If I said we (as in the 'time lord' and I) are screwed, that would just belittle the situation by shrinking it with a shrink ray because we are not screwed—we are royally screwed with a capital S, a capital C, a capital R, and capitals E-W-E-D if 'ewed' is even a four-letter word in the dictionary. You can gawk at me like I'm crazy and ask, "Why are you saying this, Juudai?" in which I will take the shovel lying next to me and ram my skull into it, hoping to pass out from the impact. Yes, I am crazy. I am crazy like a fox. You would be crazy like a fox too if you were stuck in my predicament. Here I am, an innocent 16-year-old boy who has never produced a single perverted thought outside my own little bubble of food, dueling, and friends suddenly thrown into a chaotic universe where my self-conscience is a bigger threat than the spiders weaving webs into the crack of the decaying walls. This chaotic universe consists of a rickety old toolshed, accompanied by a colossal storm brewing outside, the prospect of spending another hour with no heat and no water—
—and to top it all off, there is a person of the same gender lying on top of me right now.
Yeah, about that bubble? He has already intruded my mental bubble as well as my physical one; I mean he burst my bubble of personal space after a little accident. Now I'm really uncomfortable. It has less to do with the water seeping into my socks and more to do with his hands curling around my body. I draw a breath as he squirms around and finds a comfortable, non-bony spot on my chest to sink his head in. Under the thin layer of my shirt, I feel his cheek press against my ribcage. His lips move up and down and inaudible words escape his mouth. I swear I'll go insane if he continues keeping this up.
He's not doing this on purpose to torture you, I keep telling myself in an attempt to retain my sanity. His body on autopilot is just seeking a heat source and you're the main furnace in this toolshed right now. It's a completely natural survival instinct that kicked in when the storm took a turn for the worse and he lost consciousness in a misfortune that was your fault.
Well, I know for a fact that a conscious Edo Phoenix would never degrade himself to hugging another person's torso for heat no matter how cold it is outside, but this isn't a conscious Edo Phoenix lying on top of me. Oh, no, Kami-sama decided to award my heroic deeds of saving mankind from being obliterated by presenting me with an unconscious Edo Phoenix. (Some reward.)
Even so, you're older than him. You're more mature than him. He's expecting you to look out for him while his mind lollygags on vacation in the Bahamas.
Pfft, my self-conscience is so off the target it's not even funny. He's not expecting me to look out for him…as a matter of fact I think he'd get angry if I did look out for him. Edo can do fine without my help; he beat me in a duel after all. You may think, "So what?" but you got to understand my mind frame. I'm still a tad bit bitter about my defeat (just a tad) and his sassy personality isn't doing anything to help repair the stitches of resentment. But at this present moment and time, he's neither sassy nor arrogant for he's unconscious and he's on top of me, twitching all suggestively—oh sorry, did I mention that already?
Edo mumbles some more and no matter how close his mouth is to my body, I'm unable to distinguish his words. He's saying a word starting with the letter 't'. But let's face it—playing guessing games with his English lingo isn't my biggest priority right now. My biggest priority is to stay alive and stay sane until this storm is over. Believe you me, the latter of the two will be twice as hard to accomplish. Darned hormonal stages.
...sigh. I think it's time for us to assess the situation.
Number one—There is a huge storm outside that's preventing either of us from leaving the current shelter apparatus. It's huge. HUGE. I can't even describe how huge it is with mere words. I would have to drag you into this moldy toolshed so you could wince when the ice-cold droplets of rainwater leak from the roof onto your forehead and feel the blasts of chilly March wind make the hairs on your skin stand up to an end. Yeah. I'm no math genius like Misawa but mathematically speaking: Huge storm plus no heat plus wet wet wet equals a perfect opportunity for hypothermia to strike. (I want an A for the quarter, Chronos-sensei.)
Number two—I'm caught between two bi-temperatures of freezing-my-butt-off cold thanks to the weather and ridiculously hot because of Mr. Time Lord who insists on attaching himself around my waist. (Damn you Edo, just damn you!)
And lovely number three—I can't push said boy in question off because I'm a sissy and I don't want to be accused of attempted molestation once he wakes up. Edo and I are barely on good terms (we're on talkable terms; I guess I have to thank Mizuchi for that) and if he magically regains conscious on a precisely wrong moment to find himself in this depraved situation, he might just get the wrong idea and I'll be in this big lollapalooza orgy before my high school education ends.
Yeah, things are great. Fabulous. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my Friday afternoon: stuck in a wooden shack, teeth chattering, heart pounding, surrounded by sweaty gym equipment, and to top the sundae with a cherry—having Edo Phoenix lie on top of me.