Maybe because Youngjae didn’t expect anything from brainless Jung Daehyun.

Who in his sober mind would? Place some hopes into wind-minded puppy?

The older guy wasn’t so enjoyable… Neither was he polite, nor an extremely funny joker to make Youngjae constantly burst with laughter.

But three hours they had spend in a bar, drinking and talking, passed and Youngjae didn’t notice when. Not until maid approached their table with apologetic face.

- What? – asked Daehyun. It was obvious enough, by deserted tables, by music playing much quiet, but Youngjae thought Dae could be a less gentleman with serving-and-waiting stuff. – Closing?

The waitress nodded:

- Its time, sorry, - her voice and expression both showing relief.

She must have had dealt with lots of drunk (completely wasted) folks at nights, unwilling to leave, to be happy with two young clients who could rise up to their own legs at least.

Though Dauhyun bumped the table while standing up and produced jittery sound from emptied beer bottles and a bump from crashing his ankle with wooden surface. He laughed happily at this and Youngjae could only think about one reason why: the sound of clasping bottles glass was fragile and clear, a nice-to-hear sound, and wooden bump sounded like a distant drum at festival week.

Daehyun wasn’t as drunk as it might seem from his awkwardness.

And he confessed Youngjae something like: “Wallet? Machete? I dunno…”, - they were done with couple of beers already and were discussing things to take to an inhabited island. Just in case. “I will take my mp3-player”, -  Daehyun’s voice was sure.

Gentleman had to pay for both, of course, and Youngjae wasn’t arguing at all. Always doing everything on his own (although with that sheepish face) he  simply confiscated the bill from Dae and decided he would pay him back his own half of money tomorrow.

Maybe.

Things might happen. A lot depended on the balance of that newly-formed “friendship”.

- Kid’s time, - Daehyun checked his mobile – huge white numbers 00:10 flashing in the night from the screen.

That was interesting. Youngjae had to decide once again his wrong YES against his right NO.

- I’ve got some cherry liquor, - replied Youngjae.

Forgive him. He just felt like another shot would be very welcomed inside his stomach. Accompanied by a cigarette from which he was deprived in non-smoking bar.

C’mon. Everybody knows this feeling of enough but a bit not enough to feel like an absolute god of an absolute good evening.

- Cherry? – mocked Daehyun. – Must be extremely popular with girls. Girlish drinks. Sweet, sweet, sweet and a little bit of alcohol in sweet.

Youngjae actually knew better. He noticed:

- It’s strong enough to bring you down… - actually watching pavement beneath his feet since they already were walking, slowly, in direction of his apartment.

- Want me to prove that no?

“Trapped”, - thought Youngjae. But now not imaging himself a wise old cat and Daehyun as a stupid mouse. Exactly opposite: he knew.

One either behaves very carefully asking someone (someone luxury like Dae) for 30-degree cherry liquor to his home or forgets reasoning.

- Not smoking? – asked Youngjae politely.

Pushed the ashtray on top of the lid of his small magazine table towards Daehyun and watched a bit. His guest’s face gave up some suggestions that he might be one of those “quitted” folks who keep a pack of smokes in their wardrobe for Friday nights.

Well, it was only Thursday.

Youngjae extracted small dancing flame out of his litter, breathed in the first drag. Blessed, relaxed, lowered himself in his chair and started thinking again.

He was sure now he didn’t wanted anything from Daehyun except him kept talking. Cherry liquor did its magic. Youngjae felt good already.

But someone kept talking is vital.

- Okay, - Daehyun admitted finally. He saw enough of teasing. – You’ve won. You know that I want it.

- Sure,- semi-laughing, his legs on the table, Youngjae agreed.

- But I won’t!

With his left hand Younjgae caught the cigarette pack Dayhyun had thrown at him, clumsy, somewhere on his belly, and gave emperor’s permission:

- Okay.

Either offended or offensive. Or maybe defensive?

Daehyun didn’t know for sure anything except he for some reason liked this uneasy guy in front of him now attentively inhaling what nicotine was left from the snatch of his cigarette.

There was a bit of mystification in him. As long as Daehyun knew him Youngjae was a closed box, unreachable as a server with https encrypted on.

Yet tonight he came to know that they share some interests, music included. Food. Some common believes.

Youngjae wasn’t an alien he usually tried to look like. A burner, negative, opposite…

With small laughter Daehyun realized tricky business with consuming sweet alcohol after liters of beer: he wasn’t like vomit, he felt warm, very warm lying on Youngjae’s sofa, cherry-tasted and extremely dizzy.

He lowered himself a bit and hugged small plush pillow with both hands. He knew himself that there were nothing masculine left in his image but sleepy kiddo saliva dripping from his mouth.

So that was no surprise when Youngjae noticed:

- You are done, - paused. Added as a matter of fact: - With girlish drink.

- Many thanks, bro, - sighed Daehyun. He tossed a bit as if checking whether black leather sofa was comfortable enough for his person to sleep at and added: - Looks like I’m staying here tonight. Invited or not.

 Youngjae stood up. Looked down at him. Maybe wondering what broke Daehyun into drunk sleepiness while he himself was quite okay and could stay up a little bit more.

Looked at his closed eyes and uneasy wrinkle across Daehyun’s forehead – the feature of people who struggle to keep their mind from carouseling inside their head.

Youngjae saw the older was drunk. Sighed. Went to his bedroom and brought extra blanked he kept there.

Spreading it over Daehyun’s body hugging all the plush pillows he collected Youngjae was sure about that bill. He was obliged to pay his half for tonight’s drinking.

There came a bit of unwelcomed frustration along with it.

- Thanks, - came half-muted with pillows and blanked Daehyun’s voice when Youngjae was sure he was already completely asleep. – I should’n be like that, I don’t know why…

- You shouldn’t, - Youngjae dropped to his knees for… a piece of revenge for that frustration which taunted him. He pointed to the reason: - We are not friends in the first place.

He indeed felt like he gained nothing from this evening besides very nice built but now unusable body sleeping at his place one more night.

And more than that he suspected he could talk a bit with that lover of girlish drinks while he was in this condition without Daehyun remembering anything tomorrow.

A carousel of wild wooden horses were taking Daehyun’s mind in a swirl but somewhere, deep inside, protected by experience of an alcoholic the lightning bulb of logic was still on.

- Depends… - weakly answered Daehyun, eyes still closed, - who is a friend… Who you believe is.

Surprised to his proposition being answered Youngjae bent closer to speaking pile of blanket. Drew his acid smile of a person sure that everybody lies and every promise ends up broken:

- Someone… who’d share a drink when I’m in desperate need of drinks and sharing.

Cautious laughter proved that Daehyun was still more on than off.

- Anytime, - he answered. – Call.

- We’ll see, - promised Youngjae getting up from the floor.

Déjà vu it is called, isn’t it?

Smell of coffee from the kitchen, sound of ceramic being dropped into the sink.

His own shiny deodorant faded away and got lost in vanilla aroma of the blanket Daehyun pushes off.

God bless girlish drinks. Girls mustn’t have hangovers.

Knowing better than showing Youngjae his face of a boiled frog Daehyun visits bathroom first. His look is really unpleasant and absence of a toothbrush is even worse.

- Didn’t bought me a toothbrush yet? – he greets Youngjae.

Again this you-are-a-wife game makes him amused despite his a bit used look.

- Manage things yourself, - recommends Youngjae.

He doesn’t even turn away from toasts and something…

Daehyun is peeping over his host’s shoulder.

Why on earth.

Strawberry jam. So yummy. So much wanted. So-so-so… desirable.

Without knowing someone is standing behind him, peeping, Youngjae turns full 180 degree and bumps into…

- How are you? – more of real interest than politeness asks Youngjae. – You look…

“Hangover”

But abrupt answer follows:

- H-h-hungry! – and there is no surprise Daehyung’s gaze is attached to fried bread and jar of jam.

- Sure, - weakly responds Youngjae. – In a moment it’s ready.

What else could catch brainless Jung attention? Guess how far is he from things that worry Youngjae so much? Like the moon?

He turned away. Swiftly. Like he always does covering what might show on his face beyond his willpower.

Daehyun doesn’t know what he did wrong this time (if he did, if it’s not only monstrousness of Youngjae’s nature) but he’s somehow sure that some expectations were broken this night.

From both sides.

Youngjae is fully dressed this morning, blue T-shirt, except forearms, covering all his strangely white body and it’s beyond control how memory keeps bringing it back.

Porcelain shoulders, a small brown dot of a mole on the right.

That’s an odd feeling when he touches blue fabric where he thinks the mole must be placed.

- What? – asks Youngjae thinking there is the reason for Daehyun poking his spine.