The evening air was crisp as Haruto walked along the familiar streets, lost in thought about the day's events. He'd been expecting to head home after their usual routine, maybe grab some convenience store dinner and catch up on some reading. But Satsuki had other plans, apparently.
"Haruto," she said suddenly, tugging at his sleeve with that mischievous look in her eyes that always spelled trouble. "Let's go somewhere."
"Somewhere?" Haruto raised an eyebrow, glancing at her sideways. "It's getting late, don't you think we should—"
"Come on," she interrupted, already pulling him in a different direction. "Trust me."
And that's how he found himself standing outside a small, dimly lit bar tucked away in one of the quieter districts. The neon sign flickered lazily overhead, casting pink and blue shadows across Satsuki's face as she grinned up at him. There was something different about her tonight—an energy he couldn't quite place, like she was wound up about something but trying to play it cool.
"Onee-chan, are you sure about this?" Haruto asked, but she was already pushing through the door.
The bar was exactly what you'd expect from a place like this—low lighting, wooden everything, the kind of atmosphere that made you want to speak in hushed tones. A few other customers sat scattered around, nursing their drinks and minding their own business. The bartender, a middle-aged guy with kind eyes, nodded at them as they found seats at the counter.
"Two beers to start," Satsuki said without hesitation, settling onto her stool with the confidence of someone who definitely wasn't old enough to be ordering alcohol. But the bartender didn't seem to care, or maybe he just had better things to worry about.
Haruto watched her with growing bewilderment. "Since when do you drink?"
"Since tonight," she replied with a shrug, accepting the first beer with both hands. "Sometimes you just gotta try new things, right?"
She took a tentative sip, made a face, then took another one. Haruto couldn't help but smile despite his concern. There was something endearing about watching her try to act sophisticated while clearly having no idea what she was doing.
"You don't have to force yourself," he said gently, but she waved him off.
"I'm not forcing anything. Here, drink up." She pushed his beer closer to him. "Can't let me drink alone, can you?"
Haruto took a small sip, more to humor her than anything else. The beer was decent enough, nothing special, but he found himself more interested in watching Satsuki's reactions than actually drinking. She was getting more animated with each sip, her cheeks taking on a rosy flush that made her look even prettier than usual—if that was even possible.
"You know what?" she said after finishing her first beer and immediately ordering another. "I never really understood why people liked this stuff, but it's actually not bad once you get used to it."
"Maybe you should slow down a bit," Haruto suggested, but she was already halfway through beer number two.
"Nah, I'm fine. Besides, it's not like I'm driving or anything." She leaned closer to him, and he caught a whiff of her shampoo mixed with the alcohol on her breath. "You worry too much, you know that?"
The proximity was doing things to his heartrate that he tried very hard to ignore. Satsuki had always been touchy, but there was something different about the way she was looking at him tonight—something that made his mouth go dry and his thoughts scatter.
"Here," she said, pouring some of her beer into his glass. "Drink more. You're being boring."
"I'm not being boring, I'm being responsible," he protested, but he took another sip anyway. The truth was, he was having trouble saying no to her when she was looking at him like that, with those bright eyes and that slightly lopsided smile.
As the night wore on, Satsuki kept drinking. And drinking. And drinking some more. Haruto tried to keep pace at first, but quickly realized that was a losing battle. She seemed determined to make up for every drink she'd never had, and her tolerance was apparently nonexistent.
"You know what your problem is?" she said, swaying slightly on her stool as she pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You think too much. Always thinking, always worrying. Sometimes you just gotta... you just gotta let go, you know?"
Her words were starting to slur together, and Haruto felt a pang of worry. "Satsuki, maybe we should call it a night."
"Night? It's barely getting started!" But even as she said it, her eyelids were growing heavy. She reached for her glass again, misjudged the distance, and nearly knocked it over. Haruto caught it just in time.
"Okay, definitely time to go," he said, standing up and leaving money on the counter. "Come on."
"But I'm not done yet," she protested weakly, but she was already leaning heavily against his shoulder. Her body was warm and soft against his, and he had to concentrate very hard on not thinking about how good she smelled or how her hair felt tickling his neck.
"Yes, you are," he said firmly, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. "Let's get you home."
They made it about halfway to the door before Satsuki's legs gave out entirely. She mumbled something unintelligible and went completely limp, forcing Haruto to catch her before she hit the floor.
"Satsuki?" He shook her gently, but she was out cold. Great.
The bartender looked over with mild concern. "She gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, she'll be fine," Haruto assured him, though he wasn't entirely sure himself. "Just had a bit too much."
He tried to wake her again, calling her name softly and giving her shoulder a gentle shake, but she was completely unconscious. Her breathing was steady and her color looked good, so he didn't think she was in any real danger, but he couldn't exactly leave her here.
With a sigh, he carefully scooped her up in his arms, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She was lighter than he'd expected, fitting against his chest like she belonged there. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he could feel her breath warm against his neck.
"Sorry about this," he murmured to her sleeping form, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for.
The walk home was simultaneously the longest and shortest of his life. Every step made him more aware of her body pressed against his—the soft curve of her waist, the way her skirt had ridden up slightly, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looked so peaceful like this, so vulnerable and trusting, and something protective and fierce rose up in his chest at the sight.
He was so focused on not dropping her and trying to ignore the way his body was reacting to having her so close that he almost didn't notice the figure watching them from above.
Ryouta had been having a perfectly ordinary evening of brooding dramatically on rooftops—as was his custom—when he spotted the unlikely pair below. At first, he'd barely given them a second glance. Just another couple making their way home after a night out. But then he got a better look at the girl in the guy's arms, and his breath caught.
She was stunning. Even from this distance, even unconscious, there was something about her that made him stop and stare. The way her long hair cascaded over the guy's arm, the elegant line of her neck, the soft curve of her lips—she was like something out of a dream.
And the bastard carrying her got to hold her like that.
Ryouta felt an unexpectedly uneasy. So that is this guy? He looked ordinary enough—dark hair, average build, nothing special. But he was walking around with a goddess in his arms like it was no big deal, like he did this every night.
"Lucky son of a bitch," Ryouta muttered, but there was grudging respect in his voice too. It took balls to take a girl like that out drinking. Most guys would be too intimidated to even try.