#you got more than you probably bargained for draken

[deathfavor]

@kisumshi said: "what made you this way?" dorahan

send 🍻 + a question for my muse's drunken (honest) answer

Hanma doesn't normally drink to the point of actually being drunk. There are times though, like tonight, where it happens be it intentional or accidental. ( It's the former in this case.) But he's only ever once drank to the point of blacking out and never since. He's seriously contemplating it in the face of that question and he promptly settles on another shot that's definitely going to fuck him up later. But who gives a shit? Not Hanma. Not any other fucking soul on this planet will either. ( Liar. He can see Draken's expression and it makes his stomach curl unpleasantly because Draken probably does even when he shouldn't. Because Draken's just too fucking nice. He shouldn't care about Hanma at all. Hanma thinks Draken's niceness will be Draken's own downfall and he dreads the thought of that. ) His throat burns and he can't tell if its the alcohol or something else.

" What way? So fucked up? " Hanma asks with a bark of laughter that rings hollow in his ears. " Same pathetic sob story as pretty much everyone else. " He responds, staring at the glass in his hand with something close to disdain. " Pathetic excuse of a mother who'd rather be drunk and sleeping around and whatever other shit she does. If she's still around anyways. Don't know who my father is, probably dead or locked up or some shit like that. " He takes another large drink from the bottle, winces at the burn but doesn't complain - he grins, bitter and angry in a way he doesn't normally show. Maybe he doesn't even realize that anger himself. " Pops tried to care for me whenever my mom dropped me off at his place before she started to forget and left me on my own. I think he pitied me and that pissed me off so I became a little hellion. Ran away before I was even ten and been living on the streets most of the time since. Disappointment runs in the family I guess. " He laughs, and laughs but it's not an amused laugh.

He finishes the bottle and sets it aside, staring ahead. " Got into shit I shouldn't have way too young, saw things I shouldn't, probably broke a few things up here. " He taps his head as he stretches out his legs and grins, teeth hiding an empty void that fills his skin. He swears if he breathes he'll hear it echo between his spine and his ribs. " Then I just...stopped feeling anything at some point when i was young. I fought and broke shit just to feel something. Wanted to be entertained somehow. Wanted to have people's attention but even that faded. Especially when I was winning fights all the time. Thrill of it all wore off and i was so bored all the time again. " Hanma spreads his arms with a laugh. " Yet here I still fucking am. Fucked up six ways from Sunday and then some. " He snickers, turning towards Draken.

His expression falls, turns flat and lifeless as he stares at the blonde. " That shit what you want to fucking hear, Draken? " He knows damn well Draken's seen the ugly bruises the decorate his skin tonight and reckless shit he's done recently. And Hanma doesn't care. Doesn't care when he's choking on blood or fucking with shit he probably shouldn't. " Wanna know all the sort of fucked up shit survived? That I've done? " He asks, a manic tone creeping back into his voice with masochistic delight.

He leans closer towards Draken, words forced out from his clenched jaw. " I don't need any of your damn pity, got it? You can take it and shove it somewhere else. " He hates the thought of it all, but he can't take back what he's spilled in his drunken state. He can just drink enough to forget he's said anything. His head falls, his whole body slouching as he leans on Draken' shoulder despite the way he'd snapped like a wounded animal. His voice softens. " Doesn't matter. None of this crap does. I don't give a shit for these gangs. I just...." He heaves a tired sigh, eyes closing for a minute and leaving whatever he started to say unfinished.

He's fucked up - he never should've said any of that shit because he doubts Draken's the kind of person who can just forget. " I hate nice guys like you. " Hanma comments quietly; it lacks any venom or bite or malice. It just sounds like a bone-deep exhaustion. It isn't true and he doubts either of them believe it, because if Hanma truly hated him, he wouldn't be here drinking with him. He wouldn't cook for him, wouldn't text him, wouldn't stay over, wouldn't let his mask drop or curl up to Draken at night, he wouldn't do any of this shit. That, Hanma thinks, is the worst part. He doesn't hate it.

Hanma lifts his head after several minutes of being so still that one could be forgiven for thinking he fell asleep. " Can you hand me another bottle? I'm already this fucked up, might as well keep going till I forget. Just drop me off at the hospital if it seems like I got alcohol poisoning. " He laughs, pathetic and exhausted but too lazy to fight to get another drink. Maybe he's had enough to forget by the morning anyways. His head falls back against Draken's shoulder, hair flat from its usual spiked state as his eyes seem distant and devoid of life despite how his chest raises and falls to prove otherwise.