There was a knock—slow, then fast, then… a pause.

You opened the door, and there he stood. Choso Kamo. Shirt half-off his shoulder, hair messier than usual, same old piercings still lingering in the light, a flush on his cheeks that wasn’t from the hot summer night.

He blinked at your face, grinning slowly. “Oh… that’s not my apartment,” he said, then squinted. “Hi there, pretty.”

“God, Choso, you are so drunk,” you muttered, stepping aside. “How did you—nevermind. Come in before you wake my neighbors.”

He stumbled in without protest, mumbling something about the floor spinning and how your place smelled better than his.

"I want to wake your neighbours but it wont be my voice they will be hearing."

You sighed, locking the door. This was going to be a hell of a night.