[for Lloyd]

[number97a413]

[ After  all  of   these ]

In the light of day, things actually seem a bit better than he'd hoped.  Maybe it helps that he spent last night freaking out in the jungle after dark, scaring himself bad enough that he's back on his fucking meds; after that, a hangover and some gay panic aren't really that bad.

The pill bottle rattles from his trouser

Comments

[kingshit_lloyd]

The crazy pounding in Lloyd's head had receded a little since he'd woken up a few hours ago, and after he'd had a talk with Glen, he felt a little better. A little saner, too. He was heading for the showers when he spotted Miguel, who was apparently on his way to the clinic.

Lloyd had retained only a dim picture of the night before, and it wasn't a picture he was eager to revisit, but he was pretty sure at least some of it involved him being a dick, and judging by how Miguel looked, punching his eye out. Lloyd winced a little, seeing how bad it was. He hadn't even had a reason for it, either; he'd been itching for a fight, that's all, and Miguel had drawn the short straw. Lloyd wished it had been somebody else -- hell, even Bert. Miguel had plenty troubles of his own without him adding to the mess.

"Hey, man," he greeted tentatively, hoping to apologize and put that shit behind them, but not real sure where to begin.

[number97a413]

His look would be a little more wide-eyed if the combined shiner and hangover would let him open them more. He can't decide if the panic he feels (and he really needs to get this shit together and take his fucking meds before his heart gives out or he just starts to believe his heart is giving out) is a natural fight-or-flight now that Lloyd's made the response necessary, or some sort of depressive-episode bullshit mixing with the gay panic so he gets to feel guilty about going home with Jim for some fucked up reason, and panic about Lloyd finding out

[kingshit_lloyd]

Boy, Miguel really did look like shit -- Lloyd doubted either of them was going to win any beauty contests today, but at least he didn't have the black eye to complete the washed out ensemble (he did have that busted lip he still didn't remember getting, but it wasn't quite as hardcore). And that look Miguel gave him, it was like he was expecting Lloyd to come at him with a fucking baseball bat.

Whatever had gone on between them last night, it couldn't have been that bad, right? Lloyd was starting to panic a little, too, especially when Miguel took off before he even got the chance to say anything

[number97a413]

"Don't you fucking touch me," he growls, made angrier by urgency, but what else does he feel half the time? "Did your night get any less rough for making mine just as fucking bad, man? I wanted to kick the shit out of you." And how could Lloyd understand how hard that is, how much Miguel doesn't want to feel that way anymore? The night was like a study in things he doesn't want to be, and now he's hung over and crashing and Lloyd is giving him vague excuses.

Fuck it, just fuck it. Even if he wanted to just take the apology and let it all go, what then? He'd still feel like shit and he'd still be on edge and everything that happened last night would still have happened.