Wedding bells ain't going to chime, with both of us guilty of crime
Who: letsplaysurgeon and deathsdoctor
What: Katas, cigarettes and copious amounts of banter. Muraki alone on a roof at daybreak with someone he's deeply smitten with.
When: The morning after this, so backdated to the fifteenth of February.
Where: On the roof of CH2.
Summary: A fortuitous meeting when Muraki has an early morning nic-fit and heads to the roof for some smoke and fresh air.
Rating: PG-13 for now, but it's looking like it'll progress into an R rating later.
[Light was creeping through his window as faint as a phantom, and it didn't break the shadows apart as opposed to washing them in a grainy blue tint. This wasn’t nighttime, but it didn’t really qualify as morning, either: it was the hour in between where daylight was slowly being dragged from the dead. And he was awake to experience it. As a matter of fact, he was far more conscious than nature was at this moment.
He watches the world develop contours, bringing his bedroom into sharper focus. He stares at the same corner of his ceiling for ten minutes before deciding he didn't like the clash between the catatonic morning and his buzzing brain. He could get up, shuffle around his apartment and wait on his hands, or he could venture out into the world and watch it sleep.
When was the last time he had a cigarette? He puts on his shoes and coat and then leaves the apartment.
The decision to go up to the roof occurs to him after he acknowledges the familiar way downstairs and decides it wasn't worth the effort. Instead he treks up five flights of stairs and pushes open an unfamiliar door, met with a cold burst of February air before he even walks outside.]