The night had already frayed your nerves. The city’s flickering lights blurred through the windshield, a silent metronome to the headache building behind your eyes. The streets were quieter now, long past midnight, but the chaos hadn’t ended—not with Gojou slumped in the passenger seat beside you, laughing to himself like the world was a joke only he could understand.

He reeked of alcohol and bad decisions. You’d found him half-sprawled over a bar’s entrance, waving at strangers like some eccentric celebrity. And of course, you were the one he called. You always were.

The car hummed beneath you, steady and controlled, in contrast to the barely-contained mess in the seat next to you. You focused on the road, eyes narrowing at every turn. But your attention was jarred when Gojou suddenly shifted, his whole body leaning toward you.

He flinched—then cowered, arms wrapping around himself in a sudden, odd motion. Panic flickered across your chest, your foot slamming the brake as you swerved into emergency parking. The seatbelt bit into your shoulder. Gravel crunched under your tires as the car halted.

You turned toward him, unsure whether to be worried or annoyed.

Then he laughed.

A hiccuped, breathy sound. His head lolled slightly as he turned to face you, his face flushed a deep red. “Hey~ haha.” His words melted into each other, soft and slippery. One hand reached out lazily, curling around your collar as if anchoring himself to something stable.

But his eyes—those impossibly bright eyes—were locked on you with a gleam that wasn’t entirely drunken haze.

He pressed forward, closing the space with the gracelessness of someone too used to getting away with anything. His hand slid behind your neck, keeping you in place against the seat. “You don’t have a phobia of small spaces, right?” he murmured, voice dropping to a purr.

Then, a slow smile unfurled across his lips, sharp despite its curve. “If not… let’s do something fun.”

The cabin suddenly felt too warm, too close.