A/N: Adam's perspective now.

Funny how at first it was always the opposite: the British man making sure his friend didn't overindulge and make a fool out of himself, what with his piss-poor tolerance, but as time went by, that quickly changed and so it shouldn't have come as any surprise they were here now sitting in the farthest corner of their usual dive bar, the Brit downing his sixth shot while Mahesh could only sigh and signal the bartender for a refill.

"Um, Adam…you've had six shots in the past," he glanced at his watch, "hour and some spare change. Think you might wanna, oh I don't know, take it easy…?"

"Tch. T' hell with that…" He muttered under his breath, vision already starting to swirl but unfortunately for him, his mind hadn't quite fogged up yet. At least, not to the point he wanted—numb and unfocused, not sharp and burning with the constant splinters of that horrendous fight.

'I hate you! I hate you I hate you I hate you! I hate that you make me feel this way, that somehow, I can't live without you and yet you don't seem to take any stock into what I need!'

Photos tore and dishes smashed; words that cut worse than a knife stabbed into each other, bleeding out until they were nothing more than a mess on the floor. Usually he let her rage until her anger gave out but for some reason this time, he was just as mad—just as frustrated, because what more could he say, how much longer could he apologize—

'For God's sake Sio, would you just calm th' fuck down!" She'd responded by hurling the vase his mother had given them at his head, but it crashed into the floor instead. 'Jesus fuckin' Christ!'

'Stop, just stop! I…I don't know if I can do this anymore. If even want to do this anymore.'

His heart, which had been beating with a furious fire in his chest, froze for a second before it suddenly started beating again but for the opposite reason.

Was she really serious about breaking it off…a severe chill ran down his spine as the weight of that threat sunk in.

Oh yeah. He'd really done fucked up this time. The last thing he remembered thinking clearly was if she wanted to call it off, then whatever—he couldn't care less. And then an hour later he'd shown up entirely unannounced at the Indian's doorstep, wherein his friend only had to take one look before letting him in without a word.

"Shit…I'm a fucking. Bloody. Moron." An unpleasant wave of nausea permeated his mouth, and for a second he wondered if maybe he'd had a tad too much to drink.

"Yeah, no offense mate, but I'd have to agree on that…" Mahesh sipped his own drink, although he'd been careful to keep his count low. One of them had to still drive back to the flat tonight, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be this pseudo-albino who was well on his way to getting pissed tonight. "Gotta say, Jess an' I would never do that to each other…"

"Fuck you, Mirza…" The whisky burned a little too much and he gave a cough, the bartender giving him a look as he signaled for another. Although Sio wasn't much of a drinker except under certain occasions, she did seem to like this bar quite a bit. Perhaps it was the peculiar decor, or simply because this was their usual hangout—once again he caught himself glancing over his shoulder, because how many times in the past had she said she wasn't interested in going out for a drink with the guys, before showing up randomly anyway?

"Uh, you wanna stop doing that maybe? You know she's not gonna show up anytime soon…also some of the other ladies seem to be giving you pity stares," the Indian whispered through clenched teeth, returning those looks with a false, too-bright smile while Adam remained entirely oblivious. "Though I gotta say, some of them don't seem to bad…"

How was it that this Indian playboy was still going steady with his bisexual, model girlfriend was beyond Adam's ability to reason at the moment. At first glance, the two seemed exactly like the opposite type to stick together—he flirted with just about everything on two legs, while she greeted everybody with a French kiss. And yet here they were, shouldering not only the burden this friendship bore, but taking care of them to boot. Although Mahesh had not said a word about Sio, he knew for a fact Jess was no doubt keeping an eye on her as well.

Which made him feel a little better, marginally. At least he wouldn't have to worry about her running off and doing something stupid—or worse, hurting herself; he gave a shudder and let the whisky burn slowly this time, as if a self-imposed punishment for his own crimes. To make her feel like that…god, what kind of man was he anyway?

"I know she'snot comin'…" He slurred, funny how there seemed to be two glasses though he was pretty sure the was only holding one. "Don't need t' tell me twice…fuckin' messed up…said she's not…comin' back…"

At this, his friend completely lost his composure and nearly spat out his own drink. "Wh-what?! What did you just say?"

"Didn't say nothin'; she's the one who said…"

Now there was tone of urgency in the other's voice. "Okay I know, but come on Adam, I just need you to focus here," he grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to straighten him, "what exactly did Sio say?"

"Uh." He furrowed his brows. A bunch of really mean, hurtful shit that was also very true. "…I don't think she wants t' marry me anymore…" A squeezing feeling in his chest as he recalled her tear-stained face, and his own white-hot fury…he fumbled through the pockets of his coat. "'Cause I found this."

A startled gasp. "Holy…isn't that…"

"Yeh; I dunno Mirza, yeh think she'd say yes 'f I asked again?"

"Well, I…okay you know what Adam, you know what I think?"

"Wassat?" Boy, did Mirza know that he actually had four eyes instead of two? Weeeiird. He wanted to reach out and poke them, but ended up slumping against his shoulder instead. "Fuck…I'm drunk, aren't I?"

A cautious pat on his shoulder as Mahesh attempted to close their tab with the bartender, who only shook his head silently with pity at the Brit's long-gone state. "Yes, yes you are quite drunk Adam. And now, I think we should go home."

"Noo…I'm not tha' drunk yet—" His legs didn't seem to be working very well, because the next thing he knew Mahesh was half-dragging, half-propping him out the door, all the while elbowing him in the ribs and whispering to him that he'd better pick himself up because he was not going to carry him back to the car.

"Right. I'm sure." A sarcastic retort as they finally made it back to the ice-blue Lotus. A bit more effort and coaxing (okay, a lot) was involved to actually get said man into the car, but at last both men were seated somewhat in place. "Remember: if you need to hurl, please let me know—do not, I repeat do not just roll down the windows, or god forbid, get any in the car. Jess'll kill me…and then you…"

"Uh huh…" Oh yeah, even as drunk as he was Adam didn't need to be told twice of the blonde's infamous temper—especially if it involved her very beloved, very expensive sports car with all-leather seats. Besides, he'd been drinking before and yeah, he was drunker than he could ever remember, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold out until—

"—Dammit Adam, I thought I told you to—!" A sudden screech as they came to the stop in the middle of an alleyway, Mahesh barely fumbling the door open just in the nick of time as the first wave of gastric fluids made a bid for the exit. "Shit, that was close…"

Luckily, it being the dead of meant they didn't have to worry about on-coming traffic. But still it was a precarious trip back, what with the Indian having to keep an eye on both the road and his friend's intoxicated state to make sure no disaster befell the car. As it stood, it took them nearly twice as long as it should have, and when he finally managed to open the door and stumble through the entryway, the first thing Adam did was stagger to the nearest receptacle and let out another stomach-churning sound of retching.

Which happened to be the umbrella stand. Mahesh wasn't sure if he should consider himself lucky or not.

"Sorry…I'm sorry…oh god, I think 'm dying…" His vision was so blurry and he felt sicker than a dog. Maybe that was what he was—not even a person, but an animal, unworthy of his friends and certainly not a wonderful woman like her…

"No, you're not dying…though I have to admit you sound like it," his friend shot back dryly, before handing him a glass of water. "Here, drink it—all of it. You're already dehydrated enough as is."

He stared at the glass for a good five seconds, as if trying to determine if it was poison or something, before taking it with a resigned sigh and downing it in one go.While his head felt a little clearer than back at the pub, his body was still pretty much a wreck. "…I think I need t' use th' loo…"

"It's to the—ah hell, I'll just take you." Mahesh put one arm over his shoulders and guided the drunk down the hall, praying the whole time he wouldn't just suddenly vomit all over him. "Try to aim, if you think you can't then just go for the tub." He patted his back in a comforting manner, as if reminding his friend he wasn't all alone. "I'm going to get you some medicine, and uh…clean up the mess. Holler if you need me, alright?" Silence. "…Adam?"

"Yeh, I got it; dun worry, I ain't five, for fuck's sake…!" The Indian retreated just in time as his stomach seemed to heave for the umpteenth time, the bitterness of the alcohol mixing with the sour acidity only making him even more nauseated.

What a pathetic sight; here he was, a man who had been congratulated a mere month ago about finally getting engaged, supposedly to settle down with the 'love of his life': a shy, petite Japanese woman whom also happened to be a rabid closet-otaku of all things military (and could also be quite the seductress in bed). At least, that was how it was supposed to be, until he had to go off and be a grade-A arsehole that resulted in the very real possibility of his whole life so far quite literally falling apart in front of him. A dull ache as his stomach complained of being emptied so much, but there was nothing he could do other than rest his head weakly against the tub, the cool porcelain feeling pretty good against his flushed head.

As bad as things had been before in his life, both recent and long past, this current disaster probably topped all of them combined. Not just the physical after effects of drinking too much, but the sheer weight of that guilt clinging to his heart, making his chest feel heavier with every single breath. Sio Ogura. Had she been a blessing, or just a well-disguised mistake to begin with? It was true that at first, Adam had seen her as nothing more than an annoyance—stuttering unintelligibly when he tried to correct her English during his overseas stint in Japan, stumbling over her words as often as her own feet or else babbling away in military geek-speak that nobody else could understand. Yet something prevented him from just shooing her away, even after the transfer student period ended and he returned to London; that same something made him want to get to know her better, to stand next to her and protect her and demand that he be the only one to make her smile.

What happened to that Adam? What happened them…? A great wave of despair accompanied the next wave of vomit, causing him to nearly choke. As if he didn't feel disgusting enough as is.

"Hey, you still alive, mate?" The door slowly opened and Mahesh eased his way in, another glass of water in one hand and a small bottle in the other. "Jesus, you're still not done?" One emerald glared at him from that sullen face, visage even more pallid than normal. "All right all right, it's fine, I was just making sure…nevermind. I suppose eight shots of whisky is about six shots too many." He gently nudged the other's shoulder. "Drink some more water. And then take this."

Shaking hands reached up for both objects, forcing himself to sit down on the toilet lid for stability, eyes squinting at the foreign text on the hangover cure. "…What th'…where'd yeh get this…"

"I-I, uh…oh you know, you'd be surprised at what you can find in Sainsbury's if you look hard enough…" Although he knew Mirza's intentions were for his own good, Adam could smell a lie from a mile away. His friend's unwillingness to look him directly in the eye and nervous jittering weren't exactly helping his case, either.

"Bullshit. There's a lotta places that carry eki kyabe…ain't none of them in England." In fact, it wasn't until Sio made the giant leap to attend university in England did they learn about Japan's miraculous hangover cures.

A wince from the other. "…Yeah. Sio-chan gave it to me a while back." As this awkward standoff continued, the Indian could tell he was about to face an uphill battle. "…It's just medicine, Adam, I'd think you'd like to feel better soon—"

"—No thanks; I'll be fine with just water…"

'And here we go…' Why Mahesh was best friends with a stubborn-ass British man like Adam was beyond him. True, their friendship was built on more than just exchanging quips over their latest exam scores or yelling at each other over video games—but at first glance, one would be hard-pressed to name the two as 'best mates'. He'd lost count of the number of times Adam had given him the 'look of disapproval' at his…choices for romance, and yet somehow they'd stuck together all this time. Adam's stubbornness certainly helped on numerous occasions—certainly it helped bolster his courage to commit and bring over the girlfriend he'd met while being an exchange student in Japan—but like every coin, where there was a head there was a tail.

And right now, anything even remotely related to said girl was strictly off-limits. Even something as mundane (and necessary) as hangover medicine. Gritting his teeth, Mahesh wondered for a second how possible it would be to restrain his friend and force the medicine down his throat. Unlikely, even given his drunken state—not only was Adam taller, but he was considerably more built and packed one hell of a punch—Mahesh knew this from personal experience.

That, and Adam might just possibly choke on his own vomit and die. Yeah, probably not a good idea. Perhaps it was good thing that if there was one thing he held an edge in, it would be mind games. He wasn't known as the man with a silken tongue (in more ways than one) without a reason, after all.

"…Sure, you could just continue puking your guts until you pass out, but don't you think you're being a little too…extreme?" There wasn't much of a reaction, save for another weak lurch into the bathtub. "Look, I know even your logical brain knows there's nothing to be gained by refusing—just because it's…Japanese, and she gave it to me, doesn't mean it's related to…that! Or anything else, for that matter! It's medicine. To make you feel better."

"…What if I don't want to feel better…" His voice was more subdued now, almost like a child whose temper tantrum that had just about reached its end.

Mahesh heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his head. At this rate, he was going to get a headache himself, dealing with this overgrown, emotional man-child. "…If this is some sort of perverse, self-imposed punishment for what you did—and don't give me that look, I know exactly how you work Adam, don't think I never noticed all those poorly-patched holes in our dorm when we roomed together," he shot the British man an angry a look as he could, "I know you. And I don't care how many times I have to say this, but hurting yourself is not helping anybody. Least of all her."

His body gave an uncomfortable jolt as Mirza called him out, because he knew it was true. Sio herself had brought it up more than once, usually with her eyes full of tears as she gently cradled his hands that were once again mummified, begging him to stop punishing himself. How many times had she worried over him, and yet still he couldn't kick the habit…

"Adam. Please. Look, I…I know I'm not the best person to be telling you this. Hell, I don't really even know what to say, but…" Ignoring the mess, he sat down on the edge of the tub, taking the half-empty glass from his hand. "…Yeah, you did a real shitty thing. Yeah, you probably deserved at least half the things she yelled at you," there was a slight grunt at this, though whether it was a protest or agreement he couldn't tell, "but you know what? I don't think it's over. Not by a long shot."

He would've let out a laugh, had it not been for the fact that even the slightest movement seemed to trigger his gag reflex. "Hnn…an' why the hell should I believe you? You're not me, Jess isn't Sio; doesn't matter how long you've known us for."

"…You're right. We're all different people. But, call it a…feeling. Gut instinct, I suppose." Once again Mahesh put the bottle in front of his friend—whether or not he chose to drink it, well that wasn't his business anymore—"And maybe you don't know right now, either. But, I know you'd rather die than just admit defeat over something like this. Over someone like her."

"Who's being extreme now…" Though he would never admit it, Adam had to concede that hearing his friend's confidence in their relationship made him feel a little better. Even if logically speaking, the chances of it actually succeeding were lower than him giving up his habit of self-harm. "Just 'cause I punch walls doesn't mean I'm suicidal…"

"Well, I definitely hope not…" A wave of relief washed over the Indian as Adam seemed to finally give up, and down the contents of that little bottle in one swig. "See, that wasn't so bad…" His voice trailed off as the Brit let out a cough, and he prayed he wouldn't just empty the contents back up. "Here, water?"

"…Thanks." He took the glass, and along with it passed a tacit agreement between the two men.

'You're a good friend.'

'I know, and so are you, even though you act like a moron sometimes.'

'I really appreciate this.'

'Don't worry about it. I know you'd do the same.'

"Well then," Mahesh cleared his throat in an artificial manner, trying to clear the air of this slightly awkward bromance situation that was brewing, "I think you need to get some rest now. Sounds like you've got most of the alcohol out of your system…" His voice trailed off as Adam slumped against his chest, apparently too tired to drag himself to the sofa. "Or not…"

Oh well; at least it seemed like the vomiting had finally stopped for now. As a precaution though, the Indian left a basin at the edge of the couch. Because you know, just in case.

"Ugh…man, I'm lonely." A single groan, before the silver-haired main pulled the covers up over his head.

"Well…like you said; this isn't something you can solve in a single night. Although, if you're really that lonely, I wouldn't mind keeping you company~" He edged just slightly under the covers, nudging his way towards the warm body that was already settled there—

"—Gah! Get off me, you limey! I'm not that drunk," He shoved Mirza off as the Indian laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "Fuck off already; don't yeh need your beauty sleep or whatever?"

"Hmm, just making sure you're going to be all right. I swear, if I wake up to a mess in the middle of the night.."

"You won't. I don't think there's anything left…" Don't think about it, just as long as he didn't think about vomiting or nausea or anything related…

…or a certain petite Japanese girl…

His chest gave an uncomfortable squeeze and he tried to push it down. 'Sio…I wonder, what you are doing right now?' Absentmindedly he scrolled through their last couple of texts, right before everything had exploded—oh. For some reason, one of them hadn't gotten sent? He stared with blurry eyes at the tiny screen.

[You]: 'kay then. Sleep well.

Sleep well…he wondered if she was sleeping even half as much as he'd been recently… "Ah—shit…!" The 'swoosh' that was the classic sound effect for sending a text, too late did Adam realize what his fingers had unconsciously done, sending out that artifact from the past.

Maybe it wouldn't matter anyway; she probably wasn't checking her phone at all these days. Yet he couldn't help but wonder, and wonder…