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Let it be known that Sanemi doesn’t enjoy parties.
He’s pretty vocal about it, actually. Even when he had small birthday parties for his younger siblings, he wasn’t really a fan of sticking around, but he did it for their sake, because he loved them.
Sanemi does not love Tengen Uzui.
Tengen Uzui is a loud-ass man, and he makes Sanemi’s head hurt. But he’s also a really close friend, and being close friends with Tengen Uzui means you’re dragged to every god-damn houseparty the man throws.
He’s got a charismatic enough personality that is draws people in like vultures, making friends with all different types of crowds, intermingling into one blob of body heat and headaches. The rich kids who try to be cool, the nerds who want to fit in, and the loners who sit and stand in a corner and pretend they don’t exist.
Which is exactly what Tomioka seems to be doing at this very moment.
The man is, in all senses and definitions of the word, a lone wolf. Not quite a Batman, “I work alone,” type of deal, but, well, he does refuse to come to study sessions and Sanemi doesn’t think he’s seen him interact with anyone except for Shinobu. It’s kind of sad, honestly, but Kochou, the conniving purple-haired meddling demon always seems to hang off of his shoulder enough that he scrapes by with a few friends to keep him occupied throughout the day.
How does he know this? Well, he’s been—unfortunately—roped into their little clique of mismatched, hair-dyed rainbow of a friend group. Tengen was the first one to invite them to this little (read: positively ginormously full) party consisting of, like, half the school. It’s fine, though, Sanemi could adopt Tomioka’s strategy and become akin to a wallflower and wallow his sorrows away in underage drinking.
“You look miserable.”
Sanemi flinches out of his skin as a choppy-haired, mask-clad man approaches his side. The albino man has to crane most of his neck down to look at his friend, but he’s a little more interested with the way his emotional support python curls around his shoulders and peers his deep red eyes right into Sanemi’s face, almost like he knows something.
Like he knew he was watching Tomioka in the corner of the room.
(It’s not creepy, he swears.)
“Jesus, dude. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Scaredy-cat,” Iguro sneers. “I know you’re not exactly the social butterfly type, but you would fare better mingling with the crowd than sulking in a corner. Like Tomioka.”
Iguro’s eyes follow Sanemi’s to where he appears alone, staring down at the probably monstrous concoction Tengen whipped up for him in his red solo cup. His bangs fall over his face like he hasn’t washed them in days but man, do they look fluffy. And he kind of wants to run his fingers through it—
What? What the fuck?
“Right, okay, like you’re much more of a people-pleaser.” Sanemi rolls his eyes and takes a swig, grimacing at the terrifically poisonous flavor. The fuck did Uzui put in this?
“The fuck did Uzui put in this…?” Sanemi mutters.
“Probably moonshine.”
“Where the hell did he get that?” Sanemi gawks, eyebrows flying to his forehead.
“It’s Uzui, Shinazugawa. He probably pulled it out of his ass.”
And isn’t that a funny thought.
Speaking of the devil, Sanemi thinks idly, as the white-haired man comes bumbling over with three girls hanging off his arms. Iguro scoffs beside him and yeah, he gets it. But Kanroji and Rengoku are following behind him in light conversation and it makes Sanemi bunch up his shoulders and regret ever agreeing to come to this party.
Why does he still do this, anyway?
“Hello, boys!” Tengen exclaims far too cheerfully, alcohol definitely running through his veins.
“Greetings.” Iguro says sarcastically, narrowing his eyes.
“Whatever dumb idea is about to slip from your mouth, save it.” Sanemi says boredly. Tengen feigns hurt, placing his hand over his heart in such an exaggerated manner it pisses him off.
“So rude!” He pouts, and then proceeds to ignore his words by saying: “Come on, we’re gonna play a game.”
“Uh, who is ‘we’?” Iguro raises an eyebrow.
“The five of us,” he points back to Kanroji and Rengoku, both of whom are still deep in conversation. “Plus Tomioka and Kochou, if you’re up for it.”
Sanemi is decidedly not up for it.
(He still goes anyway.)
The seven of them find themselves situated in a circle cross-legged on the floor, the carpet digging into his tailbone as he shifts to get comfortable. Iguro plops himself down next to Sanemi, Kaburamaru fixing him with a curious gaze before he slithers off Obanai’s neck and settles in his lap.
Kanroji sits down right beside him, Shinobu to her left, Giyuu next to her, then Rengoku to his left and finally, Tengen beside him. Sanemi does his best to subtly shift away from the hulking man, despite their close proximity.
“Everyone good?” Tengen asks, sparing a glance over the group.
“Peachy.” Sanemi gives a fake smile. Giyuu shrugs at the same time Shinobu nods her head.
“Great!” He claps his hands together, a booming sound. Sanemi already knows he’s going to have a headache by the end of the night. “Here’s what we’re playing.”
He pulls out an eight-pack of beer from God-knows-where, and passes them one each. It’s a decent brand with an okay-flavor, drinkable, but not preferable. Sanemi studies the label for a few seconds before Tengen cracks open one and straight up chugs the whole thing.
Seriously, what the fuck?
“Ah,” he says, clicking his throat as he finishes downing the glass. He then sits in the middle of the circle, and Sanemi’s heart drops as he realizes exactly what they’re playing.
“Ugh, God.” Obanai groans from beside him, seemingly coming to the same conclusion.
“No Gods here, just some alcohol and great company!” Uzui winks at Iguro, the other man rolling his eyes. “I’m sure this looks familiar, doesn’t it?”
Kanroji nods her head enthusiastically.
“Great! The rules are simple; think of it like regular Spin the Bottle, but there’s an added option: You spin the bottle, whoever it lands on, you have the option of either kissing them or drinking.” He nods down at the capped beer bottle in his hand. “Sound good?”
“Awesome!” Mitsuri beams. “Ooh, this’ll be so fun!”
“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the right adjective I’d use,” Shinobu says, bringing a hand up to her chin, but she doesn’t know any disinterest.
Hell, even Tomioka looks on-board. Which is weird.
It starts off easy. Tengen goes first, claiming he’s “taking one for the team” and spins the glass bottle with a flick of his wrist. It lands on Kyoujurou, who beams at him, and accepts the long-lasting kiss on his cheek. Rengoku then offers to go next, landing on Shinobu, who blushes and fans her eyelashes as Kyoujurou gently cradles her chin and offers her up a lengthy, but chaste kiss to her lips.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Giyuu tuck his knees to his chest.
“My turn,” Shinobu says, clearing her throat and putting on that classic fake smile. She spins the bottle, and it lands on Giyuu who perks up in interest.
She then proceeds to grab her now-opened bottle and take a swig.
“No offense, Tomioka,” she says half-heartedly. He waves her off with a shrug of his shoulders and mutters out, “none taken.”
Iguro snorts, rolling his shoulder.
The game goes on for another fifteen minutes, as follows: Giyuu kisses Kyoujurou on the cheek, Kyoujurou gets to peck Mitsuri on the forehead, Mitsuri gets to peck Iguro on the forehead, Iguro drinks when he lands on Tengen (“hey! I’ll have you know—I’m a great kisser!”), Tengen drinks when he lands on Giyuu, Giyuu drinks when he lands on Shinobu, Shinobu drinks when she lands on Sanemi, Sanemi offers a gentle peck to Rengoku, and things go on.
Eventually, it lands back to Tomioka. Kanroji’s just pulling back from a chaste kiss on his lips and a big smile when he clears his throat and looks down at the glass.
“Your turn,” she urges politely, tucking her knees under herself.”
Giyuu’s hand tentatively reaches for the bottle, pleasantly inebriated enough that he wobbles slightly while reaching for it. He thinks that Iguro sneers from beside him, clearly mocking before Kochou shoves a pointed elbow into his side that makes him grimace.
“Steady, Tomioka,” Uzui chides gently, leaning back against the wall.
“I got it,” Giyuu says, and flicks his wrist.
The bottle spins with more force than necessary and makes a clatter against the hardwood floor. Everyone watches with bated breath for the glass to cease its rotation, and even Giyuu himself looks rather concerned with anticipation.
The bottle slows, spinning once, twice more before the momentum finally begins to die down and it faces closer and closer to Sanemi’s position. Uzui sucks in a breath, a mocking grin ready to plaster itself onto his face as the neck of the bottle points in Sanemi’s direction.
Giyuu looks at him rather wearily, raising an eyebrow. Uzui chuckles, Iguro grins underneath his mask and even Kochou looks a bit surprised, her eyebrows shooting up to meet her hairline for a fraction of a second.
“Oh, this’ll be good.” Uzui says. Rengoku takes a swig of his beer and leans against Kochou’s side.
“Drink or kiss, Tomioka.” Iguro squints his eyes, “one or the other.”
“I know.” Giyuu repeats. He looks down at the bottle, then at Sanemi, then down at the bottle again and then back up at Sanemi. Iguro, next to him, rolls his eyes and looks like he’s about ready to leave when Giyuu finally makes up his mind.
“Holy shit,” Uzui grins widely, watching as Giyuu stands up and crosses the circular threshold over the group.
“Wait, what—” Sanemi blinks, watching as Giyuu stalks over and promptly drops himself into Sanemi’s lap.
And he freezes.
Giyuu’s hands—freezing as all hell, probably because Tengen doesn’t know what a fucking air conditioner is—come to cup both sides of his face, and before he knows it, his lips are being slotted against Giyuu’s own.
It’s a strange feeling. His lips are soft, but also chapped at the same time like he picked at them earlier and there’s clearly the clumsiness of a kiss that comes with inebriation.
“Oh, my God.” Rengoku says, aghast, at the same time Kanroji squeals, “Oh, my gosh!”
Sanemi struggles with his hand placement for a few moments before settling them on Giyuu’s hips, keeping him propped up where he brackets Sanemi’s thighs. Giyuu’s lips are warm, and his body is a strange presence above him, but he leans into it.
There’s some clapping, he thinks he registers, and the shouting of someone else—probably Uzui. But he can’t process much with Giyuu’s hand coming to clutch at his hair and pull his head back.
“Fucking—” Sanemi grits out for half a second before Giyuu drives back in, slotting their mouths together with fervor. His tongue slips between Sanemi’s teeth, causing a low moan to slip from the albino man’s mouth that even he’s surprised by.
“Oh my goodness, I feel like a voyeur.” Kanroji chirps and hides her face in her hands.
Sanemi stalls, his hands gripping Giyuu’s hips with a little more force than necessary. Whereas Uzui and Rengoku exchanging kisses was a simple but long-lasting one, and Kochou and Kanroji’s had been gentle pecks on the lips, this was— this was different. Maybe it’s the alcohol muddling with his brain, but Giyuu leans into him closely like he’s actually chasing Sanemi’s touch.
It’s Kochou’s loud coughing that slams him back into reality, and has Sanemi pushing Giyuu off of him with a flat palm against his chest.
“Jesus Christ,” He breathes, wiping the saliva that slips from his tongue. Rengoku and Uzui clap in unison, profoundly shocked at Giyuu’s initiation. According to the looks of some of the others in the room, they—including Sanemi himself—were under the impression that Giyuu was going to drink.
“I didn’t know he could do that,” Uzui whispers to Rengoku next to him, who gives a hearty laugh in lieu of a response.
“Gross,” Iguro mutters, turning away.
Kanroji gasps, befuddled. “Don’t be crass, Iguro! I thought it was lovely. I admire Tomioka’s confidence!”
Giyuu himself looks rather dazed as he gives contemplating looks to everyone else in the room before slowly sliding off of Sanemi’s lap. He’s thankful that he has the willpower of the Gods and thankfully did not pop a boner in front of the six most annoying people in the room, Uzui especially would tease him to no end about it.
Tomioka returns to his spot in the missing space on the floor, before nodding his head towards Kochou sitting beside him. “Your turn.” He says dimly, and Sanemi has to do his absolute hardest not to blush.
———
He escapes to the balcony not long after with the excuse that he needs “fresh air.” Iguro, like a pest, follows him out moments later, and Sanemi can hear the scraping of the sliding glass door as he makes his presence wholly known.
“So, you wanna talk about that?” Iguro bites out with a little more bitterness in his voice than usual. Sanemi, logically, knows that Iguro doesn’t really like Tomioka. Hell, Sanemi himself wasn’t above that discernment just a few hours ago.
But he can’t get the way that Giyuu’s lips slotted against his so perfectly out of his head. It plays on repeat like a mantra.
“Not really.” Sanemi sighs, hanging his head. “Look, if you’ve come to be judgemental, you can fuck off.”
“Wooow,” Iguro drawls dramatically, “figures you’d brush me off like that.”
Sanemi doesn’t dictate that with a response.
“You’re quiet. I don’t like it.”
“I can be quiet; I don’t care what you like.”
Sanemi’s not in the mood for chatting right now.
“Right.” Iguro says, drawing his brows together, “I’m surprised you didn’t push Tomioka off you. Never took you for a man-kisser.”
“Man-kisser?” Sanemi spares him a scornful gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you shitting me?” Iguro gapes at him incredulously, “You leaned the hell into that kiss; I saw it—I was sitting right next to you.”
“...Doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.” Sanemi shrugs it off, but he knows deep down that his heart is still thumping erratically with the memory of Giyuu seated on top of him.
“Shinazugawa, it’s fine if you did.” Iguro comes to lean on the banister, resting his elbows on the railing and letting the wind whistle through his hair. “Nobody in there cares.”
Sanemi raises an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
Iguro narrows his gaze, “What? Why would I?”
“I thought you were—...” He cuts off, swallowing.
“What?” Iguro gapes at him from behind the mask. “Oh, my God, Shinazugawa, no.” He puts his foot down, “I don’t care that you like boys, I care that you’re into Tomioka.”
Sanemi snorts, “Well, my bad for the misunderstanding. Why do you care so much anyway?”
“He’s—” Iguro falters, “Well, he’s Tomioka. I didn’t think quiet, cold and brooding was your type.”
“And loud, annoying, arrogant is yours?”
Iguro blushes, “That’s— okay, fuck you. Anyway, just— don’t catch any feelings.”
Sanemi groans, rolling his eyes, “God, Iguro, it was one kiss from a fucking drinking game. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Right. Okay.” Iguro says plainly. “Just don’t start complaining when your hookup goes haywire.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Iguro narrows his eyes, “The hookup or the complaining?”
Sanemi grits his teeth, “Neither! Fuck off, you damn snake.”
Iguro chuckles, and bumps his shoulder with Sanemi’s in gentle companionship. Sanemi spares a look towards the patio door and from through the glass he can see Giyuu sitting on one of the barstools, chatting up a conversation with Kochou.
He watches the way his mouth moves—the same mouth that had been on his rather vigorously not even an hour ago—as he speaks delicately, watches the way his hair fans against his face and his hands clench around a red solo cup. The dull kitchen light is gentle on his face and it makes him look even prettier than he already is.
Iguro gives a loud, drawn out and frankly obnoxious sigh.
“You are insufferable. Both of you.”
“Fuck off, Iguro.” Sanemi says with little bite.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get out of your hair.” He opens the sliding door and gives one last glance to Sanemi. “I know you’re not good with words, but try and use them.”
“Whatever.” He huffs, blowing a lock of hair from his face and rolling his eyes.
Giyuu’s stormy, blue-eyed gaze drifts to meet him from across the room, and Sanemi startles just the tiniest bit. Kochou follows his gaze, giving Sanemi a smile from behind the glass and he has half the mind to straight-up flip her off.
Giyuu blinks, and for a long moment, he just stares. It makes a shiver run down Sanemi’s spine, being pinned down by his intense gaze. And then, before he knows it, Giyuu smiles.
He smiles at Sanemi; it’s soft—a barely-there quirk of his lips—but it’s genuine. And Sanemi finds it in himself to smile back, honest.