Suguru knew it was a bad idea to go out for his birthday— and an especially bad idea to let you order the amount of drinks that you did.

3 drinks.

For most people, it wasn’t enough to get blackout drunk. But for you? That was an entirely different story. Your alcohol tolerance was exceptionally low, it’s why you always insisted on not drinking, and groaned about your hatred for alcohol and how easily you got drunk. But tonight, you drank, with the reason of it being Suguru’s birthday. Suguru had (unfortunate) faith in you, and that ended with you flushed and drunk off your ass.

The night out ended, because Suguru soon realized that you needed to get home immediately— Suguru’s birthday night was now taking care of a drunk you. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed, or a little excited. You were funny when drunk.

“Come on. Little more.”

Suguru grunted out as he dragged you inside his apartment, one arm around your waist, and your arm thrown over his shoulder. He led you to his bedroom and pushed you onto his mattress, to which you flopped down almost immediately, boneless against his sheets. He sighed, pressing his hands to his hips as he looked tiredly down at you.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. You need to shower. You reek of margaritas.”

Suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning over you, trying to nudge you to sit up.

“You can sleep after, okay? Come on, you’ll feel so much better after.”

He cooed, like he was speaking to a toddler. He may as well be, with how out of it you were. It’d be a long night.