crush culture | giyuu tomioka

forty six -

douma👎

You made your way through the thick crowd of people after you told Giyuu you'd get something to drink for the both of you. He wasn't picky with drinks which made it a lot easier for you to decide. As you maneuver through sweaty bodies of people dancing, you finally made it to the vast kitchen where drinks were being served.

The music was muffled. Barely. It was tolerable enough for someone to actually hold a mindless conversation about whatever came out of their intoxicated tongue. You took a moment to survey the place; a handful of empty glass bottles scattered across the kitchen counter, a vast collection of liquor bottles lined haphazardly next to the empty bottles, and disposable, red, plastic cups keeping it company.

How cliché. Somehow, a part of you wished that Sanemi and Uzui didn't already come through here. Quickly shaking the thought away, you approached the counter and found a bowl of punch on the other side of the counter.

Pursing your lips in curiosity, you hum softly before crossing to the other side to approach the bowl. It seemed normal enough, though you didn't know it's contents. However, it seemed like someone else did.

"Oh? and how may I be of assistance to a pretty girl like you?" The sultry voice made you flinch slightly as you shift your gaze to whoever it belonged to. There stood a guy who was taller than you. Platinum blond hair accentuating his pale complexion as he looks at you with a hallow, yet shady grin. His eyes nearly startle you since they resemble a kaleidoscope.

You took a step back after learning he was standing too close to you. The nihilistic smile on his face doesn't falter as he leans back against the counter, the bowl of punch next to him. His presence alone made you uncomfortable and you shift your gaze from him back towards the bowl.

"Uh..what's in the bowl?" You spoke clearly, mentally deciding to just grab drinks and exit quickly before things got weird. The stranger hums lightly, turning his gaze towards the counter.

"Just a concoction of pomegranate juice and Vodka. My favorite." He turns his stare back to you, simplifying his response as his piercing eyes wander from your face and your stare hardens on him. He didn't exactly answer your question in the way that you'd hoped.

"Okay, what else-" He was quick to cut you off.

"Would you like to try some?" He offers, the smug expression not matching his polite mannerisms. Somehow you knew it was faux. As if he was trying to lure you in. You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion with a slight frown.

"Only if you try it, since It's your favorite."

"Ah, you're pretty and hard to please. You intrigue me, but why not? It wouldn't hurt to try it with you." There was a mischievous aura to him, and a hint of something sinister lurking beneath his coy exterior. It was as if he was masking himself, hiding who he truly was, and it put you on edge. Though, you weren't exactly the type of person to cower away so easily. The stranger keeps his eyes on you as he pours some of the bowl's content into cups for the two of you.

Keeping your suspicion as a defensive front, you cautiously take the cup from him as he hands it to you. Eyes fixated on every slight movement from him as you gently swirl the cup, allowing the drink to settle and mix properly.

The stranger simply hums with a soft smile on his face as he takes the first sip, his eyes never leaving you as he props his elbow on the counter. "Your name is [y/n], right?" His voice was a low murmur, as if it was some secret and you watch as he leans forward, applying some of his weight onto his elbow.