[ VISCOSITY ]
the thickness of a liquid. In painting, the viscosity of oil paints is altered by adding a binder (such as linseed oil) or a solvent (such as turpentine).
“So, the entire structure of the game is to bounce the ball into one of the cups,” Chanyeol explained, pressing the small ball into Junmyeon’s outstretched hand. “Whenever you get the ball into the cup, your opponent has to drink the booze that’s in the cup. Pretty straightforward, yeah?”
“But what’s the point, exactly?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly, rolling the ping pong ball nervously between his fingers. “Get through as many cups as you can so that you get your opponent as drunk as possible?”
“It’s called beer pong for a reason, Junmyeon,” Chanyeol replied, pursing his lips. “It’s a drinking game.”
There was a bad inkling in Junmyeon’s stomach. He shook his head, trying to hand the ball back to Chanyeol. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t think I should play this.”
“You’re sure?” Chanyeol asked, forehead creasing as he frowned. When he nodded, Chanyeol gave him a roll of his eyes that Junmyeon definitely didn’t miss, and definitely didn’t like. “Sounds like the others haven’t been too far off on their characterization of you.”
Junmyeon swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“Drunk or not, my friends had a point about you earlier. You really are afraid to live, aren’t you? You’re a priss,” Chanyeol said harshly, and although the other was taller than him, that wasn’t the reason why Junmyeon suddenly felt so small. “I’ve even heard things about you from Jongdae. He always said how fun it is to be around you, but from the way I see it, maybe he lied to me.”
Desperate to prove himself, Junmyeon didn’t stop himself from blurting out his thoughts. “I’m not a priss! And fine, I guess I am kinda scared. I’m just… You know I haven’t done things like this before.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Chanyeol told him, a strange glint in his eyes that Junmyeon did not notice, as the boy was still too wrapped up in his newfound embarrassment and desire to please. Chanyeol’s hand was lingering on his back again. “After all, we’re friends, right? Just trust me.”
Yifan (12:07 AM)
Something is wrong.
Luhan (12:12 AM)
Like you texting me at this hour and waking me up?
Leave me alone. I’m asleep.
Yifan (12:14 AM)
I don’t care if you’re sleeping. Look.
I think something happened to Junmyeon.
Luhan (12:16 AM)
Ok, I’ll bite. Something like what?
Yifan (12:19 AM)
Something bad. I’ve been trying to get a hold
of him since 9:30 and he hasn’t answered.
He always replies.
Luhan (12:22 AM)
He’s probably sleeping. Like you and I should be.
Yifan (12:26 AM)
Even if he’s sleeping now, Junmyeon ALWAYS replies
to me before he goes to bed, even if it’s just a damn
smiley face. And 98% of the time, he TELLS me that he’s
going to bed. I even called him earlier and he didn’t answer.
Luhan (12:30 AM)
You’re worrying too much, Kris.
Just go to bed. He’ll reply in the morning.
Yifan (12:32 AM)
You know I don’t sleep to begin with but
I definitely can’t sleep now. I’m worried about him.
Luhan (12:35 AM)
He’s 20 yrs old Kris. He’s an adult. Enrolled in a university.
He’s fine. Quit worrying and go to sleep.
I’m going back to bed. Bye.
Despite his friend’s words, there was a bad feeling in his stomach that Yifan just couldn’t shake.
The icepack was absolutely freezing in his hands.
“Chanyeoool,” Junmyeon whined, speech slurred as he readjusted his grip on the icepack. “It’s cold.”
“Of course it is,” Chanyeol replied bluntly, reaching over to wrangle the icepack out of Junmyeon’s grip. Junmyeon let out a rather pathetic whimpering noise as Chanyeol pressed the chilled object against his forehead. “It’s an icepack. It’s supposed to be cold.”
“I don’t like it,” Junmyeon complained, voice loud and speech somewhat garbled. He reached up with one hand and weakly pushed at Chanyeol’s own, trying to get the younger male to lower the icepack. “I don’t want you to use it on me anymore.”
“You wouldn’t need it if you had watched what you were doing,” Chanyeol pointed out, frowning as he easily pushed Junmyeon’s hand away and continued his work. After a moment – and ignoring Junmyeon’s whining the entire time – Chanyeol lowered the pack and prodded at the boy’s forehead with two fingers. He scowled, able to feel a lump forming beneath the skin.
Of all the outcomes in the world, Chanyeol hadn’t been expecting for their game of beer pong to end with Junmyeon smacking his head against the table. The first round had been neck and neck, but even so, Chanyeol had managed to get a few beers into Junmyeon’s system. And as the alcohol kicked in, Junmyeon’s reflexes slowly weakened. By the time they started their second game, Junmyeon’s ability to play had decreased immensely. And with Chanyeol actually having experience, both in terms of drinking and in drinking games, it wasn’t long before his shots had Junmyeon drinking constantly.
Junmyeon being drunk was no surprise to him, but the fact that Junmyeon had dropped the ball and bent down to get it, only to smack his face on the edge of the table, well, that had definitely been an event Chanyeol hadn’t been anticipating. Junmyeon had hit his forehead so hard that he had nearly knocked himself unconscious, so it was relieving to find that the only damage was a lump, and what was sure to be a nasty bruise later.
“Jongdae said you were clumsy, but I didn’t think you would be this damn clumsy,” Chanyeol said then, having to shout so that Junmyeon could hear him. The two of them were sitting on the living room couch, huddled together near one of the armrests. “You must be drunker than I thought.”
“I’m not that drunk,” Junmyeon whined, although his appearance and mannerisms were betraying him. His speech was already growing difficult to decipher, and there was a flush beginning to appear on his cheeks. He huffed, again swatting at Chanyeol’s hand in an attempt of making him lower the icepack. “You need to quuuit. I don’t want it anymore. It’s too cold.”
“And you need to hush and accept the fact that as swollen as your head is getting, ice is something you need right now,” Chanyeol argued, once more shoving Junmyeon’s hand away and back down towards the couch. “Knock it off, Junmyeon!”
“No, you knock it off!” Junmyeon complained, once more swinging at Chanyeol’s hang, and this time, managed to make contact. He smacked the icepack out of the student’s grip, and Chanyeol glanced down in time to see it land roughly in his lap. Before he had a chance to reach down and grab it, Junmyeon beat him to it. Without hesitation, Junmyeon’s right hand surged out and dove right into Chanyeol’s lap, and way too close to a rather personal spot between his legs. With a victorious cry, Junmyeon pulled away with the icepack in his hand.
As if to rub it in, Junmyeon held the icepack above his head, as if thinking it would then be out of Chanyeol’s reach. “It’s mine now and you can’t have it! I didn’t come to this party to have cold things put on my face!”
“Then what did you come to this party for?” Chanyeol spluttered, struggling to keep his composure intact after Junmyeon had just touched him like that. It was difficult not to drop a comment about Junmyeon’s ‘things on my face’ spiel, but he managed.
Junmyeon was pouting, lips pushed together and eyebrows furrowed unhappily over two narrowed eyes. He was still holding the icepack above his head. “To have fun. And meet people.”
The right corner of Chanyeol’s mouth pulled into an amused smirk. “Well, you’ve met me now, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re being mean to me,” Junmyeon huffed, shaking the icepack violently above his head for emphasis. “You kept putting this stupid thing on my face!”
“How about you let me make it up to you? It’s the least I can do,” Chanyeol said calmly, eyes hooded. Junmyeon glanced down as the larger male proceeded to place a hand on his knee, but he didn’t make any movement to push him away. “Sound good? I can help you have a lot of fun here tonight, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon took a moment to ponder it, the silence between them filled with too-loud music and pounding bass. And when Junmyeon lowered the icepack in surrender, Chanyeol knew he had the boy right where he wanted him.
Sehun (11:57 PM)
I already told you I’m not talking to Junmyeon.
Jongdae (12:02 AM)
u got a! ur both h er nyways. Pls?
Sehun (12:04 AM)
What the hell is up with your spelling? Are you drunk?
Jongdae (12:06 AM)
Dunt b meen to me. :(
Talk 2 him.OK? 4 me?
Sehun was sure if he had to deal with one more drunk person, he was going to lose it. He was one hundred percent certain he was the only sober person standing within the four walls of the fraternity house. Sehun didn’t even like parties to begin with; he had only attended to keep an eye on Zitao, as his friend had been grossly eager to attend the event and to start drinking. A lot of bad things could happen to a drunk person, and Sehun was trying to watch out for his friend to make sure none of the possibilities would happen to him. Like falling down the stairs. Or getting alcohol poisoning. Or being alone in the bathroom and choking to death on his own vomit. None of those sounded good, and Sehun didn’t want any of them to come to light if he could prevent them.
He was honestly debating on dragging Zitao back to the dorms. It was already getting late, and Sehun just wanted to go to sleep at this point. Instead, he was standing awkwardly in a corner while Zitao was laughing too loudly next to a girl on the couch. Trying to keep himself occupied so that he didn’t have to watch Zitao flirt with her like she was the last woman on earth, Sehun kept himself glued to the wall and played with his phone. He had been getting quite a few texts from Jongdae tonight. Jongdae’s texts were typically very coherent and hardly ever contained errors, but from how they looked at the moment, it was obvious that he had been drinking too much, just like everyone else.
He really needed to get out of here.
It wasn’t like he had anything to keep him busy now anyway. Those last few texts he had sent to Jongdae had officially killed the remainder of his low battery, so now his phone didn’t even have any juice left in it. Taking that as a signal that it was finally time for him to leave, Sehun sighed and peeled himself off the wall before approaching the couch. Simply getting there was difficult, as the living room had filled up with a copious amount of drunk people all squeezed together and dancing along to the too-loud music that was still blaring.
“Zitao,” Sehun called, tapping his friend on the shoulder twice with his fingers. Someone bumped into him from behind and Sehun turned for just a second to give them a dirty glance that went unnoticed. Zitao swiveled slightly on the couch, eyes bright and his face lit up in a huge grin, still nursing a red cup in one hand. “Get up. We’re gonna go home.”
“But I don’t wanna go yet,” Zitao complained, smile hardly faltering despite his words. “Can’t we stay a little longer? Don’t be so uptight.”
“Zitao, we’ve been here long enough. You and I both have class tomorrow,” Sehun pointed out, though he really doubted Zitao would even be going to class at this rate. “And another thing—“
Someone bumped into him yet again. Losing his patience, Sehun his heel to say something back, like a rather snappy ‘watch it’, but he temporarily lost his thought process when he noticed a rather tight circle of people had formed behind him, huddling near one corner. All of them seemed energized about something, and knowing a bunch of drunk people, it probably wasn’t anything good. Still, Sehun couldn’t help but feel curious about the situation. And judging by the way Zitao heaved himself to his feet – wobbling a little in the process – he was wondering the same thing.
“What’re they doin’?” Zitao asked him, huddling close to Sehun as he stood up on his tiptoes to try to peek over the heads of the other students. “Drinking contest?”
“Looks like it,” Sehun replied, voice and face unimpressed. It was disgusting in his eyes to begin with to let yourself hit that point, but adding in the fact that a large number of attendees were underage, well, that just rubbed him the wrong way even more. “Probably some freshman trying to impress the upperclassmen as usual.”
Through the crowd of kids, Sehun could see a rather tall boy with a messy cut of brown hair, eagerly egging someone on. Sehun wasn’t sure who he was. However, thanks to being very similar to that stranger in height, Sehun could easily see over majority of the other students’ heads. And after a few moments of curiously waiting, some kids finally shuffled to either side just enough so that he could get a glimpse of the mysterious person who was caught in the middle of the mess.
However, upon seeing his roommate standing there, lowering the cup of beer he had just been chugging, Sehun’s body suddenly felt strangely cold.
“Is that…?” Zitao started, eyebrows arching in surprise. He slapped Sehun on the arm. “Holy , Sehun, it’s Junmyeon.”
“I can see that,” Sehun replied dumbly.
Junmyeon didn’t even look like himself. There was a wet spot on his shirt from where he had apparently spilled beer on himself, his face was flushed pink, and while he kept laughing, he started stumbling at the same time until that strange boy with the brown hair wrapped him up in his arms to hold him up. Junmyeon acted like he knew this kid his entire life. He was giggling nonstop, residing in his arms and burrowing his face into the guy’s chest as he continued to hold his now empty red cup in a death grip with one hand.
Something clicked in Sehun’s head. Was this what Junmyeon had gotten so defensive over? Junmyeon had never mentioned this kid before, but with how he seemed plenty comfortable with him, maybe they knew each other plenty well by now. Sehun couldn’t help but wonder: just how close were they? He couldn’t stop himself from pondering if the two were on better terms than he thought, such as an actual relationship residing behind closed doors Sehun had never managed to pry open. It would make sense if the two of them were dating. Junmyeon wasn’t home as much as he used to be, hanging out with a person Sehun didn’t know – and that Junmyeon didn’t want to tell him about – so perhaps he was growing so defensive over the fact he was secretly dating someone.
If the two were a couple, why was this happening? Perhaps some couples were different from others, but Sehun didn’t understand why someone’s boyfriend would continue to urge them to drink when they were already so sloshed. Junmyeon was obviously awfully drunk by now. He couldn’t even stand up on his own anymore. Why was this guy still encouraging him to drink when Junmyeon was so wasted? At the rate he was going, Sehun wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t wind up with alcohol poisoning.
If the two were a couple, why did Junmyeon look so uncomfortable when the boy touched him? Junmyeon didn’t have any issues with leaning against the stranger, and it wasn’t like he had much of a choice anyway. He couldn’t stay up on his own two feet and needed to lean against something just to hold himself up. But as he stood there, forehead pressed into the man’s bone, Sehun watched, mortified, as Junmyeon jolted a good few inches when the boy suddenly placed his left hand on Junmyeon’s . Junmyeon was instantly trying to wiggle away from him, pushing weakly at the boy’s chest, hand jerking and sending some beer sloshing out of his cup.
If the two were a couple, why did the boy that Sehun didn’t know have that smirk on his face?
Something wasn’t right here.
Sehun lost sight of them for a moment. The two had vanished into the sea of other students, and Sehun wasn’t quite sure why that made him feel so panicked. There was a sudden rush of overprotectiveness in his blood and the fact he didn’t know where his roommate was, alone with some guy Sehun didn’t know, it worried him deeply.
He just barely managed to catch sight of the two of them heading up the stairs, hand in hand.
The door was closed. The bed was soft beneath him. Junmyeon hiccupped, groaning as he rolled himself onto his back. His tummy hurt all of a sudden. Chanyeol mentioned he would help him lie down, so that was nice. Speaking of Chanyeol, the bed shifted, and Junmyeon peeked through his mess of red hair to see the bigger student clambering up onto the bed beside him. Chanyeol said he would take care of him. He’d be okay. Maybe if he was lucky Chanyeol could make his stomach stop hurting too.
“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon mumbled, voice so slurred it was difficult to understand a single syllable coming out of his mouth. He was lying flat of his back on the mattress, one leg dangling over the edge of the bed. Chanyeol’s hands were planted on either side of his face, and Junmyeon squeezed his eyes shut, as if it would make the nausea leave. “’M dizzy.”
“You’ve had a lot to drink. That’s why,” Chanyeol told him, smirk on his lips as he clutched fistfuls of the bedding between his fingers, hovering over the smaller male on his hands and knees. “Don’t worry about it. Focus on me.”
“For what?” Junmyeon asked, speech severely slurred. He let out a rather pathetic whine, one small hand coming up to rub at his eyes. “Are you gonna make me not be dizzy anymore?”
“I guess you could put it that way,” Chanyeol replied, edges of his mouth curled up as he leaned down, resting the majority of his weight into one elbow. With his free hand, he grabbed Junmyeon by the chin, twisting the boy’s head to one side so that he could look into Junmyeon’s eyes. “I can take your mind off of things.”
Junmyeon’s eyes, coupled with dilated pupils, opened a little wider as Chanyeol suddenly crushed their mouths together with a force hard enough to bruise. For a moment, mind blank and numbed from far too much alcohol, Junmyeon just lied there, frozen as Chanyeol kissed him roughly.
At last, he managed to gather his bearings.
“Mmph—“ Junmyeon started against Chanyeol’s mouth, his hands fumbling and pushing weakly at the bigger student’s chest. His legs jerked, impulsively trying to raise them closer to his torso. When Chanyeol broke the kiss, both to breathe and to figure out what was suddenly bothering Junmyeon, Junmyeon’s mouth was hanging open in a breathless gasp. “C-Chanyeol—I don’t—“
“You don’t…?” Chanyeol asked, voice muffled by the sound of bass pounding beneath the floorboards.
“I don’t – hic – w-want you to…kiss me,” Junmyeon slurred, hands still shoved into Chanyeol’s chest and clutching fistfuls of his shirt. “My b-boyfriend will be mad.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend,” Chanyeol said curtly, entertainment now gone from his face. “Jongdae told me you’re single.”
“But I do,” Junmyeon whined back at him, face flushed.
“Tell me his name,” Chanyeol replied, face unemotional and voice clipped.
“His name is… Uh…” Junmyeon started, trailing off after a second. What was his boyfriend’s name? Junmyeon could not remember. He remembered soft locks of black hair, very fuzzy details of a face, but… “Hn, I don’t… I don’t remember… But I like him…a lot. I think… I think his name is Yeokbeom? I dunno. But he’ll be mad if you kiss me.”
“You’re so drunk you’re making up. Luckily for you, you’re cute when you’re drunk. Not some sloppy mess.” There was suddenly more force in Chanyeol’s limbs as he swatted Junmyeon’s hands away before shoving him down roughly into the mattress, ignoring Junmyeon’s squeak of confusion and surprise. “Don’t worry. I’ll treat you to something your so-called ‘boyfriend’ hasn’t given you.”
The world was hazy and Junmyeon’s mind was watered down from a gross amount of alcohol. He couldn’t keep up.
“When are you going to introduce me to him?” Chanyeol complained, sprawled on the fraternity house couch next to Jongdae as the two momentarily paused their video game. “He’s so damn cute.”
“One of these days I will. He’s busy a lot and so am I. We’re college kids.” Jongdae shrugged casually before nudging Chanyeol in the ribs with his elbow. “You think he’s your type?”
“I know for a fact he is,” Chanyeol replied immediately. “Is he single?”
One moment Chanyeol was kissing him, biting down on his lower lip, and the next, there were hands yanking on the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards.
“He is, but Junmyeon is ridiculously shy. You should see how red he gets when you so much as ask him about kissing,” Jongdae explained. “So good luck getting him to go out with you. I can introduce you sometime, but that’s about it. You’re on your own otherwise.”
Large fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans, tugging, deftly unfastening the button that adorned them.
“I have my ways, ya know. And charms,” Chanyeol said smugly. “I’ll make him mine before you know it, Jongdae. You have my word for it.”
Even though the air of Chanyeol’s bedroom was hot, Junmyeon couldn’t help but shiver as his pants were suddenly yanked down his legs.
“Chanyeol—Wait, wait,” Junmyeon mumbled, trying his hardest to shove the larger male away. “’M not r-ready—“
“Just trust me, Junmyeon,” Chanyeol told him, fingers digging into his hipbones to hold him down against the bed because Junmyeon wouldn’t stop wiggling. “It’ll feel good. I promise.”
There he was, lying on Chanyeol’s bed, shirt bunched up around his chest and his jeans down around his calves. He was pushing pathetically at Chanyeol’s chest again, speech slurred, his vision blurring uncontrollably because he was far too full of booze to even think straight anymore. Chanyeol was too big and too strong and Junmyeon couldn’t stop thinking about the man whose face he suddenly couldn’t remember anymore, his boyfriend whose name he couldn’t remember anymore, but Junmyeon knew he was going to be unhappy. Unhappy like he was, hiccupping from too much alcohol and crying and kicking pathetically as he told Chanyeol he wasn’t ready yet and—
“Get your goddamn hands off of him!”
The world was moving much too fast and Junmyeon couldn’t keep up. He didn’t remember what had happened. The next thing he knew, there was arguing, loud screams over the bass that still thumped through the floor. Strong hands helping him sit up slowly, aiding him in regaining a bit of his dignity by pulling his pants up for him, ignoring the miracle that Junmyeon was still wearing his underwear. Someone helping him to his feet, and Junmyeon’s kneecaps buckled beneath him. He was so drunk he couldn’t even stand up anymore, instantly staggering sideways and nearly collapsing onto the carpet until two hands wrapped around him and pulled him close.
Through the haze of his mind, Junmyeon recognized the man yelling. He remembered Zitao, Zitao who was currently screaming himself hoarse, holding Chanyeol by the front of his shirt. And he remembered Sehun, who was currently cradling him protectively against his chest. Junmyeon’s legs were shaky beneath him and Sehun’s hands were warm and he watched Chanyeol take a swing at his friend, missing, only for Zitao to an arm back and slug him in a crisp hook.
Junmyeon did not know why, perhaps it was that sudden moment of violence, or perhaps his mouth felt dirty and he couldn’t stop thinking about the silhouette of his boyfriend that was haunting his mind, but he could not stop himself from suddenly bursting into tears.
After falling down the front steps of the fraternity house, neither Sehun or Zitao trusted him enough to let him move on his own. He was curled up beside Sehun on the bottom of the steps, leaning into his frame for support and not bothering to try to hold back the stream of hiccups that was tearing out of his mouth at a rapid pace.
He didn’t feel well all of a sudden.
“Here, I got him a drink,” Zitao said then, stooping down to hand off a cup to Sehun. Thankfully, even though Zitao was drunk, he wasn’t completely gone at this point. Sehun nodded in thanks, accepting his friend’s offering. Zitao then jerked his thumb over one shoulder. “’M gonna finish talking to Jongdae. Watch him. Might be good to call someone too.”
Zitao went back inside then, and Sehun turned his attention back onto Junmyeon. The smaller boy was curled up beside him, burrowed into Sehun’s body, head tucked beneath his friend’s chin. Sehun reached down to rub a hand down his back to get his attention. “Hey. Sit up, you need to drink this.”
“Nooo,” Junmyeon moaned pathetically back at him. “I don’t – hic – want any more b-beer.”
“It’s not beer, Junmyeon. The last thing on the planet I’d give you right now is beer. You’re already so drunk you can’t even stand up,” Sehun replied, eyebrows furrowing as he managed to pry Junmyeon off of him with his free hand. “It’s water. You need to drink some.”
Junmyeon couldn’t even drink by himself. Sehun had tried to hand him the cup of water, and thankfully he hadn’t let go when he thought Junmyeon had a grip on it, because Junmyeon would have dropped it. Sehun would up sitting there and helping Junmyeon drink, much like one would do with an infant, keeping one hand resting on the back of Junmyeon’s neck to support his head.
This definitely wasn’t good.
“Do you have your phone? Or did you lose it?” Sehun asked as he lowered the cup so that Junmyeon could breathe. “Mine died. If you have yours, let me see it. I can call Yixing to come get you. Hopefully he’s still awake. I know Jongin is sleeping already.”
The best option was for him and Zitao to take Junmyeon home, but Sehun was the only sober one. He already had to keep an eye on a drunk Zitao and a completely wasted Junmyeon wouldn’t help matters any. Sehun wasn’t sure if he could watch them both at once. Besides, Junmyeon needed to get home now. And Zitao definitely wasn’t leaving any time soon. As soon as the two of them had managed to get the bedroom door open, which had by some miracle been unlocked, things had gone downhill. While Sehun focused on taking care of Junmyeon the best he could, Zitao had flown off the handle. He had already socked the guy in the face once and was still inside, arguing with both him and Jongdae.
Sehun already knew this wasn’t going to end well, and the last thing he wanted was to leave Zitao alone and get into more trouble.
Thankfully, Junmyeon seemed to understand, and began to pat himself down in search of his phone. His phone was still tucked away in his back pocket where it had been all evening, and through amazing odds, Junmyeon hadn’t cracked it from sitting on it. Sehun let Junmyeon rest against him, listening to the boy moan pathetically and complain he didn’t feel well. After taking a moment to rub his back, Sehun focused his attention on Junmyeon’s phone. He didn’t know the password to gain access, but he could see the smudges of repetitive fingerprints along certain parts of the screen. It was a tedious guessing game, but at long last, Sehun managed to unlock Junmyeon’s phone.
And he was instantly bombarded by an ocean of notifications.
Three phone calls and eight text messages. Sehun’s eyes were wide with surprise and, curiosity getting the best of him, Sehun tapped on the phone icon first to check the call logs. Sehun did not recognize the phone number, but he did recognize the name stored in Junmyeon’s phone to accompany it.
Missed Call (9:49 PM) → ♥ Yifan ♥
Missed Call (11:27 PM) → ♥ Yifan ♥
Missed Call (12:47 AM) → ♥ Yifan ♥
Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Sehun fumbled with the keys and opened the text messages.
Yifan (9:32 PM)
Sooo… I have an idea for this weekend ;)
Yifan (9:40 PM)
You’ll have to text me back soon I can’t wait
to tell you about it. I’ll be nice and give you
advanced notice this time. You’ll like it.
Yifan (10:02 PM)
I thought you had your phone on vibrate again and
didn’t hear me so I tried to call you. Sorry if you’re
busy I’m not trying to be annoying.
At least not right now.
I can whine later when you reply that you’re ignoring me.
Yifan (10:45 PM)
You never go this long without replying, even when you have class.
Did I do something to upset you?
Yifan (11:37 PM)
Junmyeon please text me or call me back.
I’m getting worried.
Yifan (11:52 PM)
I really hope you’re just sleeping.
You’re making me nervous.
You always say good night to me.
Yifan (12:00 AM)
Text me back when you get up so I know you’re okay.
Yifan (12:56 AM)
I’m still up and will be for a while if you see these.
Be safe, okay? I’m really worried about you.
Sehun’s mind was reeling. It all suddenly made sense: why Junmyeon had been so secretive, why Junmyeon never gossiped about Yifan, why Junmyeon was always hanging out in the art building outside of class. Sehun couldn’t believe his eyes, even when he went to the home screen and was greeted by a wallpaper of Yifan and Junmyeon standing in an ocean of penguin statues and doing cheesy peace signs together.
Junmyeon and Yifan were dating.
Thankfully, Junmyeon didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, eyes closed as he continued leaning against Sehun. Trying to ignore everything he had just seen, Sehun went back into the phone logs and typed in Yixing’s number. After a few moments of ringing, the call went to voicemail. Yixing must have been asleep too. Sehun cast a brief glance down at Junmyeon, knowing he needed to get the boy out of here soon, before casting a glance down at the phone.
Uncertain of the consequences of what he was about to do, Sehun in a deep breath and pressed the call button.
Calling → ♥ Yifan ♥
After the fourth ring, there was a click on the other end of the line, and Sehun’s heart was residing in his throat. He had heard many things about Yifan, but he had never met the man, or even heard his voice. Yifan had so many bad rumors and stories floating around on campus about him, and Junmyeon was dating him.
It felt like he was dreaming.
“Hello?” The man’s voice was deep and groggy from sleep. “Junmyeon? What the hell is the matter with you? I worried myself sick over you and now that I just barely managed to fall asleep, you call and wake me up? You could’ve called me sooner!”
Sehun gulped, clutching the phone for dear life as Yifan ranted. At long last, when Yifan took a breath, Sehun managed to speak. “Um. Is this Kris?”
“Excuse me?” Yifan snapped, sounding a little more awake all of a sudden. “Who the is this?”
“I’m Sehun. Junmyeon is my roommate,” Sehun explained, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but we’re in a bad spot at the moment and I wasn’t sure who else to call—“
“Let me talk to Junmyeon,” Yifan interrupted, obviously not in the mood.
“He’s…” Sehun started, glancing down to find Junmyeon with his face burrowed under Sehun’s arm, nose pressed against his ribcage and breathing labored. “He’s why I called you. There was a party and Junmyeon’s been drinking. He’s really bad off right now.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re at a party and Junmyeon is faced,” Yifan began slowly, “and now you’re calling me because you want me to come get him? Look, here’s my question. Why was no one watching him? You? Your friends? No one bothered to check up on him, and now he’s so drunk he needs someone to pick him up?”
“Don’t even try to feed me some bull excuse, I’m not an idiot. I don’t care whose idea it was to bring him, and I don’t care who the last person was to see him. The point here is that if you’re friends, then the least you could do is keep an eye on the kid who has never even gone ing drinking before!” Yifan shouted, temper spiking. “Do you have any idea of what could have happened to him tonight? I don’t even know you and you make me nauseated. I damn well hope you nor your buddies call Junmyeon your friend. Now look. If you want me to come get him, you have to at least meet me somewhere, preferably halfway. I can’t exactly stroll up to some campus party and take a kid back with me.”
Giving Yifan a location for them to meet was the easy part. Taking the insults and yelling from Yifan also wasn’t that difficult. But hanging up the phone, and looking down at Junmyeon, that was the hard part. Junmyeon, who was so drunk he struggled to help him to his feet. Junmyeon, who was crying and telling Sehun to make his stomach stop hurting. Junmyeon, who had nearly lost his ity tonight in the worst of ways.
He knew Junmyeon felt sick, but right then, so did Sehun.
Story #11: One time this guy in my gen zoology class, who was rly strange, came in late. Like, busted through the door and interrupted lecture. My professor was pissed. And the guy comes in and is like LOOK WHAT I FOUND OUTSIDE. The dude came in with a big plastic container. And it had a baby squirrel in it. My professor is like WHY DID U PICK IT UP U SHOULD HAVE LEFT IT WHERE U FOUND IT. So all of lecture we had a plastic tub sitting on the front table and the squirrel kept squeaking and interrupting my prof every 5 seconds and we wound up getting out of class early so that my professor could go put the squirrel back in the tree. What a mess.
A/N: i'm still yelling over this just dye his hair black and it's 100% yf from this au. wheezes.