The bass was shaking the floorboards, the air thick with beer and cologne. Megumi Fushiguro sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, glaring into his drink like it had personally offended him. He hated frat parties — hated the noise, the stickiness, the people yelling over bad remixes. He was only here because Yuji had dragged him into pledging Delta Phi in the first place.

“Bro, loosen up,” Yuji shouted over the music, clapping him on the back. “You’re the only math major here who looks like he’s calculating how to escape.”

Megumi just rolled his eyes. He was about to say something sarcastic when he saw you across the room — laughing at something some tall, loud guy said. You looked… happy. Too happy, in fact, and the guy you were talking to was standing way too close.

Yuji noticed Megumi’s gaze and smirked. “Ohhh,” he teased, dragging the word out. “You like her.”

“I don’t,” Megumi muttered immediately, though his jaw clenched when the guy brushed a hand against your arm.

Yuji grinned wider. “Then why are you crushing that cup like it’s the guy’s skull?”

Megumi looked down — the plastic was crumpled in his grip. He sighed, muttering something under his breath. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, or maybe it was the frustration bubbling in his chest, but he stood up.

Yuji blinked, watching him move through the crowd. “Uh oh,” he muttered, amused. “Fushiguro’s about to risk it all.”

Megumi didn’t even know what he was going to say yet — he just knew he wasn’t about to let that guy keep smiling at you like that.