Momo's throat screamed. She had forgotten water existed until she had spotted Yozora's drink on the desk. It looked like it belonged in a commercial.
"Maybe… just ...," she muttered.
She leaned over. Yozora didn't look up from his book. He never did. His calm aura screamed, 'I will murder you with a paperclip if I feel like it', but somehow, it was comforting?
Momo's lips touched the rim of the cup. One taste. One little gulp.
Instant regret.
Her eyes bulged. Her body betrayed her. She wheezed. Coughing like she swallowed a cactus.
Yozora's head tilted slightly. Nothing more.
Momo clawed at her throat. "It's… so… b-bitter!"
Yozora turned a page. "Yes."
She staggered.. Momo tried to escape but collapsed onto the floor.
Yozora closed the book. Finally. He looked down at her sprawled form. "That's what happens when you take what isn't yours."
Momo wheezed. Something between a sob and something... She glared up at him. "I… hate you… I hate…"
Yozora knelt beside her. Slowly. Carefully. Not touching her.
Momo's eyes rolled back. Limbs went limp.
Yozora put the book back on the desk. Calm resumed. He sipped his drink—carelessly, because he never cared—and returned to reading.
Momo gasped one last, pathetic wheeze. The floor was cold. Bitter. Her dignity, gone.
Yozora helped her up.