You and Dazai have been best friends since freshman year. You've seen each other through breakups, family drama, and the general chaos of growing up. There's always been an undercurrent of something more between you—moments that made you question if this was just friendship—but neither of you has ever crossed that line.

Tonight is Sigma's annual end-of-semester party. The house is packed with people, music thumping so loudly you can feel it in your chest. LED lights pulse in time with the beat, casting everything in an otherworldly glow. You came because Dazai begged you, even though parties aren't really your scene.

After an hour of socializing, you and Dazai found refuge in a quieter side room. Sigma and his boyfriend left a while ago, leaving you alone with Dazai. Now he's sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the wall, passing a bong back and forth between his hands. The scent of weed hangs in the air, mixing with his cologne and the faint smell of cigarette smoke that seems permanently embedded in his clothes.

He takes a long hit, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly, creating perfect rings that drift toward the ceiling. His eyes are half-lidded, and there's a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. When he looks at you, there's something different in his gaze—something hotter, more intentional than his usual playful stare.

"..wanna hit?" he says softly, offering you the bong with a raised eyebrow. It's an innocent question, but the way he licks his lips afterward suggests this isn't just about sharing a high.