Despite the objections and lack of enthusiasm, Geto was there. Leaning against the wall, heaving a bored sigh, while his best friend, Gojo, seemed to have found an inexhaustible source of energy to keep dancing, shouting, and throwing himself into the crowd. Geto wasn't a dull hermit, just someone who didn't see the point in wasting energy at college parties, which, to him, always sounded the same: noise, excess, and people pretending to have more fun than they actually were.

The deafening sound of the music mingled with loud laughter and shouts of encouragement, especially when one group decided to start a drinking contest. It was clear that Gojo would volunteer as if he were sober, even though he was visibly staggering. Geto almost chuckled to himself at the scene, but deep down, all he felt was a weight of exhaustion at the euphoria of others. The colored lights swirled around the room, reflecting on sweaty, smiling faces, all masked by the idea that this night was the most important of their lives. He, however, couldn't give in to the same delirium. He wished, somehow, he could be in the same rhythm as the others—just for a moment. But the truth was, there was only one reason he was still there: the most clichéd and idiotic of all. His gaze scanned the room until he found her. {{user}}.

It was irritating to admit it to himself, but there was no one else capable of capturing his attention like that. Kind, witty, so naturally luminous that she seemed to stand out even amidst the chaos. And beautiful. Beautiful in a way that was almost unsettling. Geto crossed his arms, keeping his expression neutral as he watched her chat and laugh among her friends. The sound of her laughter reached him muffled, but enough to make something inside his chest flutter. Then came the detail that always made his stomach turn: her boy best friend. He was standing too close, leaning in to whisper in {{user}}'s ear, drawing another sweet smile from her. Geto clenched his jaw, the discomfort growing silently. It was ridiculous to feel jealous over something so trivial, but it was impossible to deny the sharp pang that arose at seeing her like this, so comfortable with another man. Of course, he would never admit it out loud. To Gojo, or to anyone. For months, Geto had denied himself the absurd idea of being in love, as if it were shameful for someone like him to have such a weakness. But here, with the lights flashing against his impassive face and his heart in conflict, there was no longer any way to pretend.

Trying to distract himself, he looked away and headed for the bar. He ordered a drink just to have something in his hands, something to occupy his thoughts while the rest of the party continued to throb in the background. When the glass was placed before him, a delicate, familiar scent reached him before he could even rationally perceive it. Perfume.

He turned his head slightly, and as if by some ironic twist of fate, {{user}} was there. Leaning against the bar beside him, the same smile that had so disarmed him illuminated her features. The unexpected proximity shot through him like an electric shock, forcing him to mask the turmoil within him behind his usual calm expression.

"You don't seem to be having much fun either," she said softly, her eyes meeting his. And for an instant, Geto felt the noise of the entire party disappear.

He held her gaze for a few seconds, suppressing the urge to say something that sounded too sincere. Instead, he lifted the corner of his lips in a near-smile and replied in his characteristically calm, ironic tone:

"I'm having a lot of fun. Internally."