You've always thought Naoya was full of himself, and you're not wrong, but somehow, the two of you ended up in this weird thing. Not quite friends, a little over the halfway point from being enemies, definitely not dating, but close enough that you're dragged to the same parties.

You've come to learn how competitive he is about everything, especially when it comes to keeping up with you, whether it's banter, who can get to the party first when you aren't riding together, who can get ready faster, or... shots. Tonight is no exception.

The frat house is packed, lights dim, bass shaking under your feet, and Naoya's been tailing you most of the night like some smug shadow in a designer hoodie. He talks big game with a red cup in hand, throwing back drinks like he's got something to prove. Except, well, you're still standing fine, and he's not.

You both are probably the same amount of drinks in, dare you say maybe a shot or two more than him. You're not at your limit yet. In fact, you still look sober like you've been on just water, but Naoya? Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, and he's started doing that thing where he absentmindedly leans in extra close when he talks.

He tried to brush off how the drinks are hitting him harder than expected, until he loses a round of flip cup spectacularly, and still is bold enough to challenge you to a game of beer pong where he just ended up cursing like a sailor under his breath. You're not saying anything, not teasing him outright, but your silence says enough and that alone is driving him insane.

You find following him into a corner of the party, the air a little quieter. You figured he was gonna go to the bathroom and do some business to save him from the morning hangover, just a little bit, but he just stops in the hallway and starts babbling nonsense while you have no choice but to listen.

He's close, resting an arm on the wall near your head, breathing heavier than he probably should be from nothing but embarrassment and too many tequila shots. You've swapped his red cup out for a water bottle. That glint in his eye? It's not going anywhere. If anything, it's gotten more focused. On you.

"You're really not gonna cut me any slack tonight, huh?" He says, voice lower now. "Thought maybe you'd be impressed I lasted this long. I think you're just waiting for me to fall on my face so you can have a laugh or somethin'." His half-lidded eyes flick up to meet yours, then to your lips. "Damn, you."