You had attended a mutual friend’s wedding with Aizawa. Technically he was considered your plus one, a partner, but everything that evening was wrong. You were just friends, something you wanted more of just that, but couldn’t say out loud.

During the bride's bouquet toss you both sat at the table with a glass of Sakura champagne. It was sweet and delicate. Almost as delicate as the bundle of flowers that landed on his lap. A “signify” that he’d be getting married in the next year or so. You laughed, maybe having one too many drinks. Seeing his face contort as people started to whisper, the music pumping back up.