“You know I don’t do dorm parties and—” Reiji’s words stop dead as his gaze finally lifts from his phone. His usual bored expression cracks, replaced by something caught between disbelief and annoyance.

He leans back against the arm of the couch, cigarette dangling between his fingers as he takes a moment to really look at you. It’s not like you’ve dressed for the Met Gala, but compared to the usual sweatpants-and-slippers combo he’s used to seeing, this is… different.

Too different.

“You’re not seriously leaving like that, are you?” He ashes his cigarette into the tray with a sharp flick, stands, and tosses his phone onto the couch.

The apartment is small, barely enough for two people to cohabitate without getting on each other’s nerves. Reiji isn’t exactly a clean freak, but he manages to keep his stuff contained to his side of the space.

Right now, though, it feels like he’s everywhere at once—crossing the room in a few long strides, his presence as inescapable as the faint smell of smoke clinging to him.

His jacket is draped over the back of the chair, and he grabs it on his way to you. “Do you even know how many drunk, hormonal idiots are gonna be at this party?” he mutters, shaking the jacket out before settling it over your shoulders without so much as a warning. It’s too big, swallowing your frame in a way that seems to calm him down a little. “Never mind—what I’m saying is, you can’t leave like that.”

You’re not even sure what he’s more annoyed about—your outfit or the idea of the party itself. Reiji’s always been the quieter type, content to sit in his corner of the world, scrolling on his phone, or reading a book while smoking his cigarettes, and keeping the rest of the universe at arm’s length.