one’s life as a university student will, at some point, lead them to a senseless party of wonder. whether it be on their own accord or because they’re dragged in by the insistence of their circle of friends, there’s a clear path towards the rowdy yet congenial gathering that usually culminates in hangovers and drunken stupors. back then, eden thought he wasn’t the type to go to parties, always figured he was someone who prefers to listen to music in the comforts of his own earphones or the music studios.
like every student who wants to get along with new friends though, he had been brought along to a party. come to find out, it’s not a bad experience at all—it’s fun, all things considered. the more alcohol he got into his system, the more mind-numbing it becomes. eden had always been a deep thinker, so he appreciates the chances where he could just turn off his brain for once. at least enough to forget a few things, even for a moment, even if he knows he’ll regret not remembering once morning rolls in.
for now, though, he’ll do nothing but enjoy himself. stop thinking about anything and just feel. whether it be the rush of beer burning his throat, the boom of music drumming against his ears, the anticipation and warmth of a body against his—every bit of sensation that can light his skin on fire, to indulge in someone else; anything other than the thoughts that flood his active mind.
as if on cue, he hears a familiar voice calling out for him, noticing a nickname that only one person ever uses ( and he doesn’t mind it at all, because he finds it cute ). eden doesn’t need to turn to know who’s approaching him, even as an arm loops over his own. he tilts his head slightly, catching sight of hansol himself, the corners of his lips quirking upwards once he had confirmed the other’s identity.
“hi, hannie,” eden greets in return, voice gentle amidst the loud bass blasting through the speakers. but hansol is close enough, he’s sure hansol can hear him. “i came with a couple of friends, but they pretty much ditched me. probably because they found their eye candy for the night. can you believe it?” he fakes exasperation when in reality he gets it. it’s the reason why a majority of the people here attend these parties in the first place, other than to get blackout drunk.
noticing his friend stumbling slightly, struggling to keep upright, eden decides to let hansol lean his weight against him, wrapping an arm loosely against hansol’s waist. acting as support. “you seem tipsy already,” he notes with a light laugh. “you said you’ve been looking for me? well, i’m right here.” unable to contain his urge to tease, always the devil of temptation, eden pulls hansol in a little closer. “do you need my services again, or do you want me this time?” he asks in a whisper, right to hansol’s ear.
a second after, eden pulls away, only a little, as if he hadn’t been playing with the lines of taunting. “anyway, i’m alone now. so if you want all my attention, you can have it.”
Hansol can hold a reasonable amount of liquor—he’d been drinking enough since starting college to get a good hold on his limits, but where’s the fun in listening to his body when it tells him it’s at it’s limit and any more would tip him over into the realms of solidly tipsy. A few cups ago he’d been steady on his feet, and his emotions had still been firmly in check, but now he’s giggling at nothing, and wondering when Eden began to radiate heat like a furnace. Liquor adds a sparkle to Hansol’s nights like nothing else, and he’s not strong enough to hold back from indulging, even if the beer is cheap and bitter.
Eden seems to sparkle himself, as if all the liquor that made Hansol buzz inside had shifted to focus like a spotlight on the raven-haired man right in front of him. For a moment he just stares, a small smile on his lips, listening to him talk about his friends ditching him. Hansol came with a couple people, but he can’t even remember who anymore, not that he cares about that when he’s sliding a hand up to Eden’s shoulder to rest there, half against his chest as he’s pulled closer.
The thing about Eden is that he can say and do anything and it’ll be enough for Hansol. He simply has to utter Hansol’s name and he’ll do whatever he wants. He’s as intoxicating as the fruity cocktails Hansol has a penchant for—sneakily, sweetly slipping into every inch of him and leaving him addicted. It’s a recipe for disaster, and he knows that, but he’s a sucker for indulgence, never one to say no to things he knows he’d be better off without.
Hansol leans in closer, lips brushing against Eden’s earlobe as he replies in a soft voice only loud enough for him to hear, “I always want you, you know that.” But then Eden’s pulling away, not far, but enough for Hansol to almost fall forward against him. “You look nice tonight.” He continues once he’s steadied himself. Frankly, he’s not sure what the plan is now that he’s found Eden—he’d been too focused on trying to find him that he’d not even thought about why he wanted to.
“Wanna sit down somewhere? I’ve been dancing for ages and my legs hurt.” A pout finds its way onto his lips without him even thinking. “And I haven’t seen you in ages.” It hadn’t been that long, but any length of time without Eden, to Hansol, felt like an eternity (and when he got sober he’d be well aware of the idiocy he was exhibiting by trying to cling to any second with him that he could).
