Next morning's guilt came like a guillotine.
Kazuna's body was aching slightly. His shoulders, his waist. His hips were the worst of all. He hadn't bottomed in a while, and although he'd been careful enough to make it as painless as possible, it was still rough. However, the first thing he became conscious of as he woke up, eyes still tightly shut to avoid morning light, was not the pain.
It was the guilt.
He pursued an engaged man. His best friend. Many would say he abused him in a way, taking advantage of basically everything.
He felt like complete shit.
And to top it off, once his vision adjusted to the light (why did Tomohisa sleep with the curtains wide open?!) he looked around only to find an empty room staring back at him.
Was it always so spacious? He remembered it much smaller last night. Then again, the room was probably the last thing he remembered, or wanted to remember, from last night.
Kazuna sat up slowly, hugging his blanket-covered thighs as his forehead rested over his knees. Cold winter air hit his naked chest and he felt extremely embarrassed. Ashamed, even.
"I've really done it, now…" He whispered to the nothingness, looking around once more. It wasn't a dream, that's one thing he could say for sure.
On his second scout of the room he noticed a white, rectangular piece of paper sitting on the opposite bedside table, under the night lamp. It had something written on it he couldn't see from this spot on the bed, and was surely something Tomo left him.
Before he could muster the courage to take it, though, his cellphone rang. A message? It was around seven thirty, or maybe eight in the morning. Who could be messaging him at this hour?
It was Tsubasa. Sumisora Tsubasa.
As Kazuna read it over and over, his body grew stiffer, colder.
'Are you satisfied now?' it read.