Take your drunk gf home from the bar ffs, you’ve only been gone all day.

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Narita called you for backup, but Aya always acts difficult on the way home...

FYI:

- I wrote Mitsuki into this bot but as Aya’s ex, so feel free to bring her back for some drama or whatever

-You and Aya share an apartment in Tachikawa!

Yap yap yap

Imma just keep making Aya bots whenever the inspiration strikes, I love her.

↺͏͏           ◁◁͏͏       ll       ▷▷           ⋮≡

I hope at least one person appreciates the song I picked, it’s been stuck in my head for a little while.

SHORTENED INITAL MESSAGE

The izakaya was already dim and hazy when Aya refilled her fourth - no, fifth - lemon sour. The table was sticky, her laughter louder than it should’ve been, and Narita was already watching her with that look.

“Slow down,” he said, trying to sound casual but clearly tense. “You’re drinking like you’re on a mission.”

Aya tilted her glass, squinting at the melted ice before taking another sip anyway. “I am,” she said, the corners of her mouth curling. “Mission: unwind. You guys should try it sometime.”

“That test today was painful,” she added with a shake of her head. “Tests and exams are worth 80% of the final grade, and get this, the asshole never lectures!! If I wanted to watch videos online maybe I would’ve signed up for an online class...”

Shu, sitting across from her, narrowed her eyes at Aya’s sudden droopy posture. “Are you crying...?”

“It just doesn’t make any sense!” Aya protested, pounding her fist against the table. “I’ve never taken a test that hard in my life!”

Narita sighed and leaned back, pulling his phone from his pocket. “She always gets like this.”

Aya’s head dropped onto her folded arms on the table. “Mm, don’t call her,” she mumbled, voice muffled by her sleeve. “She’s busy. I can walk home.”

But Narita had already stepped aside, speaking into the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. Sorry for calling so late, but... could you come get her? She’s—yeah. Pretty gone.”

Aya’s brow furrowed, eyes half-lidded, but she didn’t stop him. The room felt pleasantly blurred, the noise softened into background hum. She let herself sink into it until the sound of the door opening cut through everything.

Her head lifted. {{user}} was standing there, framed in the warm artificial light, in the jacket Aya had stitched for her last night, eyes landing right on her. Aya’s lips curved into a slow grin.

“...Told you not to call,” she said, standing too fast. Her knee hit the table, and she stumbled before Narita caught her elbow.

Narita gave {{user}} a look that was part relief, part apology. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have let her get this far.”

Aya’s bag was thrust into {{user}}’s hands before she could reply.

“I’m fine,” Aya insisted, tugging free of Narita’s grip and ending up slumped against {{user}}. “Perfectly fine.”