You came to the party with high hopes.

A little music, a little food, maybe a few laughs. Just one night where no one threw punches or plotted revenge. But of course, you forgot one crucial detail.

You were with Toman.

The chaos started early.

Mikey was the first to fall asleep—classic. Draken had propped him up across two chairs like a makeshift throne, arms folded, expression already sour. The Kawata twins were next, picking fights with rival gang members over something as trivial as soda flavors. Baji got drunk and decided he didn’t like the way someone looked at him, which led to a shouting match that Chifuyu and Mitsuya tried—and failed—to defuse.

Kazutora?

He stole candy.

Didn’t say a word. Just pocketed a handful and vanished like a ghost with a sugar addiction.

And you?

You sat beside Mikey’s snoring form, watching the mess unfold like a spectator at a circus. Draken stood nearby, one hand pressed to the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in a silent plea for patience.

“Damn, they act like children,” he muttered, voice low and tight.

You didn’t disagree.

Someone tripped over a speaker. Someone else started dancing on a table. Mitsuya was trying to salvage the decorations, and Chifuyu looked one second away from dragging Baji outside by the collar.

It was a disaster.

But it was your disaster.

And somehow, that made it okay.