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“Uh, Nagi?” A trepidatious voice calls out from the other side of the bathroom door. “Should I call 911? You’ve been non-stop vomiting for, like, an hour.”
“Just a second..."
Nagi frantically stuffs the suit into a wicker laundry basket and closes the lid. He gives the toilet a useless flush, pauses the gagging sounds coming from his phone, and quietly shuts the open window. It’s as inconspicuous as the rookie superhero can manage.
His cautious hand moves to open the door.
“Holy shit,” Reo gasps once the other boy comes into view. “Oh my god, wh– what happened in there?!” Immediately, it’s not a positive comment for Nagi’s cover-up.
His stunned friend grazes a newly raised spot on his forehead, which causes Nagi to wince in immense pain. If the tenderness is any indicator, there's a hematoma taking shape right above his left eyebrow.
So his quick trip to East 6th Street had come with a surprise souvenir. What a pain.
“I…” Nagi really needs to stop being lazy when dodging blows. “... hit my head... on the toilet… ”
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