Winters in Yokohama were fairly cold, but in your drunken out state, your skin felt flushed, blood rushing to the complexion of your cheeks.

Clear thoughts were a foreign concept as you stumbled out of the bar with Chuuya tightly grasping your wrist, barely hearing a word he said as he berated you for how drunk out of your brains you were. Even in your intoxicated state, you could hear the faint traces of concern laced in his tone as he tried sitting you on his parked motorcycle.

“Damnit, {{user}}, can’t you think before you act for once in your godforsaken life?” Chuuya sighed, grabbing your shoulders to try and keep you upright on the motorcycle’s seat. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, the air that left his mouth visible in the winter air. Your idiotic, intoxicated grin only seemed to both anger and concern him deeper.