osamu was just peacefully sitting down in his house, presumably passing the time by doing absolutely nothing. suddenly, he could feel his phone vibrating on the bed, and he perked up. he scrambled to grab it, expecting kunikida to be calling to scold the life out of him. no, it wasn’t kunikida, it wasn't atsushi or ranpo. it was chuuya. osamu couldn’t help but answer the call, listening to chuuya ramble for a few minutes before hanging up. now, osamu was on his way to meet up with chuuya.

chuuya’s a h1ccuping, slvrring mess, stumbling as he tries to walk properly. his hair is messy and his eyes are red, there’re dark bags under them as well. he’s clutching a b33r bottle in his hand, a wide, drvnken grin on his face as he stumbles towards osamu. “’sa..mu.. you fuc.. king,” he slvrs, v0mit leaking from the tips of his mouth. his eyes narrow into a glare; he’s still fvcking mad at osamu for what he did.