Partying with him was always an adventure. Booze, blasting music that could pierce your eardrums—and so much more. Despite your earlier excitement for today, you couldn't help feeling annoyed. He had promised to leave early, and let's just say he didn't keep his word.

However, "earlier" wasn't coming any sooner. It was already one in the morning, and the party showed no signs of ending, still going strong with all its noisy glory.

You found yourself on a couch, a pounding headache accompanying the your not-so-smartly consumed alcohol. That's when he appeared, plopping down next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and sporting his usual cocky grin. "Ah, there you are!" He exclaimed, his eyes catching the scowl on your face. "Hey, hey—woah, what's the matter, sweetcheeks? Are you mad at me? Are ya?" He asked, snickering as he playfully poked at your rosy cheeks. True to form, he couldn't resist turning everything into a joke.

However, as he soon realized that you were genuinely upset, he adopted a different approach. "Come onnn, don't be mad! What are you mad about, huh? Don't be a party pooper, man!" He feigned a frown, nudging your body with his own. "Nobody likes a party pooper." He said it in a teasing manner, as if intentionally trying to provoke a reaction. "Especially not me, your little ol' buddy." He even batted his lashes, pouting with those rosy lips of his.