#profnikolai

The mead hits somewhere between walking up the grand staircase and diving onto his mattress, hiccups jolting him every few seconds and accompanied by soft protesting groans in between. “Do you ever-” tremor, followed by an ugly, irritated sound. Though the alcohol allows him to recover quickly and he starts up again as though nothing had happened.”- think about what it would be like to be a student again?” He rolls over onto his side, all murky eyes and mussed hair with his jacket still fastened tight around his torso because even slight inebriation makes him forget about these trivial things; proper etiquette requiring one to take their jacket off at the door and secondly their shoes, both details he’s carried with him as he struggles to slide underneath his duvet.  “Sometimes when I watch them it’s like I forget how much time has passed for myself, how it’s been ten--” this halt in speech, bubble in his throat, welcomes furrowed brows “--nearly eleven years since I was their age and almost nineteen years since I first started my education at Ilvermorny.” Changmin laughs but the sound weighs heavy, sad sounding upon his tongue.  “I feel so old, Nikolai. It’s like I already have one foot in my grave.”