Yoosung's nervous gaze flitted around the club, the loud music obscenely different from the blaring heroic fanfares in his headphone's speakers as he played LOLOL.

Saeyoung was busy dancing with his girlfriend on the dancefloor, but Yoosung was a completely awkward third wheel, having nothing to do.

He had just turned 21, so Saeyoung had decided to take him to his first club. However, Yoosung was uncomfortable among the throbbing dancers around him.

He carefully slid past them to the bar where he ordered a shot, still nervous about drinking alcohol which led him to evidently flashing his ID three times to the neon bartender.

He unceremoniously sipped at the drink and coughed slightly, the bitter taste swelling down his throat. It was incredibly strong, and it tasted like sweetened smoke, but Yoosung liked the idea of being a man, finally, so he ordered two more and downed them quicker.

He blinked rapidly as the dizziness and bad decisions set in, his tolerance level feebly low. Suddenly, he spotted a figure dancing with the rest of the crowd, slowly swaying with the beat.

His white hair was brilliant in the strobe, wearing a red tank top and black jeans, his hoodie cast aside. Yoosung's drunk heart beat faster at the sight of the stranger.

He slowly made his way to the man, who looked angelic in the flashing stobe. Pushing through the crowded bodies, all as equally drunk as he, he approached the beautiful being, who turned at the feel on Yoosung's hand on his shoulder.

His eyes widened, then he blinked slowly, head pounding with the bass. "Hello..." Yoosung said, his voice dropped an octave.

"Hello," the stranger's voice was sweetly gravely, and made everything turn upsidedown with the smell of red velvet cupcakes that Yoosung suddenly remembered eating this morning at Jaehee's cafe.

The weird sensation left everything just slightly blurry, but the stranger took Yoosung's hands and placed them on his hips, then reached up and unclipped the barretts from his hair, tousling the blonde locks so he looked just a few years older, his violet eyes wide with drunken awe.

And then they danced until Yoosung couldn't see straight, the stranger's waist and cool hands on his neck and through his hair the only thing helping him cling to reality and consciousness.

He feared that if he let go, he would fall so far away that he'd never be able to tell the stranger just how much his teal-y minty eyes made Yoosung's knees weak, how his jawline looked sharp enough to cut, how his cheeks flushed pink when he allowed Yoosung to reach up and whisper drunk nothings in his ear.

Yoosung vaguely heard the stranger, who he found was named Saeran, say that he was going to get them more drinks, and Yoosung tilted his head, but then realized that this would mean letting go of his grip on Saeran's tank top.

He slowly nodded, ghosting his hand up Saeran's arm to his bicep, with felt strong and musculary, then reluctantly let go, eyes drifting to the DJ atop his podium in the front.

"Stay here," Saeran's voice was a car on a gravel driveway, drifting away with the rumble crumble crunch of his words.

And then he slipped away, Yoosung grinning as he waved lazily at 707 and his girl, who were kissing against a pillar on the other side of the club.

Yoosung waited obediently, but soon three songs had passed and his heart was beating thu-thump thu-thump where is saeran thu-thump. Maybe he had lost his way? Yoosung didn't know, but let his body pass through the crowd, mind wondering where oh where.

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, and it swayed to the thu-thump thu-thump of his drunk, drunk heart. Saeran... his stomach turned, and he looked around. Where was he? Yoosung pouted. He didn't leave... did he?

Yoosung suddenly felt tired. Very tired. Maybe he should go find Saeran... He said he'd be back though... Yoosung giggled at his wobbly knees, but then dropped his smile when he realized they couldn't hold him any longer.

Breath coming in quick heaves, he felt his legs buckle, and himself falling. The bass pounded too hard and suddenly Yoosung couldn't remember what he was doing here.

His eyes rolled back up to that laughing ceiling, swaying without him, but then a shape. A Saeran-shape. Minty eyes shone like the sweat on his forehead with worry and Yoosung breathed out, a smile on his lips.

The cold floor felt nice, but when Saeran picked him up in those strong, strong arms, it felt nicer, like the barely-cold cherry coke in the cupholder of his sister's car, or the warm yellow, old lightbulbs around Zen's favorite mirror.

Yoosung coughed, and suddenly his head hurt a little bit too much, and he saw the worry worry worry of 707 and his girlfriend around Saeran, then the gravel of Saeran's voice. "I'll take him to my place. Here's my number."

And then the fading of the bass, the blast of cold air that contrasted the warmth of Saeran. Saeran, who set Yoosung down, and arm around his waist to support him, the light of his phone screen.

"A taxi please. The club on 32." He hung up and brushed the sweaty hair out of Yoosung's eyes, the younger man's cheeks flushed like roses.

A taxi pulled up quickly, and Saeran delivered his address in quite, hushed numbers and letters, the foreign man nodding. Yoosung slumped against Saeran, blowing warm air across his neck. Saeran tried not to laugh, as it tickled more than it should've.

When they arrived, Saeran picked Yoosung up once again, and then into the house, up the stairs, into the bedroom. Yoosung flopped down onto the bed, and Saeran quickly untied his shoes and exchanged his jeans for a pair of sweatpants, before doing the same for Yoosung.

He pulled Yoosung under the covers and held him close, never wanting to let go again. They fell into sleep.

...

Yoosung woke to a pounding headache and a throbbing bladder. He opened his eyes to sunlight filtering through curtains in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar man sleeping next to him.

Yoosung carefully got up, his headache forcing him to use the wall as a support, and made his way to the bathroom. After finishing his business, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror, and winced at the dark bags under his eyes.

He checked his jeans, which were laying on the floor, for his wallet and phone, which were both present, but he nearly chucked his phone at the wall upon seeing the bright screen, clamping his eyes shut from the obtrusive light.

Sighing, he deposited two advils in his mouth. Mid-swallow, it all came rushing back to him. Yoosung stumbled back, hitting the wall, memories of last night flooding his brain. Saeran.

Yoosung carefully crawled towards the sleeping figure, who's breath came slow and even. Reaching out a tentative hand, he gently shook Saeran's shoulder.

"Saeran...?" He whispered, and the man instantly stirred, eyes blinking open. Drunk Yoosung had good taste in men apparently.

"Hm? Who're you?"

Yoosung's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Uhm... We met at the club last night...?" He tried. Saeran's eyes stayed dull.

"Uh huh." Realizing the fact that Saeran, though stunningly attractive, might not have the best personality. Drunk Yoosung was deemed an idiot by Sober, Hungover Yoosung.

"Well, uhm, I had a great night. So thank you. I... I guess I'll be going now." Saeran nodded and closed his eyes again.Yoosung sighed, hurt pumping through his heart.

He quickly shed the sweatpants and pulled on his jeans, then exited the room, dialing Seven's number. Yoosung slipped out the front door to the open street, cars and taxis humming along to the morning traffic.

Brrrrrrr.... Brrrrrr...Brrrrrr.... "Morning Yoosung! How'd it go?" Seven's morning voice was a comfort.

"Yeah, not well. Can you pick me up?" There was a silence on the other end.

Then Seven's voice, "I'm sorry Sungie... Where are you?" Yoosung looked down the block at the street sign.

"It's 43 Eldridge," Yoosung said wearily.

"Okay, do you have everything?"

"Yeah, I checked for my wallet and-" Suddenly, Yoosung heard the door open behind him.

He turned to see Saeran rushing down the stairs, pulling on a shirt.

"Hey, look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean-... Can I make you some breakfast? Or we can go out or- I'll pay. I just feel like I'll regret it if I let you leave- Please stay..." Saeran's words tumbled out of his mouth, his hand reaching out as if to grab Yoosung's hand.

"Yoosung?" Seven's voice over the line broke Yoosung out of his trance.

"Nevermind Seven, I... I think I'm okay." He locked eyes with Saeran, who silently pleaded Yoosung with his eyes,

"Really? Okay... well call me if you need anything. Use protection, bro." Yoosung's cheeks flushed five shades of red and the small smirk on Saeran's face alerted Yoosung that he had heard Seven's words too.

"Seven!" Yoosung scolded, but his best friend just laughed and said goodbye. Yoosung hung up, then walked straight up to Saeran, so close that their chests were pressed together, their eyes locked.

"I'm in the mood for pancakes."