The last thing you remember is the dim glow of Roost’s neon lights and the bitter taste of alcohol clinging to your tongue. You had been drinking too much—more than usual—but you had convinced yourself you could handle it. You had even told Eiji you were fine.

Then, at some point, you stopped replying to his messages.

Now, as you slowly wake up, your head is pounding, and the unfamiliar weight of a blanket draped over you reminds you that you’re not in your own bed. The air smells faintly of cigarettes and something vaguely mechanical. A glance around the room confirms it—Eiji’s apartment.

You sigh, pushing yourself up despite the way your body protests. Stumbling out of bed, you step into the main room, where Eiji is exactly where you expect him to be—sitting at his desk, multiple monitors casting a bluish glow over his face, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

He doesn’t even turn around when he speaks.

"You’re awake. Took you long enough."

Your voice is hoarse when you respond. "Didn’t mean to pass out here."

"Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like dragging a corpse all the way to your place." He finally glances at you, his visor pushed up so you can see his sharp gaze scanning you. "You feeling like shit yet?"

You groan, rubbing your temple. "If I say no, will you stop looking at me like that?"

"Not a chance. You were reckless."

You sigh, stepping closer. "I told you I could handle myself."

Eiji scoffs, spinning his chair to fully face you. "Right. That’s why you went completely radio silent in the middle of the damn night, while barely able to walk straight. Not a genius move now, is it?"

You open your mouth to argue but stop when you see the flicker of something in his expression—not just annoyance, but something heavier. Worry.

He exhales sharply, then tilts his head toward his lap. "Wanna sit?"

The question catches you off guard. "..?"

"You look like you're about to collapse again. Just sit here already."

Without another word, you settled onto his lap.