A/N: Written for the prompt 'hangover' on the holiday-prompts New Years table.
On waking, Seung-gil's first thought is that he's warm.
His second is that his head pounds too much to bother opening his eyes.
His third coherent thought, some time later, is that he's too warm.
He blinks his eyes open, thankful that the curtains are pulled tight, just in time to see his bed partner starting to stir. It takes a few moments for Seung-gil to recognize who he is: Katsuki, from Japan. Seung-gil doesn't know much about him except that he's quiet and doesn't bother him when they're stretching in the same area together.
Katsuki squints at him, and then a second later, his expression morphs into something mortified. "Um," he says, and then a hesitant, "Good morning?"
Seung-gil gives him a look and sits up, intending to get up and find where the hell his clothes are – none of them are on him – only for his head to start spinning. He holds it, trying to will away the dizziness and the pain, not listening to the shuffling from the other side of the bed. He's startled when Katsuki says his name, and he looks up to see a glass of water being offered.
He doesn't know that it will help much, but he takes it anyway. "Thanks," he mumbles, before taking a long few sips.
"Ah," Katsuki says, some formless sound, and there's a pause before he continues with, "I'll just get going, then."
Seung-gil peers around. "This is your hotel room."
"Oh." He can see Katsuki squinting again. Maybe his eyes are that bad. Seung-gil reaches for the bedside table and hands him his glasses, which he takes with a mumbled thanks.
Thankfully, Katsuki mostly ignores him as he tries to find his clothes in favor of donning his own and huddling by the coffeemaker, watching it spit out hot water. Seung-gil's shirt is a wrinkled mess, and he can't find one of his socks until he roots around in the bedsheets for it. Aside from the burbling coffee maker, the room is quiet. It's awkward, but as far as awkward mornings go, it's not that bad.
(It's better than the time he got far too drunk and ended up in Giacometti's bed, at least. Giacometti had tried to be nice the morning afterward. At least Katsuki seems to feel approximately the same about their hook-up.)
What's worse is that from what he can remember, the sex was great. He doesn't have bruises where Katsuki held his wrists to push him to the bed, but he has a mark on the inside of his forearm from the skin being sucked too hard. There are none on his neck, but he can still feel a mouth there, hot, good. His buttons are all intact, but he can remember helping Katsuki undo them, how it was such a relief when they were unbuttoned and Katsuki could reach down and touch—
Seung-gil rubs at his forehead, then ignores the headache to stand, brush past Katsuki, and start pulling on his shoes. He really needs to stop getting drunk if this is how he ends up. Clearly, drunk him's judgment cannot be trusted.
"Um," Katsuki says again. Seung-gil looks up to find that he's advanced a few steps from the coffeemaker, now holding a cup of steeping tea. "Happy New Year."
Seung-gil doesn't care what his coach has to say about playing nice and making connections, or how nice it might be to get away from his parents (and his terrifying fans) for a few extra days; he is never, ever coming to one of Chulanont's Thai New Years parties ever again. "Happy New Year," he says flatly, then finishes getting his shoes on.
He can feel Katsuki's eyes on him when he leaves, but he doesn't look back.