They'd had a very late night and by the time Ryah woke up, it was sometime in the late morning. The first thing he did, as he slowly regained his memories of the last day, was bite down the flare of horror. Fucking fuck--what had he--he had...Ryah stumbled from the bed, the faint scent of sex still lingering on the bed, his hair, his skin. He purposely avoided looking at Drake and quickly collected some clothes to cover up, along with the blanket on the ground and headed downstairs. There was a heaping pile of wet clothes in the bathroom, and his cheeks burned with heat, as he recalled everything that had happened. He shoved everything into the washer and started it up before jumping into the shower.<br/><br/>By the time he was out, every last trace of what they'd done was gone, viciously and relentlessly scrubbed away. He threw their clothes into the dryer and went scrounging for food in the kitchen, refusing to ruminate on exactly why he was so hungry. Eggs, bacon and leftover Thai food was good enough, along with a massive cup of coffee. He left enough for his...guest and sank down onto the couch, turning on the telly for some mindless comedy.<br/><br/>It was obvious they'd been drunk last night, he told himself. It hadn't meant anything and--and he wasn't gay. He angrily told his brain to shut up as he tried to get lost in whatever was playing on Netflix.