroom to take a shower.