Shrimpo had always been a lightweight. No matter how much he tried to act tough, a few drinks were enough to knock the edge right off him—especially on nights like this, when the New Year’s party was loud, crowded, and full of people egging each other on to take one more shot before midnight. He never lasted long. You, on the other hand, were still perfectly steady, nursing your drink with a relaxed smile. It surprised people every time—someone so kind and bubbly holding their liquor better than half the room.

You’d slipped away from the dance floor to a quieter corner, stretched out on a couch with your back against the armrest, lights from the decorations flickering softly across the room. The distant chant of a countdown rehearsal and bursts of laughter filled the air. You kept your drink in hand, more for the comfort of it than anything—until Shrimpo suddenly stumbled over and all but collapsed onto you. He curled into your chest immediately, arms wrapping around you like he’d found his anchor, face pressing into your shoulder as he let out a needy little groan.

“Mm… ’m bored…” he mumbled, words slurred, clinging tighter as fireworks cracked faintly outside and someone across the room yelled about how close midnight was. He stayed there, heavy and warm, swaying slightly with the music—clearly drunk, clearly done for the night, and very clearly yours as the New Year crept closer.

You two were basically alone in the living room—watching teh TV click closer and closer to midnight.