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‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮

For over half an hour, the dorm room had been swallowed by lighthearted chaos.

The dim lighting still danced lazily across the walls-warm glows from corner lamps and the flickering neon blue from the karaoke screen added a soft haze to the evening.

Empty bottles were scattered across the floor, half-eaten snacks and crumpled napkins cluttered the coffee table.

It was loud. It was messy.

But it was the kind of mess that meant something good had taken place.

Tengen, drunk off ego and soju, was belting out an off-key rendition of a 90's pop ballad, holding the mic like it was a trophy.

Rengoku had joined in, just as tone-deaf but twice as enthusiastic, throwing a dramatic arm around Tengen's shoulder as he harmonized with sheer confidence.

Sanemi, red-faced and defeated, was chugging a bottle of soju as punishment for losing a heated hand-wrestling match to Tengen twice.

Obanai sat in the corner, his phone raised as he recorded the entire scene, clearly amused.

Mitsuri was beside him, laughing so hard she nearly choked on a piece of takoyaki, her cheeks glowing pink as she poked at the food tray between giggles.

Giyuu and Shinobu had both been pulled into the frenzy.

Giyuu, ever the reluctant participant, had squared off in a hand-wrestle against Tengen and, as expected, lost, though not without putting up a decent fight.

Shinobu, with her hair loose and her cheeks already pink from drinking, had been flitting between snapping selfies with Mitsuri and teasing the boys mid-song.

Her Instagram was now flooded with blurry shots of glowing skin, messy hair, and moments frozen in laughter.

But amid the chaos, the echoing laughter and blaring karaoke, something shifted.

Giyuu found his gaze settling again slowly, unintentionally on her.

Shinobu was sitting near the edge of the couch now, her body angled toward Mitsuri, drink lazily gripped in one hand.

Her laughter rang out clear, unrestrained, bubbling from her throat with ease.

A few strands of her hair had fallen over her face, framing the curve of her cheek and brushing against her temple where soft beads of sweat caught the light.

The TV's glow painted her skin in pale blues and purples, giving her an almost ethereal sheen.

She wasn't the girl he remembered from prep school anymore.

She wasn't just the sharp-tongued rival who always had a comeback, always tried to outscore him.

She was different now.

Or maybe she had always been like this.

She was radiant and fierce in her own quiet way and he was just now really seeing it.

He was tipsy, that much he knew.

The liquor sat in his blood, warming his chest and fogging the edge of his thoughts.

But even in that haze, something about her brought him back made him feel startlingly, painfully clear-headed.

Her smile wasn't just pretty. It was devastating.

Genuine in a way that didn't come often.

Her laugh?

It wasn't just noise. It was like hearing a secret unfold, like something sacred slipping through her lips without her realizing.