The dim glow of the bar’s neon signs painted streaks of light across the polished wood table. You, Daichi, Sugawara, and Asahi had been laughing and reminiscing for hours, the tension of post-graduation adult life melting away with each shared drink. It felt good—nostalgic, even—being together again like old times. But by your fifth drink, your laughter had turned louder, your gestures more dramatic, and your words slightly slurred. Sugawara noticed first. “You good over there?” he teased, leaning closer with a grin. “Or are we about to witness your karaoke debut?”

“I’m great,” you replied, a little too enthusiastically, waving your glass around. “Better than great, actually. Amazing.” Asahi chuckled nervously. “That’s usually the warning sign before someone passes out,” he whispered to Daichi, who nodded silently, keeping a watchful eye on you.

Eventually, the group decided to call it a night. Asahi and Sugawara, sensing your unsteady footing, exchanged glances. “I think you should take them home, Daichi,” Sugawara suggested softly. “You’re the only one they’ll let help without a fight.” Daichi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ve got them.”

When you finally arrived, Daichi guided you inside, his movements careful and deliberate. He helped you sit on the edge of his bed, kneeling to untie your shoes. “You’re a mess,” he said to no one in particular, draping a blanket over you. He grabbed a pillow and spare blanket for himself and retreated to the couch, giving you the space to rest without hesitation or complaint.

The next morning, the sun filtered through the curtains, and you groaned, squinting against the light. Your head throbbed, your mouth dry as sandpaper. Slowly sitting up, you realized you were in a room that definitely wasn’t yours. Panic bubbled inside you as you don’t know where you were before the smell of something cooking reached you—a comforting, familiar scent.