I'm lucky to have you

"Well, who the fuck are you?"

A foreign, female voice scowled at Natsuo as he dozed on the couch. Startled by the sudden question, he quickly sat up, rubbing his eyes and struggling to find the right words to answer.

A petite woman stood at the entrance, her arms crossed. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail and her narrow cheeks were framed by messy bangs. She wore a ripped denim jacket and worn-in jeans emblazoned with rock band logos. Her black eyes were smeared with dark eyeliner, giving her a rebellious look that matched her edgy attire.

"Are you one of those desperate flings who want Jiya's money?" the woman asked as she stomped toward the speechless and sleepy figure.

Natsuo shook his head, his cheeks warming as she made such a statement.

"Hmph, guess his standards have really come down," the stranger snorted as she straightened her posture, never taking her eyes off the brunet.

Loud footsteps came from the stairs, where the gym and pool were. Jiro emerged, wearing only his shorts, a sheen of sweat covering his toned upper body.

Natsuo instantly glanced away at the sight of him, his face getting even more rosy. It was the first time he noticed there were small lights on the ceiling that looked like stars, even though he had been living there for almost two weeks.

The man's white hair was messy from his workout, so he ran his fingers through it, trying to tame the wild strands. He was a bit breathless as he tried to catch his breath.

"And what are you doing here?"

Her deep red lips turned into a small smile as she saw the tattooed man.

"Do I need a reason to see my best friend?"

"No, of course not. It's always nice to see you here," Jiro said with a quick smile and nodded toward the other man sitting on the sofa.

"This is Natsuo. He is staying with me. And this is - "

"Did you get a random roommate?! Really?!"

The woman raised her hand as if to playfully smack him, but her friend quickly stepped back and dodged her harmless attack. She shook her head as he laughed and ruffled her hair affectionately.

"He just needed a place to stay. We met in high school."

The black-haired stranger's head curved at his explanation, but Jiro finished clarifying that the woman's name was Ayumi. He added that Natsuo could ignore her entirely because she constantly made fun of everyone and everything.

She rolled her eyes and sighed grumpily. Her nails were coated in red that matched her lips with a few of them starting to peel off. The way she carried herself radiated defiance, making it appear that she was unapologetic for her sharp remarks and dismissive attitude.

"It's Saturday night, so let's get drunk," she said boldly and gave the brunet a pointed glance as if daring him to join in. Her black irises surveyed the reserved blue ones, while Jiro assessed the situation between the two with a hint of amusement.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" the young man questioned as he raised his chin, somewhat emboldened by her silent challenge.

"I'm twenty-two, for your information. Don't tell me you're one of those saints who don't drink," she answered sourly and looked unimpressed at his features.

"If you two want to hang out, why don't we go to the Lagoon?" Jiro suggested, making Natsuo's brows furrow as he tried to figure out what that place was.

She leaned in closer to the shorter man and her lips twisted into a cheeky smirk.

"What do you say, stranger? Can you handle alcohol?" she asked, her eyes shining with a flicker of excitement.

(Later that evening)

Natsuo could feel Ayumi's gaze burning through him as he picked up his glass of beer, taking his first sip with uncertainty as he had never tasted such a beverage before. He did his very best to appear unfazed, regardless of growing anxiety when the two were left alone for a while.

His focus wandered around the club named Lagoon, a bar that was said to be known for its wild atmosphere and the occasional fights that broke out in the middle of the night.

Jiro had informed them that the place was owned by Kamiwara's yakuza, but they would be fine since they were his guests. He had promised that as long as they followed the club's rules and didn't cause any disturbances, they would be safe and no harm would come to them - nor would anyone ask for proof of identification or question their presence there.

The wooden walls were decorated with gold and crimson paintings, such as dragons and samurais. The portraits were illuminated with soft spotlights, displaying expressions from fierce rage to serene contemplation.

Dark tables with short legs were behind ornamental cherry blossom panels, providing just enough separation and a bit more privacy. A faint yellow glow emanated from the paper lamps and smooth samisen melodies floated through the air, adding to the ambiance and drowning out other customers' conversations.

The young man was constantly taking in something new wherever he looked - the cultural environment of the club was captivating and impossible to absorb all at once.

"So, what are you planning to do with Jiya?" Ayumi asked as she kept glaring at him, disapproval clear in her voice. She continued grilling him on whether he was after her best friend's money or if he had some secret motive.

"He had no friends or roommates in the past, so he flat-out lied to me. Tell me what's up with you and why do you live with him."

Natsuo settled by stating that they were just in the same class and that this arrangement was only temporary. He attempted to downplay the situation, saying that Jiro had offered him a place to stay in a moment of kindness and that it was nothing more than that.

In the middle of his statement, his eyes spotted a familiar figure leaning against the bar and talking to a trio of girls.

Jiro was wearing his leather jacket and his hair was carelessly swept back stylishly. He appeared confident and charismatic as he chatted with the ladies, making them giggle as he flashed them an easy smile.

The girl on the left put her hand on Jiro's hip, and the one in front of him spilled her red cocktail on his white shirt. She repeatedly apologized while wiping the stain with a napkin – and the girl on the left did a quick movement with her hand near the yakuza's pocket and retreated further away from him.

Natsuo immediately stood up from his seat and walked toward the group with a racing heart. He could feel Ayumi's attention on him as he snatched the wallet back from the girl and held it up with one hand, startling and surprising them with his swiftness.

"Never do that again," he warned, handing his roommate his belongings and making the girls stutter in shock as they swiftly fled the scene.

Jiro's lips curled into a grin, revealing his dimples as he thanked the younger one with a nod.

"Well, I guess I'm lucky to have you as my roommate, my great protector," he said with a smirk as he took his wallet back and glanced at the red stain on his shirt before laughing.

The sound of his sweet chuckle made Natsuo stare at him for a brief moment before he blushed. He quickly turned away and cleared his throat, feeling his face heat up as he struggled to suppress the strange discomfort in his stomach.

The black-haired woman seated at the back showed a pleased expression as she smiled at the man with blue eyes.

(The next day)

Natsuo awoke to a severe headache after sleeping on an unfamiliar couch. He groaned and slowly sat up, wincing as the pain throbbed through his head.

The hangover-inflicted young man looked around and realized he was in a room he didn't recognize, but he vaguely remembered returning to Ayumi's apartment with her and Jiro as she lived closer to the club.

The overall aesthetic of the room was a throwback to the past of rock and roll, with classic elements like black walls, red curtains, and retro furniture. A vintage guitar and band posters contributed to the room's music-inspired theme.

A click of the door latch was followed by footsteps. The smell of fried chicken filled the room when a white-haired man in a leather jacket arrived with bags of fast food.

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Natsuo answered as he rubbed his temples, his voice strained by the pounding ache in his skull.

Jiro smiled sympathetically as he lowered the bags of food onto the cluttered short-legged dinner table. His hair was a bit out of place, its natural waviness still visible, so he attempted to tame it with a few swipes of his fingers.

"Here is something to eat if you are hungry," he said as his friend slouched behind him with mascara stains around her puffy eyes. The young woman had a disheveled appearance with her hair in a tangled bun and her clothes wrinkled from the night before.

"Oh, sweet angel," she gasped when she saw the stacks of french fries. She reached out to grab a handful of the steaming potatoes, her face lighting up with happiness as she stuffed them into her mouth.

Last night was a bit of a blur for Natsuo. He recalled the taste of liquor and the sound of music, but also the feeling of enjoying himself, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. He had let go of the worries that had been weighing him down and when the alcohol had flowed at its strongest, the tension he was suffering had disappeared.

Natsuo watched the two friends' playful banter with a faint smile on his lips. He was reminded that both of them had made him smile yesterday as well, restoring a twinge of warmth to his heart.