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Sunlight dapples through Seungyoun’s messily pulled curtains right over his face, causing him to scrunch his nose and turn away from the bright light. It’s gotta be pretty late now, judging by the way the sun’s shining directly into his room and he spends a moment fighting with himself; should he just get up or attempt to chase sleep for a little while longer?
A loud car honk decides in his place. It blares once, twice, thrice, and Seungyoun groans audibly at that, trying to shove himself under the comforter. Too bad it does nothing to stop the noise from reaching him when it starts up again, another round of loud noise that has him shoving his head under the pillow, prompting a powerful wave of nausea to wash over him. Great.
It’s one of those hangovers, brought on not only by too much alcohol but also Seungyoun mixing his drinks. Literally. He remembers doing shots and then switching to cocktails when he got too drunk, too fast, thinking not downing a drink in under a second might help somewhat. He walked around with tall glasses complete with the complementary tiny umbrellas, courtesy of a giggly Juyeon. Seungyoun went with it because what the hell; everybody should be able to get a drink with an umbrella in it.
Ten hours later, he regrets it. Every single one of those pink and blue and clear concoctions that he ultimately ended up downing, he regrets them. He feels it in the pitch of his stomach, a hook that’s sitting just behind his belly button as he tries sitting up, and then rolling out of bed when that makes the room sway dangerously. Seungyoun ends up on his knees on the floor, biting back a curse and the acidic taste of bile. Too much movement for his poor body to handle right now.
Biting his tongue, he manages to get up on the second try. His upper body is back on the mattress but after that it’s an easy step up, and he stands upright without falling back down. He comes close to it, though, and he keeps swaying on his feet even though he’s trying to stand still. He’ll deem it a work in progress.
The first thing he needs to do is brush his teeth, Seungyoun decides. His mouth tastes like crap and it feels cottony, tongue too big to fit behind his teeth properly. He (clutches) trails his fingers along the wall as he walks, trying to keep his eyes fixed ahead lest he falls prey to the nausea threatening to overtake him. Once he’s done with that, he can’t wait to stop in the living room for a quick break before he’s off to search for coffee.
The house is quiet when he steps into the tiny hallway going into the living room. There’s a certain funk in the air, something Seungyoun suspects is coming from himself; but when he lifts his shirt to sniff he finds that nothing’s amiss. Must’ve changed right before bed, even if he doesn’t remember doing it. The scent that greets him is that of his laundry softener, somewhat faded but still recognizable.
He thinks he’s imagining it when he sees a socked foot hanging off his couch. Seungyoun thinks it must be the corner of one of his little throw pillows, except those are maroon and currently thrown around the couch. One of them is to the side and the other is behind the couch, sending Seungyoun’s pulse skyrocketing when his eyes land on it. His stomach rolls again, just when it started settling, and he scrambles to pick something up to defend himself with. Unfortunately, he doesn’t find anything in his immediate vicinity and Seungyoun just clenches his fists and grinds his teeth instead.
Peeking his head over the back of the couch reveals that his trespasser is still fast asleep. His hair is dark, almost black, and his face is turned away from Seungyoun where he’s sleeping on his stomach. Nothing dangerous about him yet, but Seungyoun knows that having a stranger on his couch isn’t something you treat lightly—especially with the way he’s built. Thick thighs wrapped in dark jeans, broad shoulders hidden under his beige shirt; most likely somebody around Seungyoun’s own age or a student, if he had to guess.
As if he can hear the little wheels in Seungyoun’s head turn, the man on the couch shifts around, toes wriggling as he tries to get more comfortable. Seungyoun thinks he’s gonna get up and find him there and he yelps, the sound close enough to the guy’s ears even with the back of the couch between them.
It sets off a chain reaction: the guy turns towards Seungyoun, eyes still half closed and lips pouty with sleep, which in turn makes Seungyoun take a step back and fall on his ass. The guy realizes that the sound wasn’t part of his dream and he snaps awake instantly, attempting to sit up on the couch. It must be too much for his poor body as well because he clutches his head, then his mouth, and then he’s off towards the bathroom. The precision as he beelines for the door (as well as the fact that he manages to walk in a mostly straight line) amazes Seungyoun but it also scares him when the boy gets a bit too close to the wall for his liking. He passes through a handful of scenarios as the door to the bathroom closes behind the stranger’s figure, thinking he’s always lived in his apartment walls and only come out once in a blue moon. Nevermind that the walls are paper thin and Seungyoun lives in an apartment, bordered by other apartments on most sides. It would be quite the feat.
Moments later, the toilet flushes and the guy steps out of the bathroom. His eyes are rimmed in red and he’s scratching his nose absentmindedly, steps turning hesitant once he sees Seungyoun next to the couch again. Was he hoping this was all a dream? Seungyoun pinches himself just in case, squawking when that leaves a mark on his skin.
“I can explain,” the boy starts hesitantly. His voice sounds deep, probably courtesy of Seungyoun waking him up moments ago, and his cheeks pinken cutely as he pauses. “I just moved in and I went to last night’s party.” He lifts up his arm to scritch at his nape, eyes avoiding Seungyoun. “Think I got the wrong floor on the way back…”
Definitely a student then. Seungyoun thinks long and hard, but can’t remember seeing Yohan last night. After a while everything started to blur together, even his old friends’ faces. Though he thinks he should remember somebody as cute as the man sitting in front of him. He’s as tall as Seungyoun but with more muscle padding his frame, and his front teeth peek from under his top lip in a way that reminds Seungyoun of a bunny. He decides he’s definitely not half-bad to look at.
“Seungyoun,” he says as he sticks out his arm, fingers trembling slightly. The guy takes his hand and shakes it, grip strong and warm around Seungyoun’s tiny fingers. “Yohan,” he offers, grinning at him until his eyes turn into little half-moons. Seungyoun’s instantly smitten and he even swooms a little, though that might be the hangover he’s definitely still nursing.
“I’m not mad at you breaking it,” he says, ignoring Yohan’s little affronted noise. “Should’ve locked the door if I didn’t want people passing out on my couch, right?” Seungyoun manages to keep his expression pleasant as the room swims in and out of focus again, standing in front of Yohan and gesturing towards the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”
Yohan agrees, wincing when his first instinct is to nod and he follows that without much thought. One hand goes back to his head, massaging his temple, and his lips stick out in a pout that has no right to make Seungyoun want to sigh and coo at him.
Warming up some water, Seungyoun thinks that Yohan doesn’t have to know that he actually doesn’t own any real coffee—just the instant kind, which happens to be cheap and also tastes horrible no matter how much sugar you dump into it. They can bond over that.