You'd lost yourself.
You'd allowed your instinctive guard to drop; allowed both your physical and mental capabilities to dull down into a low and useless amount of comprehension over this current situation. To put such an endless stream of worries, questions, and mixed thoughts into a way that you could wrap your mind around- it was simply impossible. So much was conflicting with your scales of purity and common sense; there was no time to create a lengthy explication of your predicament.
However, you realized- albeit your mind was in a scramble- a few things.
One; from your ankles to the area above your waist, there was a sharp pain that resembled a cramp, although this 'cramp' was much more painful than the average one. It ravaged around your thighs, progressively growing weaker the further from that area that it traveled.
Two; this room was not your own, nor was it a room you'd ever found yourself to be familiar with. It was completely and utterly unknown to you.
The whole space was rather barren, save for a few dark wood pieces of furniture arranged neatly to the side, and the bed you'd been on for the past time of your awakening. The walls were a dull grey colour, painted neatly, and framed by white strips of wood resting atop the walls, and at the base of them. There didn't seem to be any paintings- the room was, indeed, scarcely occupied.
Three; a faintly recognizable figure was positioned before you- a man, by the looks of his body structure. Thin and tall, yes, but broadened shoulders, and a slim hip-to-waist ratio hinted at the gender. Not only was his frame a dead give-away, but his bare chest only slightly visible under the illumination that escaped from a far window to the left.
His bare chest.
You'd allowed your eyes to wander for a few moments, groggily drifting from one muscular surface to the next; this figure wasn't overly buff, instead, it was well-toned- still making lines of strength visible, even in such a shaded atmosphere.
The man had dark hair, that of which rested in messy piles without much purposeful organization, it seemed. His head was rolling back, while a hand seemed to be pressing to the nape of his neck, as if there was a distinct sense of tension that he was attempting to release. However, he seemed so at-ease in this setting; making you wonder what your purpose was to be here.
His face was hidden by both his hair and the shade, but your eyes had only needed to focus on it, before you could actually perceive who-
"F-Fushimi-san?" Your voice echoed lightly throughout the room.
No response had been given, only leading your eyes to wander for the second time. Narrowed eyes, profound frown, thick-framed glasses, a small hunch; dead-pan expression- it was him. Saruhiko Fushimi, your superior clansman; the one, who you'd always suspected of cheating his way into good standings; the one, who betrayed his previous clan, and never explained why; the one, who was more obsessed over his paperwork than any relationhips he could manage to form with his fellow Blues; him.
So you were in his room, or was this a dorm? You'd heard rumors recently that he convinced the Blue King to provide him with a single room- no additional roommate, but you'd never actually imagined that such a thing could happen.
To be honest, you'd never imagined to find yourself in his room, either.
"Fushimi-san," you repeated to the man, instinctively pulling your index fingers to gently rub against the sides of your head. Was this all in your mind? The temple-massage didn't actually seem to soothe anything, upon realizing that Saruhiko didn't seem to want to be social. Had something happened that he was too cynical to talk about? Not like he wasn't cynical for ninety-nine percent of your interactions, though; his lack of conversing was naturally the same- at least you hadn't gone completely mad by thinking he'd respond.
However, it seemed as though the tall man did respond. Albeit it wasn't much more than his commonly-used tongue click, there was still that reassuring noise that ensured you some amount of sanity. You only felt yourself grow more soothed as he spoke simple words, "It's not appropriate to get drunk at work, [Y/N]."
At least he'd given you a hint as to what had happened last night. You were drunk? That might explain the throbbing pain in your head, but not the pain over the rest of your body. Using his helpful hint, you thought perhaps you might be able to get more answers from him.
"I was drunk?"
"Don't play stupid," he hissed out, turning his back on you in order to rummage through the wooden clothes drawer that must've kept his uniforms. "You were drunk, and you followed me back to my room."
"I- followed you?" That didn't seem very characteristic of you; to be so clingy. It wasn't really characteristic of your drunk self, either. "I wouldn't have done that-"
"You did," he broke through your voice in an interruption, with a slight growl to his voice. His next words came as a disguised insult, "Do you honestly not know anything?"
You frowned, although you doubted it'd be seen, due to the darkness of the room. Honestly, this was quite surprising to you, but it was also unusual to know that this was the longest trail of speech you thought you'd ever hear the man offer up willingly. He was always so odious and quiet- he kept to himself too much.
He huffed in a clear and audible tone as if he'd read your thoughts, fishing out a shirt from his wardrobe. The next words escaping his lips seemed to be muffled as the shirt was pulled on and over his head- although you made out quite a few of them.
"But you wouldn't remember anything- too drunk-"
"Saruhiko, what happened?" You were started to get irritated by the man's attitude, and openly used an informal tone with him. He wasn't helping to provide any answers, and it killed you even more to be completely dumbfounded with the actions of the past.
Sitting up on the bed, you quickly surveyed the room. Fushimi was already standing to the side, slipping on the second piece to his uniform, a dark blue button-up vest- which he seemed to be fumbling over. His growls at the object were enough of a give-away. Yet, he was focusing more on the buttons than on answering you.
You slipped off the side of the bed, and angrily stepped up to meet the man. In your case, the height difference between him and you didn't really work in your favor; you were still quite small and insignificant.
"I want to know what happened."
"Hmm?" An amused glint was caught in his eyes, as he finally finished with the vest. Instead of responding to you with actual words, however, he'd already made a move to reach for his jacket- the final uniform piece.
"Hey-" you clamped down onto his wrist instinctively. "I said I want to know what happened."
"No you don't," he smirked deviously, easily managing to unhinge himself from your wrist-lock. "You were drunk- isn't that enough to satisfy your uncomprehending mind?"
With a quick flash of blue coat fabric, Fushimi had managed to already adorn himself with his jacket, and was now pushing against your shoulder to remove you from his pathway. "Move," he commanded, pushing a bit harder, then more so.
When you didn't budge, he resulted to forcibly pushing you aside, with much more power than you would've thought he could muster. You let out a soft groan, feeling your back slam up against the wall behind you; that was much more sudden than expected- in fact, you hadn't even thought that the dark-haired Blue would've even considered pushing you back to a wall.
What was even more unexpected was his following actions.