before his parents left, they made sure to remind him to stay out of trouble. said something along the lines of “not embarrassing them this year”, and “he should know better now that he’s 26”, and they’re right—he should.
but he’s friends with won. that alone is the perfect recipe for disaster.
he knows his parents hate it when he hangs around him, but they say nothing in consideration of his late aunt. (mom was not the biggest fan of the family she was marrying into but no one could tell that woman what to do with her life. it’s why she was jaerim’s favourite aunt.)
to be fair, even jaerim was not the biggest fan of her marriage. didn’t like the guy’s son (read: won), didn’t think his family was good for her. but he has said marriage to thank for the development of his friendship with won. he wouldn’t be caught dead telling the fella he loves him but he would (and has) cleaned up after him several times now. this means puke, blood, piss—whatever you can think of, he’s done it.
and he’s getting the inkling that he might have to do it again soon, if he doesn’t get to that bottle of wine before won does.
...he doesn’t. (he never does. it’s quite a feat how fast won is, even in a state of stupor.) he sighs, willing himself to look away, as if it wasn’t happening if he didn’t see it for himself. his attention gets stolen right away, by the fireworks blasting into the sky, lighting the dark canvas up each time it pierces through the clouds.
jaerim lets himself get distracted by the fireworks, mindlessly watching them burst into the sky like fountains of glitter, each sparkle dissipating into the midnight sky like cotton candy in water. odd, how something that had commanded so much attention could just fade away like that. he detaches himself from his environment, drowning out every bang and crackle of the fireworks; every chatter and laughter from the crowd of people near them.
in some ways, it felt therapeutic; to be at peace amidst the noise, to disappear into the crowd and be part of the audience watching something bigger, shinier. to even for a mere second, not have to worry about people watching his every move and defining him for it.
the temporary distraction did not last. a commotion begins not too far from him and that was when he realised his mistake—taking his eyes off won. he peels them away from the sky and searches his vicinity, only to find his friend standing atop a table, dangerously swaying with the bottle he never should've let him get a hold of.
jaerim rushes to the crime scene and climbs onto the table, using all his might to safely bring his friend down. he offers apologetic smiles to the people standing around the table, whose wine glasses had gotten knocked over by won's fancy shoes, muttering quick apologies to every scowling face. it didn't take long for them to get back on safe ground (he likes to believe he's an expert at dealing with intoxicated won now), but it felt long enough, with everyone shooting death stares their way.
he tugs his friend by the collar of his jacket, whispering sternly in his ear, "i thought we said we'll act like adults this year." he turns to offer someone yet another apologetic smile before turning back to his staggering friend, whispering through gritted teeth, "how much did you do?"
HABITUAL ft. @2billion