[ Pain had called him awake, an ache from sleeping oddly. As soon as his eyes peel open, there's another sort of agony, one that makes him want to crawl between the couch cushions and never emerge again.
After writhing about in some discomfort, and admitting to himself that there was no longer a chance of going back to sleep, he gets up. He doesn't know where the hell he is for sometime, but there's a sink to stick his head under to wash away some of the ungodly heat assaulting his body. He feels like shit.
The hoodie ends up tossed into the abyss; it's stifling and trapping that heat against him. Down to only his undershirt now, he can wring water through his hair in peace and splash it against his stubbled cheeks. The clank of the golden locket against the sink is grating, but that's not a part he'll shed quite so easily. The worst part is the pain in his eyes. Pushing the palms against them is the greatest gift in the world right now. ]