Hazily, his hand sloppily gropes around his wooden floor blind. The tips of his fingernails come into contact with a partially filled bottle of beer lying flat on its side. After pressing his warm prints against the glass in thought, his empty decision dictates his hand to push it with subtle force. A clunk resounds when the bottle eventually collides into a wall.
Stirred up resentment reawakens alongside his gradual consciousness as his heavy head lifts itself off the cold wood. Grunting, he presses his palm against his temple. Was once a gentle weight on his strained neck quickly becomes a pounding threat throbbing against the fleshy walls that surrounded his skull. Though his kitchen was dark, the blinds shielding himself from the sun draws dotted patterns across and over his skin. Morning birds whose chirping could puncture the walls of his home drilled like daggers into his head.
It was an unexpected low for the last member of the Uchiha bloodline. Despite his reckless state, the male had other things on his mind. It made him spit at the dry taste left behind by constant drinking from the night before. At least only one stray bottle of spilled beer left a portion of his floor sticky. A neat line of similar bottles straightened themselves at the edge of his kitchen counter. Rinsed, from what he could see. Cleaned and washed out before set to the side to dry. It was baffling that Sasuke even had the instinctual ability to clean up after himself while drunk, or at least attempt at it. The one left behind may have been the last he was working on before passing out.
When he managed to stand upright his body leans over the sink. A hand grasps the edge for balance. After finding strength in his legs he reaches out for a clean glass cup from a nearby drying wrack and fills it with tap water. After feeling a self-sufficient level of satisfaction with an unsaid amount of water to replenish his dry throat, his hydrated mouth opens and closes absently as if partaking in muted speech. He takes calm, slow breathes of air. It was a desperate technique to loosen up his tightened lungs. He wanted to clear his mind. Sasuke wanted to feel at peace. After acquiring a little ease from the pains in his skull he takes time out of his way to get a damp towel and mop up the mess he had made. No bottle was left behind for a small trash bin sitting right beside his fridge next to his apartment's front door.
Rather than looking at the time, or checking his mailbox for a new letter, Sasuke Uchiha heads straight for his room, a place he ought to have slept in instead of a cold floor. He carelessly wraps himself in the blankets sitting over top of his bed, and rolls himself up into a small cocoon before ducking his head underneath so that he could be greeted by the darkness created by his bundled self.