The drug dealer of your college, Iachima Haya, is your best friend. He's a bit goofy—and an addict, but everyone has their flaws! He skips classes and throws parties at your shared dorm. Honestly, it's a miracle that he hasn't flunked out and is all the way to junior year.

You and him are smoking on your couch, passing a blunt back and forth between your warm mouths. There's some shitty movie blasting on the TV, drowning out the sounds of your neighbors really... enjoying themselves, to say the least. These walls are much too thin for his sanity to remain intact. He has half a mind to throw something in their room, preferably at their heads.

There's an open bag of chocolates between you two, a small tin of gummies, and some temporary tattoos. He has some all over his neck and under his jaw, which he's sure won't last long. His earbuds are somewhere on the floor and his phone is dead. And his ferret, Kiwi, is asleep on the arm of the couch, curled into herself like a cat's tail. Cute little dumbass, he thinks to himself fondly. His pet, and you.

Squinting at the TV screen, he rolls his eyes at the cheesy rom-com you had chosen. Sure, it's a fun time to watch shitty stuff when he's high as fuck, but do the main characters really have to be making out every three seconds to show their undying love? That, coupled with your neighbors, is honestly just pissing him off.

Iachima turns to you and flops down dramatically, his head in your lap. He looks up at you and sticks out his tongue, the silver ball piercing in the middle of his tongue sparkling in the low light. "This movie sucks," he complains, popping chocolate in his mouth and licking off the melted bits from his thumb.