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My muse makes a drunk confession to your muse.
On nights of opulent solitude, he chooses to submerge himself in a torrent of his own thoughts. This is when he delves into everything that has been bothering him for the past week or so and searches for a solution to his problems. Tonight, Taeyong had taken to the balcony with a few bottles of soju and aimed to drink the night away (or at least, until he feels sick to his stomach).
Taeyong lingers near the back of the balcony, leaning over the metal baluster with a half-empty bottle of soju wielded between his hands. He twiddles the bottle, absentmindedly, watching as its contents oscillate from one side to the other in a quicken pace. He’d been doing this for the past forty seconds now and still does not know exactly what he finds so enthralling about this. However, he stops when he raises his arm mid-air and takes another swing out of the bottle. It has been months since he last had a drink, let alone on his own. But given today’s occasion (re: his birthday), he figures he’d do what the majority normally do on their birthdays and celebrate, even if that meant doing so on his own. He doesn’t mind, though, he finds comfort in being by himself every now and then.
He gradually loses himself with each bottle that he consumed. It isn’t long until he’s inebriated. Taeyong does not drink often, but when he does, this is the problem that almost always arises: he hasn’t an ounce of control in him, especially whenever he entertains a myriad of despairing thoughts. Losing count after the third bottle, he discards the one he’s currently drinking on the floorboard and settles down beside it, lissome fingers ensnared in his hair as he shut his eyes.
His head is spinning, his vision is waning.
It isn’t until he vaguely picked up on the distant reverberation of the front door being unlocked that he diverted his attention into the apartment. Due to his bleary vision, it was actually rather difficult to make out the features of the face his eyes flickered over. Difficult, but not impossible. “Jaehyun, is that you?” He succinctly asks, words slurred when uttered. Grasping onto the railing in an effort to haul himself off of the floor, he struggles to stand; nearly loses his footing. His shoulders meets the iron balusters, knees planted firmly upon the cement flooring.
This is embarrassing, he looks pathetic.
Making his way into the apartment and down the hallway, he stands before Jaehyun sporting a perplexed expression and a flushed countenance. “What are you doing here? You told me that you’d be back late tonight,” he takes a long pause, brows skeptically furrowed. “Did you, by any chance, happen to miss me while you were away? Is that why you returned home early?”
He’s three long strides away from invading Jaehyun’s personal space. As soon as he does, Taeyong drapes an arm over the younger’s broad shoulders and turns to face them with a sardonic simper embellished across his mien. “You did miss me, huh? Fortunately for you, I missed you, too. I was wondering when you’d return home. I wanted us to spend the evening together.” His head falls onto the other’s, eyelids faltering with each second that crawled by. Taeyong remains in this position for god-knows how long, breathing slowly: inhales, exhales.
“Taeyong, have you been drinking?”
Before he had even been given time to answer, he was already being dragged to his bedroom. Taeyong follows sluggishly, feet scuffing against the carpeted floor as he obediently follows in Jaehyun’s lead. Needless to say, it is almost always this way between them: Jaehyun will pave a path to safety and Taeyong will follow the other as if he was a newborn puppy following around its mother.
He’s being pushed onto the bed, but he doesn’t want to lay down. He’s being told to rest, but he doesn’t want to sleep. He does not want to do anything other than what he had mentioned earlier, and that is spending this evening with Jaehyun. Taeyong has waited all day for this; he had even thrown on the ‘night’ shirt the other had given him and saved his birthday cake for them to share together (although he had blown out the candles).
Yet, looking at Jaehyun like this, It gets him thinking: his thoughts contain no plausible answer as to why he feels the strongest emotions he does towards them, neither can he even fathom the inexplicable feeling in his chest whenever he exchanges so much as to a single glance with the younger. Taeyong does, however, have a remote inkling as to what these feelings are and where they’ve derived from, but he’s terrified of acknowledging them. Acknowledging them, professing them, wouldn’t that put a strain on their relationship? He just got Jaehyun back, he doesn’t want to lose them again. However, he has been keeping this to himself for ages now; any longer, and he just might combust internally.
Unbeknownst to even himself, Taeyong prevents Jaehyun from leaving his bedroom by grasping onto their wrist and heaving them towards him. In a matter of seconds, his arms swarm around the younger’s torso from behind, chest pressed flush to the flat of their back. He embraces the as if he had not seen them in ages – tight and secure – with no intention of releasing them from his arms. When was the last time Taeyong had last held Jaehyun like this? When was the last time they had last shared any form of skin skip with each other? It’s been too long that he’s no recollection of either or.
“Jaehyun, do you have even the slightest clue as to how precious you are to me?” He breathes out in a soft susurration, nose nestling into the nape of their neck as his lashes gradually flutter shut. “So precious that I want to be the only person who understands your heart the most.”
