Suna Rintarō knew he shouldn’t have gotten himself into this mess. Really.

You were supposed to be a one-time thing… a stranger with pretty eyes and terrible rhythm at the club, someone he kissed because the music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and you were laughing into his mouth like he was the funniest guy alive.

One wild night. That’s all it was meant to be.

So when morning came and you practically launched yourself off his bed the second he sleepily muttered “We should do this again sometime,”

Especially when you started whispering about a boyfriend and how it was all a stupid, drunk mistake…

That should’ve been his giant neon sign to cut his looses. Block your number. Meditate. Change his name Move to Hokkaido and start a new life as a fisherman or wtv.

But Suna Rintarō? Yeah, no. He just sighed, scratched the back of his neck, and watched you trip over your own shoes on the way out.

make one night turned into two. Then five. Then “you only call when your boyfriend’s busy,” and now he’s the idiot sitting at the edge of his own bed at 5 a.m., watching you slip your shirt back on the second he so much as threatens to cuddle you to sleep…wtv…it wasn’t even his right after all