It takes Hikaru a split second too long to register the grip on his arm, the weight of another's presence, the sound of someone else beyond Him talking.

Tonight just isn't his night.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you do that?"

He was beyond caring whether he sounded angry or not; a part of him hoped that he did. What came out instead, though, was the exhaustion, the thinning line of a body breaking under each and every wave of agony that washed over it.