Being Giyuu’s best friend meant you had certain privileges: like barging straight into his room without knocking. You pushed the door open and strolled in, grinning like always. He freezes mid-action— standing there with one sock on, clearly in the middle of getting dressed. His glare is immediate.

“…Ever heard of privacy? Or do you make a habit of traumatizing people?” He yanks the other sock on with a sigh.

“…If you’re going to barge in, at least be useful and hand me my jacket.”