[SE] a good night for bad choices

Koa

You keep telling me to live right

If Flora appeared before him right then and declared that she'd made a horrible mistake and yes, she loved him, let's please try again, would Koa take her back?

100%, no questions asked. That's just the kind of fool he is.

But it doesn't happen, and it's not going to happen, as much as he's found himself starting and staring at every flash of golden hair. Mateo can't change her, and Koa can't, either, and as much as he desperately wants a reversal, he's far too proud to say that aloud. So he shrugs off the question, eyes sliding down guiltily in a way that perhaps will tell Mateo more than he needs to know.

The next question surprises Koa, who has absolutely forgotten about his state of undress. Blinking down bemusedly at a chest now covered in blotches of dried hemoglobin, he tries to remember exactly where and when he lost his shirt. It takes some time to slog through his memories; they're thick and blurry, like porridge abandoned to congeal. "I think they kicked me out already." He frowns, the combination of far too much alcohol followed by a light concussion doing little for his recall. "Maybe after I-- oh, fuck!"

Before the word can fully escape him it is chased down by a surge of bile. Doubling over on the sidewalk, Koa the Dragoon abruptly vomits.

Very, very smooth.

You don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then

Mateo

Nodding silently - yes, Koa's shrug and the way he refuses to meet his eyes does indeed tell Mateo more than had the other boy actually replied to him - he's about to lead them forward again when they have to pause for Koa to appraise his state of undress. And blood, and bruises, and all the rest of it. "Oh? Well, that is alright. I happen to know a few other places where you will be welcomed with open arms, as long as we get you a-- mio Dio!"

That exclamation, of course, is given by quite a tactical sidestep, allowing him to stay close enough to Koa to help without actually getting himself covered in vomit. "Beh, cazzo, Koa. Are you okay?"

One might not expect it from a veritable trainwreck like Mateo Taliesin, but he's got cleaning up mess down to a fine art, especially when said mess takes the form of a person. "No more drinking for you," he decides, resting a gentle hand on Koa's upper back. "Let's take you home instead, mm? I will make you some tea."

if anything could fall at all, it's the world that falls away from me

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Koa

You keep telling me to live right

No, Koa's not okay, good of you to notice, Mateo. But at least he's not okay with a friend - a friend who's (probably) seen him worse, and who he's cleaned up plenty of times, too. Groaning blearily, the Dragoon begins to shake his head, only to stop with a pained wince as electric pain snarls through it.

A big part of him wants to protest, to say he's fine and keep the party going until he's nothing more than a smear on the pavement, a blood-stained cautionary tale. But as tempting as oblivion is, Koa's always been a practical boy, and he knows he'll have enough regrets tomorrow without adding more onto the pile.

Plus he's been out partying with Mateo enough times to know that when the botanist says it's time to quit, things have really gone too far.

Sighing resignedly, the Dragoon stands, letting Mateo take some of his unsteady weight. "Yeah, ok," he concedes softly, grimacing at the dried blood on his chest. "Tea sounds good." Tea, and a shower, and the sleep of the dead, and maybe Koa will be able to handle facing another day.

[fin]

You don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then