“Wine?” I simply said.

“Keep stirring!” he reminded me, but what he really meant was “Please stop looking at what I’m doing”, and he went right back to running around.

How did he even get wine? Unless his birthday was in January like me, there was no way he’d be 18 right now¹. I guess he did look a little older, so maybe the cashier didn’t bother checking his ID?

The beeping of the stovetop snapped me out of my questioning, and I started draining the pasta. Suddenly, Aoki appeared behind me and grabbed the colander, lightly pushing me away.

“Don’t worry, I’ll plate everything. You can just go and sit at the table!”

Turning away from the countertops, I finally saw why Aoki had been running around for the past five minutes. A white tablecloth was draped over the small round table that occupied the corner of the kitchen. He had placed little cushions on the two otherwise humble chairs. The wine bottle took center stage on the table, accompanied by two wine glasses. I’d almost have believed he had tried to make it feel romantic. I sat down, and soon enough he arrived, holding a perfectly well-dressed plate in each hand.

“Here you go,” he said as he set down one of them in front of me.

“This is a lot.”

He gave me a confused look.

“What, did I make too much spaghetti? Don’t worry, I’ll eat any leftovers!”

“No, I mean – you really didn’t have to go to such lengths for a dinner between friends.”

On top of confusion, he now displayed shock and hurt.

“What?” he exclaimed. “You’re my guest! What kind of a host would I be if I didn’t go all out? This isn’t a simple ‘dinner between friends’, this is my chance to make you feel welcome in my house. You can’t even begin to fathom the high stakes of this dinner—”

“Alright, alright,” I cut him off, realizing I was in way over my head. “But where did you even get a bottle of wine? You’re not 18 yet, are you?”

That question seemed to amuse him, and he laughed.

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, this isn’t just any old wine ; this is a fine Saint-Amour Beaujolais.”

That didn’t make any difference to me.

“I have never had any alcohol before,” I confessed.

Hearing that, he immediately grabbed the bottle and opened it, then started pouring wine in my glass.

“No way,” he mumbled. “Alright, then your tastebuds are going to be baptized with one of my finest bottles.”

So he had not only managed to buy alcohol before being of age, but he had bought multiple bottles of wine, and some supposedly fine ones at that? How much money did this guy have? And why was he buying so much wine to drink on his own?

“I don’t really get the hype,” I tried.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “Try it and you’ll get it instantly.”

I sighed. The small glass of wine stood menacingly before me, and so did significantly taller Aoki, who still hadn’t sat down. I took the glass in my hand…

“That’s not how you hold a wine glass…”

… ignored Aoki, and took my first ever sip of alcohol. The taste was indescribable, although very acidic. It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. Actually, I quite liked it. I had to have been making some weird expressions, because the local oenologist burst out in laughter.

“Now that’s the face of someone who’s enjoying a good wine! You had me scared for a second there, you know?”

He finally sat down at the table. I can only guess he was too tense to do so before he saw my reaction.

“It’s not as bad as I imagined,” I said, trying to downplay it.

“You can’t lie to me, you know? You loved it. I can see it in your eyes.”

Touché.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he chuckled. “If liking wine was a crime, half of the population would be in prison! And I’d get a life sentence!”

We kept up our banter for the entire duration of the meal. Somehow, he even managed to get a few smiles out of me. The bolognese wasn’t half bad, either ; I guess he was, in fact, secretly an amazing cook… when he wasn’t dropping the pan on the floor.

Finishing up our plates, Aoki offered to watch a movie, but I declined. I was feeling pretty tired and wanted to go straight to bed.

“That’s what happens when you drink too much fine wine,” he sighed.

He followed me upstairs, making sure I didn’t fall in the staircase, and we went to our respective rooms to get settled in for the night. About ten minutes later, just when I was finished getting changed, I heard a knock on my door.

“Is everything okay in there?” Aoki asked through it.

I opened the door to see a completely different-looking man standing before me. Gone were his face piercings and overkill mascara ; his hair was tied back into a short, low ponytail, bringing out his natural face. He looked like he had finally escaped the 2000’s and discovered modern fashion.

“Uh, y--yeah,” I stammered.

Why was I suddenly stuttering? And when did this room get hotter?

“Hey, you’re red in the face,” he observed. “I guess you really did have too much to drink. Stay here, I’ll get you some water.”

Of course. I had simply had too much to drink. After all, I could barely tolerate Aoki, and I had only agreed to stay for the night because I pitied him. There was absolutely no reason for me to feel any kind of way about him, except for slight annoyance. And I wished he’d just leave me alone. Didn’t I?

“Here, drink up,” he said when he came back, handing me a glass of water.

Then again, it seemed like he really did care about me, for some reason. I didn’t quite understand why he latched onto me from day one, but it was nice to have someone who cared so much.

I took the glass and drank. It didn’t make me feel any better.

“I think I should just go to sleep,” I slurred.

He followed me to the bed and sat next to me.

“I can’t let you go to bed like this,” he declared.

“Like what?” I asked, confused.

He moved to get behind my back and started softly touching my hair. It felt nice.

“You have such pretty hair. You need to get it into a braid, or you’ll damage it when you sleep.”

I was too tired to argue, and stayed still while he gently braided my hair. I guess the alcohol hadn’t yet reached its full potential, because I could feel my heart rate accelerating and my hands getting clammy. Was that among the effects of alcohol? Admittedly, I didn’t have a clue.

When he was done, he simply got up and walked to the door.

“Remember, if you need anything during the night, I’ll be in the room just to your left, alright? Good night.”

He turned off the light and slowly closed the door. I fell asleep almost immediately, hoping I’d feel normal again the next morning.

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¹ The legal drinking age in France is 18 years old. Most students celebrate their 18^th birthday during or after their senior year in high school, unless they are held back a year. This, of course, has never stopped any high schooler from finding and drinking alcohol.