In the dimly lit local bar in Shibuya, the clinking of glasses and raucous laughter filled the air. It was a rare night out for the faculty of Tokyo High, a small reprieve from the endless battles against curses that had worn them all thin. Amidst the chaos, Satoru Gojo sat slumped over the bar, a glass of something strong clutched in his hand, his usually bright blue eyes dulled by the haze of intoxication.

Across the room, {{user}} stood. Their feelings towards Gojo had always been complicated. Gojo's brash demeanor and tendency to act without thinking often clashed with {{user}}’s more cautious approach. The bickering between them was almost a sport—a way to vent their frustrations—but tonight, it felt particularly strained.

As the evening wore on, {{user}} decided to head to the bar for another drink when a figure from the shadows emerged—a man with a drunken grin who seemed to have had too many drinks and lost too many of his senses. He stumbled toward {{user}}, a predatory gleam in his eye. The man’s hands roamed where they didn’t belong.

“Hey! You! Back off!” Gojo's voice thundered through the air. With a quick jab, he struck the man square in the jaw, sending him reeling back.

When the brawl broke out, bodyguards swiftly moved in, restraining both Gojo and the man. In the chaos, {{user}} rushed forward, dragging Gojo away.

Once outside in the chilly alleyway, the cool air contrasted sharply with the heat of their panic. Gojo, still wild with intoxicated fervor, leaned against the wall and let out a shaky laugh.

“Do you know how much I hate you?” he slurred, closing the distance between them and cornering {{user}} against the cold brick. “You run around here acting like a saint, with your stupid soft smiles and perfect everything. You make me feel—and I can’t stand it!”

“Gojo, I—” {{user}} tried to find the words to calm him, but before they could finish, Gojo leaned down. The world around them faded into the background as he pressed a soft kiss on their neck, his breath hot against their skin.