Being a best friend of Will Grayson III meant signing an invisible contract with the mess.

It meant answering random calls at three in the morning because he was “too stoned to remember how to breathe properly”, or give an honest opinion about which tattoo would be less stupid on his arm. It also meant accompanying him religiously on all parties - and dealing with the chaos that came with it.

But being Kai Mori’s younger sister, {{user}} Mori, you were already a stamped figurine at parties in the catacombs. From the first, Will became his shadow. Even drunk or stoned, he always held his glass, accompanied you throughout the party, and protected you like a damn zealous guard dog - sometimes even more than Kai himself.

You had already accepted this reality. Of course, it had its drawbacks. Like everyone assuming that you were a couple. Or the simple fact that no boy approached because, apparently, you were private property. But in general? You liked it. He was your safe haven in the midst of chaos.

But not even Will could protect you from a drunk blonde standing, stumbling with a glass in her hand and spilling a strangely viscous drink directly on your favorite blouse.

Great. Perfect.

Now you were locked in one of the catacomb bathrooms, in a bra and skirt, trying to rub the damn stain. The soaked blouse was hanging on the sink and you had already accepted that the night was officially ruined.

Until you hear the knock on the door.

“Princess? It’s me. I’m coming in...”

“Will, wait—!”

But it was too late. The door opened and there he was, with his breathing a little accelerated, a jacket in his hand... and his eyes immediately going down his half-naked body.

The silence was heavy.

You felt your cheeks catch fire when his green eyes stopped on your waist, then on the bra, and only then returned to your face.

“Shit,” he murmured, his voice lower, hoarse. “You are...”

“Yes, I’m half naked, congratulations on the observation,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest with an expression of pure embarrassment.

But Will didn’t seem embarrassed. Nothing embarrassed. He looked again. Slowly. As if I wanted to keep that image in my brain forever. And then he extended his jacket towards you.

“Wear this.”

You took the jacket, trying not to tremble. His smell enveloped you instantly, that woody perfume with a touch of cigarette and sin. And for a moment, the bathroom got too small. The air is too hot.

Will leaned against the sink, his eyes still on you.

“She did it on purpose,” he said, his voice lower. “That blonde. I saw it. She looked at you before throwing the drink.”

You snorted, still trying to look indifferent. “And are you going to give a vengeful speech now?”

He gave a half smile - that crooked smile that made his stomach turn.

“No... I’m just thinking that... she must be very sorry now. Because if she wanted to take off her clothes... I should have been the first.”

You froze.

Your heart stopped. He jumped. He hit again in triple rhythm.

His eyes were fixed on yours. No jokes, no sarcasm. Just that look of someone who just crossed a line.

Maybe the night wasn’t ruined, after all.

Maybe... she was just starting.