soon they’d pull into seongil’s driveway, the lights in jiwon’s office are switched on . » i’m not sure but weren’t you more chubby in high school ? you lost some weight ─ wouldn’t say you’re fat anymore . as for the rest, it might be debatable . « impassive is one of the ways to describe seongil’s voice, his mind certainly elsewhere but why ? it’s not like jiwon would outright tell dooyoung : hey, did you know we’re killing people for a living ?! and we’re not even questioning it, yay ! because this really would be ridiculous . so the boys enter without any fair warning and of course jiwon wouldn’t be in his office anymore ─ he prefers to keep the lights on in a couple rooms when he’s alone . but at one special desk he sits, where his cousin’s able watch tv and the villa’s entrance comfortably in the exact same second .
» who’s this ? « jiwon doesn’t even move his head, nose, eyebrow ─ any sign of emotion .
» a friend from old days . «
» hmm, what’s your name ? « jiwon points at dooyoung with a half-eaten carrot . rather than popcorn, the man would choose to eat a bag of healthy snacks .
whether he actively heard dooyoung’s introduction or not, jiwon doesn’t display any pulled features to give them their answer, nor does he obviously feel obligated to return such formality . probably has to do with the whole idea of dooyoung invading his own home . if he wanted to know, it’s on seongil to share names and other news . the youngest however feels relieved he can skip the part for later .
» there’s still sweet chicken in the fridge, if you guys want to . « and this is taken a reason to leave for the older . finally finished with paper work, he yawns, strolling past them . » gil, i won’t be here in the morning . maybe you could make us some lunch . «
a few steps taken and jiwon pauses . not turning on his heels but he obviously contemplates . thoughts rattle loudly, still seongil feels as if he’s alone in hearing them . teeth bury further into sensitive lips, whilst fingers curl around the fabric of his sleeves .
» do me a favour and keep an eye on your phone, little cousin . « expectably, an order drowsily rolls off the other’s tongue, before jiwon leaves them alone in closing .
teeth unclench, escaping seongil’s notice while they do . he did not pay attention to their miserable position in his irritating tension .
» we should go upstairs . follow my lead . the room also has a mini fridge, it’s the only one to have plenty of water in store . «
“i wasn’t chubby... i think i was just... more.. m’thicker. i lost weight in college. it’s funny y’mention it.”
upon arriving, dooyoung can’t remember the last ten minutes of the ride home. it’s all blur thanks to his mind occupied in an endless battle with his own thoughts. he thankfully snaps out of it, and right now, he’s secretly hoping that those few moments of silence doesn’t burden how they’ll approach each other later. dooyoung’s a guest in his home after all—the last thing he wants is for seongil and himself to have nothing but an awkward tension in between them. blinks once, blinks twice, and suddenly a light turns on in one of the upstairs rooms. he’s too drunk to realize the fact that seongil doesn’t live alone after all. somehow, in his mind, there’s a conscious switch that flickers on. don’t act like a fool as a fucking guest, dooyoung.
in the midst of the jiwon’s abrupt introduction, the drunk remains silent the entire time as a pretending act to seem shy. as a matter of fact, he’s downed way too much alcohol tonight and he doesn’t want give the stranger that appalling impression. he bows once upon noticing jiwon to the split second the pair are alone again. seongil knows he’s saving him the embarrassment (but in reality, he’s preventing a disaster by speaking for dooyoung—just in case). thankfully the water bottle saved his damn life for now he’s feeling closer to sobriety each passing minute.
“oh my god... did i look like a fool? i feel like a fool—” dooyoung impulsively whispers in seongil’s direction after jiwon is long gone. he knows damn well he didn’t peep a single word (minus his name and a brief greeting). he remained polite, but due to jiwon’s intimidating behavior, he couldn’t help but ask the other. is this how people feel when they talk to me? jesus christ.
upstairs? great. as if this venture up to where they need to be couldn’t get any more complicated. to be secure while taking each step, dooyoung lightly grips onto the fabric of seongil’s top, eyes glued to his feet the entire time. it feels like a matter of years before they finally reach to the guest room, and upon opening the door, eye widen immediately. of course, the entirety of the house is the epitome of modern art, but dooyoung couldn’t believe what he was seeing before him. he’s going to sleep in here? he’s too out of it to take it all in right now. in the mean time, all he can mutter under his breath is, “seongil... this... is so pretty. what the fuck.”
has dooyoung mentioned his potty mouth intensifies under the influence? seongil probably remembers. some things never change.
the drunk immediately marks his territory by sitting on the surface of the bed firstly, then seconds later, he slowly drops his entire body without second thought. now laying down completely with legs and feed dangling off the edge, dooyoung can only release a prolonged sigh. “seongil...” he admits, speech not so slurred anymore, “did you... hear me when i thanked you earlier?” god, he sounds like a broken record at this point, but he truly feels like an idiot still. it’s nearly 2 am, seongil just brought in a random stranger (well, to jiwon) inside his home at this ungodly hour—quite frankly, this night could’ve gone worse. way worse than how it progressed. instead of thinking about the negatives, dooyoung shakes his head, drowning his face in the sea of white covers. a muffled yet groggy voice begins to speak once more.
“i hope you’re not mad. or tired. fuck, i really fucked up. i’m really sorry i called you so late.”
“you know, you could’ve declined my call. i could’ve gotten a motel room somewhere, or you know, just fuckin’ walked. i’m an big boy, i swear.” not overthinking about the negatives? success... not. the drunk avoids eye contact this entire time he’s confessing his guilt. “you could’ve been sleeping right now or doing something productive.”
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