Afraid of the dark (DBH)

-.Dream Sweet in Sea Major.-

His breathing shallow and his body heavy. He could taste, smell and sense the small droplets of pure alcohol emanating from his sweating forehead, drying his lips and keeping his eyes shut with the strength of a headache that lingered beyond it's bedtime.

Elrich managed to pick himself off of the bed, feeling something else stuck to his forehead as the room danced from side to side in the complete silence of chirping morning birds, wobbling along with the static noise that were his thoughts, buzzing as his fingers clumsily grabbed onto the piece of paper. An obscene shade of yellow, neon, sticky note.

'You drank too much, there's breakfast done downstairs. Hopefully it isn't cold by the time you get there. I'll be back soon.'

The writing too perfect to be human, the small lines and precision of thoughts, plastered into a piece of heaven knows what paper is made out of these days.

With a groan, the man sat onto the bed and allowed his legs to dangle off of it before touching the ground and hearing the pounding of his head, the sunshine peeking through onto the nonchalant man in underwear and little else, a bottle of vodka lying just as graciously next to him like a partner in his bed.

"What the fuck- me..." Morning.

Elrich allowed the same hand that still held the paper to run through his own hair, his locks messy and a dark almost black shade of brown, brushing it back in the process to reveal his decorative eye. He said he would get it patched up recently, after having lost it in a very peculiar setting that now a days formed a big part of why he didn't tolaterate most androids. If any at all.

He crumbled the piece of paper and threw it into one of the corners of the room, the sound of a roomba suddenly audible as a small robotic machine moved to grab the object.

He rubbed his face a couple of times, his eyes bloodshot and dark eye bags a top of his dark skin, a clear pink contrast were a scar had healed over.

Decorative eye, as in the only reason it was still there was because it was easier than taking it out. Mostly blind by cataracts, not hereditary or from old age, a clear cut just above his eyebrow and down to the start of his eyelid revealed that it was one cause by a blunt hit to his eye. Trauma induced cataracts, easily preventable if you're willing to tell the doctor how you got hit so badly. Which is exactly why it was still there.

Once he was mostly back on his two feet he moved himself to the bathroom, the floor there changing material and making his feet colder than needed. He washed his face briefly and looked at himself in the mirror, the water dripping down and clinging onto the little stubble he had grown from basically refusing to shave every single day. He knew just a splash of water wouldn't be enough, so he just quickly undressed and got into the shower, the water a welcomed heat on his sore neck.

"The fucking day I wake up without a hangover... or a sore neck... Damn it I feel old as fuck..." Elrich groaned to himself, grumpy in the shower, jokingly self pitying as he washed himself off.

He was out of it soon enough, of course, making sure to dissociate for a couple of minutes as he dreamt of...

Well. Stuff. That's why it's called dissociative syndrome.

Elrich wasn't diagnosed for anything at all, but the main reason he had a droid living with him was just that. If you have problems you don't want to discuss with people, you do it with someone who isn't... people. So Elrich bought himself a mental aid droid, all while in the middle of a hangover and a slight schizophrenic attack. Truly a one of a kind experience. But really, at this point 'hangover' was just his default, if you can consider that the other half of the time the man was drunk, then recovering from that drunkenly state, only to slip down again into the next flask of whiskey.