Mr. "IS IT GOOD ITS MY FIRST TIME" made a thing.

Whoop whoop, I made a thing.
--

Daylight. The All-powerful force of "fuck you, sleep" that somehow always manages to find its way into your room, despite having curtains drawn on the one window you have in your cramped apartment. This time it managed to find a crack at the edge of the window. It’s accompanied by a mild headrush as you sit up in your bed, trying to get out of the light that so rudely woke you. Nature must hate you.
Or maybe it's because it's one in the afternoon, you muse after checking your phone. Either way works.
You honestly have no clue what you did last night (and possibly in the early morning), and that scares you. Normally when you get drunk you remember something, not to mention you have no hangover to speak of.
Maybe you took drugs?
Honestly at this point you don't care what you did last night. You still have all your stuff, and you're in your own apartment, so it can't have been too bad.

You stumble over to the nearby sink and splash your face with water, blinking as you finally reach full consciousness. That's one perk of living in a small apartment; nothing is very far away. You really should get out for a walk, though. For some reason your ankles are aching and feel really stiff, and you can bet it's because you probably haven't walked more than 100 meters in the past week.

You throw on a pair of shoes and your old pair of jeans and take a look in your mirror. Slightly-too-long hair, minimal stubble, shirt that is only one colour… Yup, you look just presentable enough for people not to think you're a rapist.
The best kind of presentable.



You take your phone off charge and walk out the door after a quick glance around your apartment. Hopefully some exercise and fresh air will help loosen your aching joints, which now include your hands, you notice. That’s probably from too much typing at your computer, you shrug. Being a web developer isn’t so bad, but you should really find a job with less risk of RSI.

Or maybe it’s from all that clopping you do. Whatever.

You ride the elevator down to the bottom floor, scratching your beard idly. For some reason, it doesn’t feel as scratchy as usual. You think nothing of it.

The elevator stops and the doors open to reveal your neighbour Sarah waiting patiently. Her shiny, blonde hair hangs down past her shoulders in a cute, slightly messy style that makes her look relaxed. You’re sure she spent a lot of time getting it that way, though.

“Hi anon! Haven’t seen you in a while” she comments as you step out of the elevator, allowing her to walk in and push the button for your floor.
“And what’s up with your eyes?”
Before you can ask her to elaborate, the doors slide shut, cutting you off from her.
You’ve had a pretty big crush on her for a long time now, and you’re pretty sure she’s noticed. Not that there’s any chance she’d go for an unwashed nerd like you. Nobody would. You sigh.


Also, what did she mean by your eyes? They don’t feel odd. You rub them carefully with your slightly numb fingers - maybe there was something in them you hadn't felt, somehow. Finding nothing, you opt to go into the lobby toilets and check in the mirror.

You lean into the door and push it open - for some reason the door seems a lot heavier than it should. Thankfully nobody else is in here. You walk straight over to the mirrors and look at your eyes. Anything in them? Nope. Bags under eyes? A bit, but no more than usual. Irises?
Oh shit.

You’re no expert, but you’re pretty sure you didn’t have green eyes before.
Huh.
You lean closer in to the mirror, getting a closer look at your deep green irises. This is really weird. Do you have some kind of eye infection? Your eyes certainly don’t feel infected. You know this should be a big deal to you, but right now you really can’t be bothered to worry about it. You can get it looked at by a doctor later, you figure. There’s no point freaking out yet. Besides, your eyes look kinda nice this way. You chuckle quietly to yourself as you exit the toilets, and head towards the front door.

This is one weird morning.
No, wait. Afternoon. Whatever.