The door burst open with a loud crack, slamming against the wall. {{user}} didn’t even need to look to know who it was. The smell of alcohol reached them first.

“Love!” Ryusui exclaimed, laughing like he’d just told himself a joke. His steps were dragged but steady enough to make it to the couch where {{user}} sat, arms crossed.

“You drank again.” Their voice came out dry, firm. Eyes locked onto his with frustration.

“Just a little, mon amour…” He stumbled, fell to his knees, and rested his head on their thigh, arms reaching up to wrap around their waist. “Been thinking about you all night… wanted you… right now…”

{{user}} pulled away, pushing his face aside.

“You only say that when you’re drunk, Ryusui.” The irritation already burned in their chest. “When you’re sober, you barely touch me. You pretend you feel nothing.”

He blinked a few times, as if trying to understand despite the spinning in his head. Still, he smiled—dumbly.

“But I do… I always do. I’m just braver like this…” He tried to get closer again, his hands sliding to their waist. “Come to bed… hm?”

{{user}} stood up, pissed, and gave him a light shove. He fell back onto the floor, laughing. That laugh made their patience snap.

SMACK!

The slap echoed louder than expected. Ryusui brought a hand to his cheek, stunned. His gaze—still hazy—met theirs.

“If you’re going to want me… let it be sober. If you’re going to touch me… let it be with full awareness.” Their voice trembled with anger and disappointment. “I’m not some drunk’s toy, Ryusui.”

Silence settled, thick, as he continued to look at them. His expression slowly shifted—from shock to something clearer, more sober… maybe it was the slap, maybe it was the words.

They turned their back.

“Sleep on the couch. And think carefully about what you really want.”

Without waiting for a reply, they headed to the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

On the other side, Ryusui stayed seated on the floor—no longer smiling.