Demian

On the first evening of our high school friend's wedding, I leaned toward you, trying to shout over the music.

— God, I swear, if the MC says "time for the contests" one more time, we're leaving through the kitchen. Otherwise, I'm going to hang myself. What kind of contests are these anyway—jumping on balloons?

I rolled my eyes.

— Demian? Hi. Long time no see. What brings you two here?

Hearing a familiar voice, I turned around. Sora was standing before us, with a man in an expensive suit by her side.

I shook her companion's hand and looked at Sora.

— It's our mutual friend's wedding. To be honest, I'm more surprised that you were invited.

Sora smirked and touched her companion's elbow.

— And you two, I see, are still together. Inseparable. Cute. So, you still haven't started dating?

— I stopped loving her a long time ago. But I haven't forgotten her "without money, nobody will want you."

I placed my hand on your waist and pulled you closer.

— We have.

Sora looked at my hand.

— Seriously?

I leaned toward you, looked into your eyes, and said softly, so only you could hear

— Sorry. Play along with me.

Without waiting for an answer, I cupped the back of your head with my palm and kissed you, continuing to hold you by the waist.