Ugh...this long? Really?
Can't be stuffed typing all the stuff that happened in the past few weeks. Insted, simply going to post a conversation taking place in my head
Kyle: What do you mean, you didn't think it would hurt? You hit me with a fucking frying pan!
E: You wouldn't wake up!
Kyle: Well I'm not staying up now that you're here. Would you get out of my damm apartment already!
E: I can't go. I need to stay here. It's my home as well, you know?
Kytle: Oh no, this is no ones home. This is an apartment. MY aparment-despite what my author might think.
E: No,it's my home. It's our home. We're roomates.
Kyle: We're not fucking roomates! Get out of my apartment.
E: I wasn't going to fuck you. I'm sorry.
Kyle: Would you just...Argh! GET OUT OF MY PLACE! I'm going back to bed. I'm traking the frying pan.
E: -holds on- No. My frying pan.
Kyle: You're not having that again. Not after this morning.
E:...It was afternoon?
Kyle: I don't care! Give me the damm frying pan!
E: No. Let go. LET GO!
-fight ensures-
E: My nose!
Kyle: Give me it!
-more fighting-
E: See. -is smug- My frying pan.
Kyle: I fucking hate you.
E: It's a comfy frying pan.
Kyle:What the hell is up with you. Fucking hell. This hurts like hell.
E: Comfy things don't hurt. I'm sorry.
Kyle: Shutup, will you? I don't get it. I don't get you.
Enrich (from bedroom): What's happening?
KYle; Leave it. It's nothing -to E- See. You even woke him up. Happy now?
E: Who is he?
Kyle: Didn't you hear me at all last night? Fucking hell, E.
E: I was tired last night. I was so sleepy..I'm so sleepy...This is so comfy.
Kyle: Oh my god. Fuck you, E. Leave me alone, and get out of my house.
E: I'm so comfy...
----
Which then inspired me to write this....
They sat around the table, Enrich on the chair, Kyle on the floor. He’d slid down there in his previous laughing fit, and now his head was resting against the lone chair in their apartment.
Raising the glass once more, Kyle pouted when he saw it empty. “Enrich~” he whined, waving the glass in the air drunkenly. “My glass is empty.
Hysterically laughing, Enrich lifted the bottle of vodka-where Kyle had gotten it from; he really didn’t want to know-and attempted to pour it into the now empty glass. A swerve off to the left made the drink splash all over Kyle’s face, which only made him laugh harder. He tried to lift the bottle up to his lips, but somehow, it fell to the ground and smashed. The loud noise only made him laugh harder, and he drew his legs up to his chest, hugging them tightly as his body rocked with laughter.
Kyle stuck his tongue out, licking anxiously at the drops of alcohol running down his face. He tried to lift his hand, but the glass he held was too heavy. “Enrich,” he whined. “It’s so heavy”
Enrich didn’t answer, still laughing in his chair.
Pouting, Kyle used his other hand to pry the glass from his right. When his hands were finally free, he rolled over, and tried to get to his feet. Stumbling, his balance off, he grabbed Enriches leg, trying to stay upright.
Enrich stopped laughing, instead surprised by the sudden turn of events. His head hit the floor, and he began laughing again, despite the acute, stabbing, pain in the back of it. “What do you say?” he slurred.
Kyle smiled. “Fuck me. Please?” He usually didn’t use manners, but he was too far drunk to care.
Another bout of hysterical laughter from Enrich made a small feeling of anger stir up in Kyle. “Fine then!’ he yelled. “I don’t care! I’m going to bed!”
“Aw, baby,” Enrich mocked, turning over so that he was on his hands and knees now. “As if you could resist this.
“Enrich~"
..Hmm. Methinks I need to work on these scenes...