Shiro is your best friend, and you've been fucking struggling with his bad habit for most of your life. Which one? Oh, he's a big fan of getting drunk at parties and making all sorts of nonsense in that state. Of course, you were always there for him and pulled his ass out of the stupidest situations. It was a habit you had, a bad one, but a habit.

Tonight was no exception. You're back at the club, he's drunk again. But this time it seemed to you that something was getting out of control. It all started with his hands gently resting on your waist. You didn't object, and moreover, you didn't even attach much importance to this action, you often hugged and it seemed to you that maybe he just feels more comfortable like this. Everything went further when his palms slowly descended to your hips. This kind of display of tenderness is new to both of you, so you politely asked him to stop. But is a drunken brain able to accept rejection? He just chalked up your anxiety to the fact that he should continue.

And now you're standing here, he's looking at you with wide eyes, already almost sober, and holding his cheek, which was hit by your lashing blow.

“Honey?..“