|5×𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑫|
"C'est la vie" (French) - "That's life" or "Such is life." It's often used to express resignation or acceptance in the face of life's ups and downs, similar to sayings like "That's how the cookie crumbles" in English.
previously...
POV: Your friends are the best when they're drunk. lol ;)
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Hiro slouched on the stool, his head bobbing dangerously close to the table as the dim glow of the sake shop's lanterns flickered above. His best friend, Riku, sat beside him, sipping his drink calmly, though his eyes kept drifting over to the increasingly inebriated mess that was Hiro. Coming back late from work that night, Riku hadn't expected a call from their usual drinking spot—the kind old lady on the other end, politely asking him to come pick up his overly-inebriated friend.
The said friend groaned, flopping his head onto the table with a dramatic thud. "Rikuuuu, 'M sleepy. 'M gonna sleep right here."
"No, you're not," Riku replied, watching as Hiro surrendered completely to gravity, slumped over the table. He briefly considered leaving him there to stew in his own drunken mess but sighed, knowing better. "Alright, come on, let's get you home."
The shop owner, who had been observing them with an amused glint in her eyes, wandered over, grinning. "He's done for the night, isn't he?" she chuckled.
"Completely," Riku said, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his tone. "Sorry for the trouble."
"No trouble at all. Happens all the time." She handed him a cold cloth, her grin widening. "Here, you'll need this. Good luck getting him out of here in one piece."
"Thanks," Riku muttered, pressing the cloth to Hiro's flushed forehead. Hiro moaned dramatically, his body sinking even further into the table.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it, drama queen," Riku sighed, hoisting his friend up and throwing one of Hiro's arms around his shoulders. Hiro's weight sagged against him immediately, forcing Riku to adjust his grip as they began the slow, awkward shuffle toward the door.
"Man, you're heavier when you're dead weight." Riku grunted. The cool night air ruffled his unruly hair.
"Not my problem," Hiro slurred, eyes half-closed as his head lolled against Riku's shoulder. "I just... need... bed."
After what felt like a never-ending struggle, they finally reached Hiro's apartment. Riku fumbled with the keys, practically dragging Hiro through the door before dumping him onto the couch with an exhausted huff. Hiro collapsed face-first into the cushions, groaning like a man defeated by life itself.
"There, you're home," Riku said, standing over him with his hands on his hips. "Now sleep."
Hiro's muffled voice came from the couch. "Wanna shower."
Riku blinked. "What?"
Hiro flopped onto his back, eyes glassy and defiant. "I need... a shower before bed."
"No way, dude. You can barely walk. Just sleep it off," Riku said, already exasperated.
"I'm not sleeping in these clothes," Hiro grumbled, and before Riku could process what was happening, Hiro had grabbed the hem of his shirt and, in one smooth motion, yanked it off over his head.
"Whoa, WHOA!" Riku yelled, quickly turning around, his face instantly heating up. "What are you doing?!"
"Shower," Hiro said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, casually tossing his shirt aside as he sat up, his chest bare. Riku could feel his heart rate spike.
"Bro, keep your clothes on," Riku muttered, trying to avoid looking in Hiro's direction, but the damage was already done. He had caught a glimpse, and okay, maybe Riku had known Hiro was in decent shape, but seeing him up close, bare skin glistening with sweat and the faint light highlighting his toned muscles? Yeah, that was a completely different story.
"I can't shower with my clothes on, genius," Hiro said, already fumbling with the button of his pants.
Riku panicked. "Okay, NOPE!" He lunged toward Hiro, hands out, trying to stop him before he fully committed to stripping in the middle of the living room. "You don't need a shower right now!"
But Hiro wasn't listening, and somehow, being drunk made him both more stubborn and much harder to handle.
"I'm hot," Hiro mumbled, the beginnings of a pout forming on his lips. He looked more like a kid who'd been denied his favourite candy than a fully grown, very responsible, adult.
"You are—" Riku started, then cursed internally. "Well, technically—but that's not the point!" He grabbed Hiro's hands, trying to pull them away from the belt. But Hiro was all floppy limbs and slurred determination, each motion unpredictable.
Every time Hiro tugged his pants down, Riku frantically yanked them back up. It was a ridiculous tug-of-war: Hiro trying to undress while Riku scrambled to preserve his modesty. The pants now hung precariously on Hiro's hips, one more pull away from disaster.
"Stop moving!" Riku barked, his face burning as he wrestled with Hiro's pants, his hands slipping awkwardly. Hiro, of course, didn't stop.
"I'm so hot," Hiro whined again, his drunken insistence somehow both infuriating and weirdly cute.
There was a sudden shift in momentum, and before Riku knew what was happening, they both tumbled into a heap. Riku landed half-on, half-off Hiro, his face just inches away from his friend's bare torso. He froze.
The room went silent, except for their labored breathing. Hiro was lying beneath him, shirtless, with a lazy, content expression on his face, completely unaware of how awkward the situation had just become. Meanwhile, Riku's eyes had wandered—against his better judgment—down to Hiro's toned abs. His fingers, still gripping Hiro's arm, were dangerously close to his chest.
When did Hiro get so ripped? Riku's brain short-circuited for a moment, his gaze lingering far too long. The warmth of Hiro's skin under his hand, the smooth rise and fall of his breathing—it was all too much, too close.
"My eyes are up here, Riku." Hiro's voice, low and teasing, broke through the haze.
Riku jerked his gaze upward, meeting Hiro's half-lidded eyes and the smuggest grin he had ever seen. His stomach did a weird flip, and for a second, all he could do was stare in horror at the situation he'd found himself in.
"I—I wasn't—" Riku stammered, trying to pull away, but his hands slipped awkwardly against Hiro's chest, which only made things worse. "I wasn't looking!"
"Oh, sure, of course not," Hiro replied, his voice thick with amusement. "You were just... appreciating the craftsmanship."
Riku flushed harder, if that was even possible. "Shut up! You're drunk!"
"And you're blushing," Hiro teased, his grin widening.
"I'm not—" Riku started, but even he could feel the heat radiating from his face. He scrambled to get up, nearly tripping over Hiro's discarded shirt in the process. "Just... just get in the shower already!"
Hiro laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, but I expect help with my pants if I can't get them off," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Riku choked, his face now permanently red. "You are so dead in the morning."
Hiro smirked lazily as Riku stomped off toward the bathroom door gesturing him in with an ugly frown.
"Promises, promises, Riku."
Riku pushed Hiro in and slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it, his heart pounding in his chest. Why is he like this?! His mind was racing, the image of Hiro's stupidly well crafted body burned into his brain. From behind the door, he could hear him humming some ridiculous tune to himself, completely unfazed.
Riku sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm never letting him drink again."
