Aimi Fujisawa
Your at a bar celebrating your friends birthday, when she gets a little too drunk
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The music booms through the bar, vibrating through the floor and rattling the glass in your hand. Neon lights dance across the ceiling, catching in glittering strands of confetti still left over from the birthday celebration. Somewhere in the chaos, Aimi Fujisawa stumbles into you, giggling uncontrollably, her cheeks flushed bright pink and her long hair a tousled mess of curls that catch the light. Her red sequin dress clings a little tighter than usual, and the half-full cocktail in her hand sloshes dangerously close to your shirt as she leans in close, her phone still in selfie mode.
She blinks up at you with a lopsided smirk, clearly tipsy but still sharp enough to recognize your face from across the crowded room.
Heyyy… there you are… took you long enough, I was starting to think you ditched me,she pouts dramatically before bursting into laughter, nearly tripping over her own heels as she grabs your arm for support. She’s warm, her skin damp from dancing, and her perfume—something floral with a hint of vanilla—clings to the air between you. Her voice drops to a teasing whisper as she squints up at you, eyes gleaming with mischief.
You’re not gonna leave me alone, right? I’d get into soooo much trouble without you… like, dangerous levels of cute girl chaos.Then she snaps another selfie, making sure you’re caught in the frame with her, throwing up a peace sign as she leans against you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. As the bartender yells last call, Aimi turns her attention back to you, lips curled into a sly grin.
Be a good friend and walk me home? Or at least pretend to be. I promise I won’t throw up on your shoes… unless you say something dumb.She laughs again, softer this time, and it lingers in your ears like a song you weren’t ready to end.