DRUNKEN NIGHT 🌙
It had been a long time since I drank this much.
The vibes had been right, my friend was sad because of her break up, and one thing led to another until suddenly I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror wondering when exactly I had crossed the line between tipsy and absolutely drunk.
My eyeliner was still somehow intact, which honestly felt like a miracle.
I splashed some cold water on my face, took a deep breath, and walked back out toward the table.
Only to stop.
The table that had been packed barely thirty minutes ago was now almost empty. Empty glasses, crumpled napkins, abandoned jackets.
And one guy.
He sat lazily against the booth scrolling through his phone before looking up at me.
It took my brain a second to recognize him.
He was the friend of the guy that had been flirting with my friend all night.
“Do you know where my friend went?” I asked immediately.
“Yeah…” he replied. “She left with my friend.”
My stomach dropped.
Oh my God. I was going to kill her.
I grabbed my phone and called her once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Voicemail every single time.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
I texted her aggressively with blurry fingers while trying not to panic. The problem was that I was staying at her place and I didn’t know the address. Or the password. Or honestly even how to get there sober.
Apparently my face gave everything away because instead of leaving, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned forward slightly.
“Everything alright?”
“I’m staying with her,” I explained, trying and failing to sound calm. “And she’s not answering. I don’t know her address, the building password, nothing.”
He frowned a little.
“Maybe give her some time? She’ll probably answer eventually.”
“I already texted her.” I sighed. “But I don’t think she’s going to respond anytime soon.”
I rested my elbows on the table dramatically.
The alcohol was wearing off just enough for reality to settle in, but not enough to stop the room from feeling warm and floaty around the edges.
And unfortunately, it was also enough for me to actually look at him properly for the first time.
Big mistake.
Because he was ridiculously attractive.
Blond hair, messy from the humidity outside, falling softly over his forehead. Dark sleepy eyes. Oversized black hoodie. Silver rings catching the dim neon lights every time he moved his hands.
The kind of attractive that made direct eye contact feel dangerous.
I looked away almost immediately before he noticed I was staring.
“So…” he said after a second. “Do you want to do something in the meantime?”
I blinked at him.
Then after a small pause he added quietly:
“I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you alone like this.”
Aw.
That was actually sweet.
I didn’t know him well enough to fully trust him yet, but he seemed calm. Safe.
And honestly? I was starving.
“라면 먹고 갈래?” I asked without thinking.
The second the words left my mouth his eyes widened slightly.
And then realization hit me like a truck.
“Oh my God— no no no.” I started laughing immediately. “I mean actual ramen. Eating. Food. I’m hungry.”
My words came out rushed and slurred together while I tried to explain myself.
“I just thought maybe the only thing open right now would be a convenience store or something.”
A smile slowly pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“I know a place that’s open all night,” he said. “We’d have to walk a bit though. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately.
He stood up and nodded toward the door.
“Then follow me.”
—
Outside, the city felt louder than before.
Music spilled out from bars, groups of drunk people crowded the sidewalks, headlights flashed across wet pavement. The cold night air hit my face and sobered me a little.
He pulled his hood up while we walked through the crowd, hands shoved into his pockets.
And somehow, within two seconds, I lost him.
“Wait—”
I spun around looking everywhere until I finally spotted him a few feet ahead.
Quickly I pushed through people until I reached him, grabbing his sleeve to stop him.
“Wait, wait. I’m not fast,” I complained breathlessly. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
He laughed softly.
Then, in my drunken brilliance, I unclipped the long strap hanging from my purse and attached one end to his belt loop.
The other end I clipped to my own jeans.
“There,” I announced proudly. “Problem solved.”
He looked down at it.
Then at me.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
A laugh escaped him again, quieter this time.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Yet effective.”
The two of us kept walking through the quieter streets, still connected by the strap clipped between our waists. Every now and then the tension on it would tighten when one of us drifted too far, pulling the other closer again like a reminder.
The alcohol still sat warm in my veins. Not enough to blur everything anymore, but enough to make the night feel softer around the edges.
“You know,” he said, glancing back at me, “this is probably the strangest way I’ve ever walked someone home.”
I laughed quietly. “You’re the one walking around with your hood up like some mysterious guy in a drama.”
“It’s called avoiding drunk strangers.”
“It’s called suspicious.”
He grinned at that, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that made my stomach tighten.
The neighborhood became prettier the farther we walked. The noise from downtown faded until all I could hear were distant cars and our shoes scraping against the sidewalk. Small warm streetlights glowed above narrow alleys and ivy-covered walls.
Eventually, once the streets became emptier, he finally pushed his hood down.
And my God.
The blond hair should not have looked that good on him.
Slightly messy now from the wind, soft under the streetlights, falling perfectly around his face like he walked straight out of an album photobook.
I stared a second too long.
He noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“That sounds creepier.”
I ignored him dramatically.
Then we both stopped at the same time.
There was a flower shop tucked between two old buildings, closed for the night but still illuminated by a dim golden lamp above the door. Bouquets filled the display window, but outside, climbing along the fence, bloomed a massive pale flower I didn’t recognize.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “That’s beautiful.”
He looked at me instead of the flower.
“You should take a picture with it.”
“Me? No. I look insane right now.”
“You look drunk,” he corrected.
“That’s not better.”
“It’s cute, though.”
My face warmed instantly.
He took my phone before I could protest and motioned for me to stand near the flowers. Laughing, I fixed my hair badly with my fingers while he crouched slightly to frame the shot.
“No, no,” he muttered. “Stay like that.”
“Like what?”
“Exactly like that.”
The camera clicked.
“Let me see.”
He immediately held the phone above my reach.
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re evil.”
“And you’re clingy.”
I tugged lightly on the strap connecting us until he stumbled closer with a surprised laugh.
“Careful,” he warned softly.
But neither of us moved away.
I could feel his fingers brush mine when he finally handed the phone back. Tiny accidental touches that didn’t feel accidental anymore.
So I took pictures of him too.
At first he pretended to hate it, hiding his face, turning away, groaning every time the camera pointed at him. But eventually he gave up, leaning against the flower shop fence with his hands in his pockets while the dim light hit the sharp line of his jaw.
The blond hair.
The sleepy eyes.
The black hoodie.
It genuinely looked like a magazine shoot.
My breath caught a little.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Because you look illegally good right now.”
He laughed under his breath, looking down for a second.
I stepped closer to show him the picture. His shoulder pressed against mine as we both stared at the screen. Neither of us commented on how close we were standing.
Then he turned his head slightly.
I looked up at the exact same time.
Too close.
His eyes flicked down to my lips.
My heart slammed once against my ribs.
For a second I thought he was going to kiss me.
But footsteps echoed somewhere nearby and the moment broke. He cleared his throat softly and straightened.
“We should keep going,” he murmured.
“…Yeah.”
After that, silence settled between us.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
He walked ahead this time while I followed a step behind, staring at the back of his hoodie, at the strap connecting us swaying between our bodies.
Then we reached a narrow side street hidden between buildings. Dark, quiet, almost completely empty.
Without thinking too much, I grabbed the strap.
He looked back just as I tugged hard enough to pull him toward me.
“What—”
My back hit the wall softly.
And then suddenly he was there.
Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
His hands landed beside my head instinctively while the strap between our waists hung loose now.
Neither of us spoke.
I could hear both our breathing.
“You’re staring again,” he said quietly.
“Can you blame me?”
Something in his expression shifted.
Then he kissed me.
Slowly at first.
Like he was checking if this was real.
His lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly like alcohol and mint. My fingers curled into the front of his hoodie automatically, pulling him closer while one of his hands slid carefully to my waist.
The kiss deepened little by little.
Unhurried.
Dangerous.
Every pause only lasted long enough for us to breathe before one of us leaned in again. My head spun harder than before, and I couldn’t tell anymore if it was the alcohol or him.
When he finally pulled back, we stayed there for a second, foreheads almost touching.
His lips were swollen now.
Mine probably looked worse.
And when we stepped back into the streetlight, I realized his hair was completely ruined too.
Messy blond strands falling into his eyes.
I burst into laughter.
“What?”
“Wait— don’t move.”
I stole his phone from his hoodie pocket before he could react.
“Hey—”
“No, trust me.”
I lifted the camera quickly and snapped a picture.
The result made both of us stop.
Because somehow he looked unfairly attractive.
Flushed cheeks. Messy blond hair. Kiss-bitten lips. Half-lidded eyes.
Like the cover photo of some heartbreak album.
“Oh my God,” I laughed. “You look like you ruin people emotionally.”
He stared at the picture and then at me.
“Delete that immediately.”
“Absolutely not. This is art.”
He shook his head, smiling despite himself.
Eventually, still laughing quietly, we continued toward the restaurant.
But the second we reached it, he stopped so suddenly I walked straight into his back.
“Ow—”
“Sorry.”
I peeked around him.
Dark windows.
Chairs stacked upside down.
A small sign hanging on the door.
CLOSED FOR VACATION.
“No way,” I groaned dramatically, resting my forehead against his shoulder. “I was emotionally attached to those imaginary noodles.”
He laughed softly.
Then after a moment he looked down at me.
“My apartment is close,” he said. “We could order food there instead.”
My eyes lifted slowly.
“…Okay.”
So we sat on a bench outside while he opened a delivery app. Somehow choosing food together felt weirdly intimate.
“What do you want?”
“Burger.”
“Good choice.”
“And fries.”
“Obviously.”
He handed me the phone so I could customize my order. I pressed random options lazily before removing onions.
“No onions?” he asked, glancing at me with the faintest smirk.
The look on his face made my stomach flip instantly.
Like he thought I was planning ahead.
Like I removed them because I intended to kiss him again.
My ears burned immediately.
“I hate onions,” I said quickly.
His smile widened a little.
“Mhm.”
“I’m serious.”
“Sure.”
I stared at him in disbelief while he laughed quietly to himself.
In the end we ordered hamburgers and a ton of fries from his favorite place.
Then we walked the remaining few blocks to his apartment building.
The lobby lights were painfully bright after the dark streets.
An older security guard looked up from his desk immediately.
I straightened up with all the dignity my drunk self could gather.
“안녕하세요,” I said politely, though the word came out slightly too slow.
The guard smiled knowingly.
Beside me, he covered his face briefly with embarrassment and a laugh.
“Oh my God,” he muttered under his breath.
“What? I’m being respectful.”
“You’re being visibly drunk.”
“Same thing.”
Before the guard could say anything else, he grabbed the strap connecting us and tugged it lightly, forcing me to stumble after him toward the elevator while he laughed quietly to himself.
The elevator ride upstairs was painfully quiet.
Not awkward quiet.
The dangerous kind.
The kind where every tiny movement suddenly felt noticeable.
The strap was still hanging from both our waists, slightly tangled now after all the walking, and every time the elevator shifted I brushed against him again.
Neither of us acknowledged it.
When the doors finally opened, he guided me down a softly lit hallway before stopping in front of a dark door.
A soft beep.
The lock clicked open.
And the second I stepped inside, I almost froze.
His apartment was gorgeous.
Not in an overly flashy way either. It was warm. Modern. Huge windows overlooking the city, low golden lighting, dark furniture, vinyls stacked beside a record player, expensive speakers, framed artwork along the walls.
It looked exactly like the type of apartment someone secretly dreamed about living in.
I slowly turned in a circle.
“…Wow.”
He laughed quietly behind me while slipping off his shoes.
“Too much?”
“No,” I answered immediately. “Just enough to make me question every life decision I’ve made.”
That made him laugh harder.
I kicked off my shoes too, wobbling slightly in the process before catching myself against the wall.
Right then, his phone buzzed.
“The food’s here already.” He glanced toward the door before looking back at me. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”
I nodded obediently.
He turned to leave.
Only for both of us to get abruptly yanked back by the strap still attached to our waists.
There was a second of silence before we both looked down.
Then immediately burst out laughing.
“Oh my God.”
“We’re actually idiots,” he said through laughter while unclipping the strap from his jean.
“I forgot that thing even existed.”
“Clearly.”
I finally unclipped my side too, still giggling while he shook his head.
“I’ll be back.”
Once he left, I wandered around slowly, looking at the apartment more carefully.
The city lights reflected against the massive windows, painting soft gold across the dark floors. There were little things everywhere that somehow made the place feel lived in despite how polished it looked. Hoodies tossed over a chair, headphones left beside the couch, half-finished candles on shelves.
It felt strangely comforting.
I was still looking around when the front door opened again.
He walked in carrying the food bags and the smell hit immediately.
“Oh thank God,” I sighed dramatically.
“You were struggling?”
“Deeply.”
He laughed and started unpacking everything onto the kitchen island while I reached for my wallet automatically.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
I looked up immediately. “No?”
“No.”
“You literally paid for all of this.”
“And?”
“And I have manners?”
He snorted softly while pulling containers out of the bag.
“I invited you.”
“At least let me transfer you half.”
He shook his head without even looking at me. “No.”
I frowned dramatically.
“Then next time I’m paying.”
That finally made him pause.
Slowly, he looked up at me with the faintest smirk.
“Ah… so there’s a next time?”
Heat rushed instantly to my face.
“I— no— I mean—”
His smile widened immediately.
“I meant if we ever hang out again,” I clarified quickly. “Like generally. In a normal human way.”
“Mhm.”
“That sounded less embarrassing in my head.”
“I’m sure it did.”
I pointed accusingly at him while he laughed quietly to himself.
The smell of fries finally distracted me enough to stop dying internally.
I stole one immediately.
Only to make a face.
“Soggy.”
“The delivery curse,” he sighed dramatically.
“Tragic.”
“Wait.” He pointed at me seriously. “I have a solution.”
I watched him grab a frying pan.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”
He poured a little oil into the pan before tossing the fries back in, moving them around skillfully while the oil crackled softly.
I leaned against the counter watching him.
“You cook?”
“A little.”
“A little?” I repeated. “You just revived dead fries.”
“That’s a very specific skill.”
Within minutes the fries were somehow perfect again.
Golden.
Crispy.
Actually hot.
I stared at him in disbelief after taking a bite.
“Oh my God.”
He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“Told you.”
“You’re dangerously useful.”
“I get that a lot.”
The burgers somehow tasted even better after the long night out. We sat on the floor by the coffee table eating lazily, occasionally stealing fries from each other while some random late-night show played softly in the background.
And honestly?
It felt weirdly natural.
Comfortable.
Like we’d done this before.
Every now and then I caught myself staring at him again.
At the blond hair falling into his eyes.
At the way his rings tapped lightly against the water glass.
At the tiny freckles scattered across his nose that were somehow even more noticeable this close.
And every single time he caught me.
“You really do stare a lot,” he mumbled before taking another bite.
I pointed at him dramatically with a fry.
“You’re distracting-looking.”
“That’s not a sentence.”
“It is tonight.”
His laugh came out softer this time.
Warmer.
By the time we finished eating, my friend still hadn’t answered.
Not a single text.
Not a call.
Nothing.
I frowned at my phone while sitting cross-legged on the couch.
“She’s actually dead to me.”
“She’s probably asleep.”
“She abandoned me for a man.”
“That’s fair.”
I gasped in fake offense while he laughed.
Then after a moment, he leaned back against the couch and glanced at me carefully.
“You should just sleep here tonight.”
I looked up.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He stood up casually. “It’s late anyway.”
Before I could answer, he disappeared briefly down the hallway and came back holding clothes.
A pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
“These are probably huge on you,” he warned.
“They smell like fabric softener.”
“…That’s your review?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head with a quiet laugh before pointing toward another hallway.
“Bathroom’s there if you want to change.”
The sweatpants were ridiculously long on me.
The shirt wasn’t much better.
Soft white fabric hanging loosely off one shoulder and just sheer enough without a bra underneath to make me stare at myself for a second in the mirror.
I looked very obviously like a girl wearing a guy’s clothes after staying over.
And somehow that realization made my stomach flip.
When I walked back into the bedroom, he had changed too.
Loose pajama pants hanging low on his hips.
No shirt.
I almost forgot how breathing worked.
Because under the soft lighting, his body looked unfair.
Broad shoulders, toned arms, defined chest, lean muscles shaped like someone who danced and trained constantly.
And the blond hair somehow made it worse.
He looked up at me casually while fixing one of the pillows.
Meanwhile I was actively trying not to malfunction.
“I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” he said. “You take the bed.”
“What?” I frowned immediately.
“It’s fine.”
“The bed is literally huge.”
“I know, but—”
“And your couch looks uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It looks like back pain.”
That made him laugh.
“There’s no point in you sleeping out there.”
He hesitated slightly.
Then I reached out and grabbed his hand gently.
“Stay.”
His eyes flicked down to our hands before he laughed softly under his breath.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
I asked moving closer to the bed without letting go of his hand. I clambed in and sat up, the oversized shirt sliding slightly while the blanket pooled around my waist.
His eyes immediately flicked away.
Cute.
He stepped closer and pulled the blanket higher over me with nervous fingers.
“I think you should just sleep.”
“The bed is big,” I argued quietly. “It doesn’t make sense for you to suffer on the couch.”
He stared at me for a second before finally sighing.
“Fine.” His fingers squeezed mine lightly. “But you have to behave.”
I nodded immediately.
Too quickly.
Because he narrowed his eyes at me right after, clearly noticing.
Then, with a small laugh, he climbed into bed beside me.
Still only wearing the pajama pants.
No shirt.
Absolutely evil behavior.
“Don’t stare,” he warned teasingly.
“I’m literally suffering.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It’s accurate.”
He laughed again before settling properly under the blanket beside me.
“Cold?” I asked softly.
“Nah.” He opened one arm slightly. “Just keep me warm.”
I moved closer instantly, curling against his side while he pulled the blanket over both of us.
And for a while, neither of us spoke.
I just watched him quietly.
The long eyelashes.
The full lips still slightly swollen from kissing me earlier.
The freckles dusted across his nose.
He looked softer like this.
Less untouchable.
My fingers traced lightly along his chest before drifting lower.
Immediately his hand caught my wrist gently.
He opened one eye slightly.
“…What are you doing?”
I blinked innocently.
“Nothing.”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A laugh escaped him quietly through his nose while he tightened his grip slightly, pulling my hand back up against his chest.
“You’re trouble.”
“You noticed late.”
He shook his head softly before lifting my hand to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against my knuckles.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he murmured quietly.
Then he kissed me again.
Slow enough to make my head spin instantly.
Warm kisses that lingered just enough to make me want more before he pulled back again.
“Trust me,” he whispered against my lips. “I really want to.”
One of his hands brushed my hair away from my face gently.
“But I don’t want our first time to happen because we’re drunk and everything feels intense right now.”
His fingertips slowly traced down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I want you to remember it properly,” he continued softly. “Every single thing.”
My heart tightened embarrassingly fast at that.
“And when I touch you,” he whispered near my ear, “I want you to remember exactly how it felt the next morning too.”
I melted slightly.
Actually melted.
Because somehow that was even worse.
Or better.
I wasn’t sure anymore.
I nodded quietly against him, already half hypnotized by his voice alone.
His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer against his chest.
“So,” he murmured sleepily, “can you be good and wait for me?”
