You Two Don’t Remember?

The living room was still and quiet, save for the occasional groans coming from the two figures sprawled out on the sofas. Haru, too exhausted—or too drunk—to make it to his room last night, had collapsed on one couch, face buried in the cushions. Kei lay on the other, his limbs splayed out in an awkward tangle, one foot barely hanging on to the edge of the sofa.

Aoi had been awake for a while, enjoying the peace of the morning. He wasn't nearly as hungover as his younger brother and his friend—he had stopped drinking early, knowing full well how the night might end for the other two.

Leaning against the kitchen counter with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, Aoi observed the scene before him. The faint sunlight streaming through the curtains illuminated the chaos on the couches: Haru snoring softly, Kei muttering incoherent words under his breath.

A quiet chuckle escaped Aoi as Haru shifted, letting out a muffled groan. "Oh man, this is priceless," Aoi said to himself, sipping his coffee.

Kei was the first to stir, grimacing as he opened his eyes and squinted at the ceiling. "Ugh… my head…" he muttered, pressing his palms to his temples.

Haru followed soon after, groaning into the sofa cushions before finally lifting his head slightly. "What… what time is it?" His voice was hoarse, his movements sluggish.

"Too early for you two," Aoi replied cheerfully, walking over to sit in the armchair across from them. He took another sip of his coffee, smirking.

Haru sat up slowly, wincing as the light hit his eyes. "Why does it feel like I got hit by a truck?"

"You look like it, too," Aoi said, grinning.

Kei groaned as he tried to sit up, his hand clutching his head. "What even happened last night?"

That was all it took for Aoi to burst into laughter. He set his coffee down on the table, unable to contain himself. "You two don't remember? Oh, this is fantastic."

Haru squinted at his brother. "What are you laughing about? Did we… do something stupid?"

Aoi shook his head, his grin widening. "Oh, no, not at all. You were both completely composed and dignified the whole night."

Kei frowned, his suspicion growing. "That's a lie."

"Is it?" Aoi asked innocently, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "I mean, I can't really say. You two were so… eloquent."

Kei groaned again, leaning back against the sofa. "You're the worst. Just tell us what we did."

Aoi chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Let's just say it was… entertaining. But don't worry, nothing too crazy."

Haru buried his face in his hands. "Great. That doesn't sound ominous at all."

As they both groaned and tried to piece the night together, Aoi casually reached for his phone, glancing at the video he'd taken at the bar. The argument between Sexy Sakura and Sexy Mia, the drunken chanting, and the absurd back-and-forth between Haru and Kei had been comedy gold. He had recorded the whole thing without their knowledge, knowing it was too good to miss.

Aoi smirked to himself but didn't mention the video.

Kei turned to Haru, his voice hoarse but firm. "Okay, whatever happened, we still have to get ready for college."

Aoi raised an eyebrow and gestured toward them. "You're joking, right? You two can barely sit up, and you reek of alcohol."

Haru frowned. "We don't—"

"Oh, you do," Aoi interrupted. "Trust me, I'm doing you a favour by telling you to stay home. Besides, it's Friday. You've got the whole weekend to recover."

Kei groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fine. But if we miss anything important, it'll be your fault."

"Sure, blame me," Aoi said with a grin. "But seriously, just rest. You'll thank me later."

Haru slumped back against the sofa, his head pounding too much to argue. Kei muttered something under his breath before flopping back down as well.

Aoi stood, picking up his coffee and heading toward the kitchen. He couldn't wipe the smirk off his face, his phone still in his hand. "Man," he muttered to himself, glancing once more at the recording, "this is going in my favourites."

He stashed his phone in his pocket and chuckled to himself, leaving the two hungover men to their misery—and none the wiser about the evidence he held.