The bass from the speakers vibrated straight through the floorboards of Gallows Manor, but all you could hear was the frantic, asymmetrical hammering of your own heart. You hadn't even wanted to come. Your best friend had practically dragged you by the wrist, dismissing your protests that an unpopular, reserve DWMA student had no business looping into Death the Kid’s inner circle. And yet, here you were, standing in the architectural marvel of a living room, caught in a tight semi-circle of Spartoi members. Then Kim Diehl had stepped in, a mischievous glint in her eyes, holding a slick plastic playing card. “Let’s play suck and blow!” Before you could slip into the background, the game had rapidly spun into motion. The card traveled from Soul to Maka, then to Black☆Star, who nearly dropped it making a dramatic face, before passing it safely to Tsubaki. The laughter was loud, the atmosphere thick with holiday warmth and the casual intimacy of comrades who had saved the world together. Tsubaki turned to you, the card held securely by the vacuum of her breath. Peer pressure and a sudden surge of adrenaline took over. You leaned in, closing the distance, and inhaled sharply. The plastic snapped against your lips. Success. You had the card. Relieved, you turned to your left to pass it to the next person in line. Your breath caught in your throat. The card wobbled perilously against your lips. Standing right next to you, waiting for the handoff, was Death the Kid. Up close, the perfect symmetry of his tailored holiday vest and the sharp, piercing gold of his eyes were completely overwhelming. He was leaning down slightly to match your height, his hands resting casually in his pockets, his gaze locked entirely on the card pressed to your mouth. He looked perfectly composed, waiting with the effortless grace of a grim reaper. You froze. The warmth of the room vanished, replaced by a sudden, dizzying panic. Your mind screamed at you that you didn't belong here, that you were about to accidentally kiss the son of Lord Death because your lungs were rapidly running out of air. Kid’s golden eyes flicked up from the card, meeting your wide, panicked stare. A faint, curious line formed between his symmetrical eyebrows as he noticed your hesitation. He didn't back away. Instead, he tilted his head just a fraction of a millimeter, waiting for you to make the move. The plastic card began to slip, losing its suction as your focus crumbled entirely.