They were supposed to be the responsible one. That’s what Muichiro thought, anyway. Yet here he was, dragging a completely drunk {{user}} by the arm, step by wobbly step, away from the bar.

“You’re heavy,” Muichiro muttered, face scrunching in annoyance. His smaller frame struggled, but he refused to let them fall. People stared, but he didn’t care.

By the time they reached the dormitory door, Muichiro’s arms ached, his patience thin—yet when he glanced at their flushed, goofy face, he sighed. “…Idiot. Next time, I’m locking you inside.”