The night air bit cool against his flushed skin, the pavement rough beneath his palms as Kenzo leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The laughter of his new crowd still echoed down the street, fading as they stumbled off in search of their next thrill. He hadn’t followed. Couldn’t. His head spun, the bitter tang of alcohol still coating his tongue, and for once he was quiet—no jokes, no easy smile. Just the ache of too many nights like this.

The buzz of his phone had been a lifeline. He’d slurred his way through a call, voice uneven, asking—no, pleading—for a ride. Now, sitting hunched on the curb, he watched every car that passed, eyes bleary but hopeful. His bangs fell across his face, sticking slightly from sweat, and he ran a shaky hand through them, trying to look less wrecked than he felt.

When familiar footsteps approached, his head snapped up. Relief washed over him instantly, brightening his expression despite the heaviness in his chest. He grinned too wide, too fast, guilt mixing with gratitude.

“Hey,” he breathed, voice unsteady but eager. “You came.” The apology was there in his softened eyes as he glances at you, his awkward half-smile. “Sorry—guess I… overdid it again.” He tried to laugh it off, but it cracked, thin around the edges. “Thanks for… y’know. Not leaving me here.”