She felt like utter shit.

Hungover and full of frustration over falling off the wagon, all because of a wrecked friendship and unrequited feelings, Miki couldn’t help but think about the last time she got drunk. The time that she tried to kiss Haruka. It had been the start of a shift in their relationship, though neither of them really knew it at the time.

Even though she knew her feelings weren’t returned, despite how their friendship had ended and Haruka had vanished, she couldn’t help but miss her.

She could hear a voice humming in the bathroom.

 

Chiaki.

 

Putting her face in her hands, Miki stifled a groan. Not only had she drunk til she could barely stand, she’d also slept with Chiaki. Again.

She stared into Chiaki’s large mirror that hung on the closet door across from the bed. She looked just as bad as she felt, makeup and hair a downright mess. Her clothes were tossed all over the floor, just as scattered as her mind.

 

Her hands fell back to the mattress, everything in front of her blending together, growing hazy. She ignored the sound of Chiaki’s footsteps drawing closer, until a hand gripped her by the face. Chiaki turned it upward to force her to look at her.

“You look even more like garbage than you usually do.” Chiaki sounded giddy, a wide smile on her face. Her fingers squished her cheeks momentarily, before finally letting go. “You’re lousy in bed when you’re drunk.”

“You’re always lousy in bed,” she quipped back, reaching for her underwear on the floor. She ignored Chiaki’s whine, fighting the urge to put her hands in her head from the headache bending down gave her.

Standing up to pull on her underwear, Miki wobbled, almost falling over. As she steadied herself with a hand on the edge of the bed, she could hear Chiaki snickering. “Are you still drunk?” she asked, glee in her voice. “You drunkard.”

“Says you,” Miki sighed, massaging her temple for a moment before her second attempt at getting dressed. This time, it went better.

The two of them were truly the textbook example of the phrase ‘it takes one to know one’. Two alcoholics who only managed to make each other worse.

As she picked up her shorts, Chiaki poked her in the boob, her nail digging into her skin. “If you’re gonna keep being a model you should get a boobjob.”

Miki swatted her hand away. “My boobs are fine.”

Chiaki made a disagreeable sound as she leaned into the mirror to paint her lips a soft pink. Miki proceeded to ignore her.

 

It took her a minute to find her bra, finding it far underneath the bed. It felt sticky. Had she spilled booze on herself or had Chiaki thrown it at her? When they got as drunk as they had last night, either option was just as likely.

She grimaced at how it felt against her skin, but she kept it on anyway. She didn’t exactly want to leave it at Chiaki’s, and her purse was too small to fit it in. Not to mention that her shirt was probably in an equally terrible state as the bra, and she was not asking Chiaki to lend her a clean one.

 

A beer-reeking piece of cloth was thrown in her face with a giggle. The stench of it clung to her skin as it dropped back onto the floor, revealing her shirt. “Bitch,” she whispered as she picked it up, just loud enough to be sure that Chiaki could hear it. Judging by the gasp and whine that followed just a moment later, Chiaki hadn’t missed it.

She heard Chiaki’s footsteps stop in front of her, and she looked up. The look on Chiaki’s face was frustrated. A little misty-eyed, though Miki wasn’t sure if it was from hurt feelings or the alcohol.

Her hands cupped her cheeks, and when Chiaki’s lips locked with hers, she didn’t push her away. Nor did she make any move to respond, leaving Chiaki whining again.

It was annoying. But the edge of her annoyance was dulled by the knowledge that she was already drunk at nine in the morning. She was always like this when she was drunk. And she was almost always drunk. And when Miki was drunk, she knew that she was just as annoying as Chiaki was now.

It was what had made them such a perfect match at first, but a terrible one the longer their relationship lasted. The similarly needy and whiny behaviour while drunk, that grated on your nerves when you were the one that was sober.

“No one but me could ever love someone like you,” Chiaki said as she pulled back from the kiss. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Miki ignored the sting in her chest. “I know. You told me yesterday.”

She made Chiaki take a step back by the press of a hand to her chest, allowing her the space to put her shirt back on. “I’m leaving,” she said as she located her socks so she could pull them on. Chiaki clicked her tongue as she followed her to the front door.

 

As she pulled on her boots and jacket to leave, a scrap of paper was held out in front of her. Miki’s eyes turned up to look at Chiaki.

“Go show that straight girl’s clothes off or whatever,” Chiaki said, pouting. When Miki took the note with a thank you, Chiaki pinched her cheek. “Don’t stay away for that long again, got it?”

For a few seconds, Miki stayed silent. She pocketed the note before Chiaki could change her mind. “I’ll consider it.”

Really, she shouldn’t. Going back to ni-chome was too big a temptation to ignore, a lot of the time, when she already knew she shouldn’t be drinking.

This time, she hoped her relapse would at least be worth it.

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