He’s not the type to drink, which is probably why he’s seated at the end of the table, looking over the rest of s with an exasperated gaze. They’re a mess, and he’s reminded of the reason why he didn’t exactly want to go drinking with them in the first place.

“Hyung!” He sighs as Jongwoon’s head falls onto his shoulder for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Almost like a regular routine, he sits his junior of one year upright, carefully removing the glass of alcohol from in front of him. “Enough for you to drink for tonight,” he scolds lightly.

He looks across the table at the manager with a weary look. He should have gotten the other managers to come along, too – now he has to deal with this whole mess. “I think it’s about time we get them home,” he murmurs quietly to the manager, who nods helplessly in agreement.

Next to the manager is a rather drunken Hyukjae, who apparently got clingy when drunk; he hugs Donghae’s arm tight and refuses to let go, while the only other member who wasn’t completely drunk just sat there in defeat. “Donghae-ah, can you take Hyukjae home?” he calls to the younger, who nods. He still has his senses about him, although his face is already flushed red from the one glass of alcohol that he drank earlier.

His gaze trails to the man seated next to Donghae; a person of undeniable beauty, even with his eyes glassed over and face flushed a rosy pink from the alcohol. His lips cup around the glass as he finishes off yet another glass. “Heechul-ah.” The man glances towards him, and their eyes meet – one clear and sensible, the other misted over. He shifts, feeling an indescribable ache within him blossom. Damn it. He knows full well of his own feelings towards the man, and somehow, he still finds this drunken mess beautiful. Not now. “Stop drinking.”

He’s grateful when Donghae pulls the alcohol out of Heechul’s reach, even though it earns the younger an annoyed hit from his hyung. “Manager-hyung, can you get Donghee and Heechul home? I’ll bring Jongwoon home,” he says, eyeing the man who has now opted to cling to him in a drunken haze.

The manager nods, standing from his seat. Donghae, too, gets up, dragging Hyukjae with him, who is too drunk to care about where he’s going. Donghee complies, following the manager, and Jongwoon is more than happy to go along with him.

Meanwhile, Heechul glares at the manager, who can’t hide a small flinch. “Piss off,” he mutters. The manager glances uncertainly at him, not sure what to do with the irritable member.

“We have to go home, Heechul-ah,” he sighs. “You can’t stay out here.”

“Go away, Jungsoo,” Heechul responds.

He looks at the manager, and he’s pretty sure both of them are sharing a similar gaze of resignation. “I’ll take Heechul and Jongwoon home, you take Donghee home.”

The manager nods with an expression akin to gratitude, escorting the stumbling member to a car waiting outside. Jungsoo watches as Donghae shoves Hyukjae into a hired taxi before getting in after him.

He successfully manages to hail a taxi, deciding on going to drop Jongwoon off first – he lives in the same apartment complex as Heechul, with Jongwoon living just a little further from them, but he figured that he could drop Jongwoon off then walk back to his own apartment.

He didn’t really put much thought into walking back to his own apartment with Heechul, and in retrospect, he probably should have.

The drive is mostly uninterrupted, thank goodness, aside from Heechul’s occasional mumbles or Jongwoon’s clinginess. He couldn’t be gladder when the taxi driver halts outside a familiar apartment building; thanking him, he gets Jongwoon out of the taxi first before dragging Heechul along with him.

Luckily for him, Jongwoon isn’t completely and utterly drunk – at least sober enough to take the lift up to the correct level and key in his passcode. He stumbles into his apartment, wavering between his bathroom and his bedroom before finally half-falling into his bathroom and throwing up.

He sighs, waiting for Jongwoon to emerge from the bathroom. He’s seen the members drunk plenty of times before, and if he knows anything, he’s pretty sure Jongwoon will choose the closest comfortable object to pass out on.

“When are we going home?” He stiffens as a pair of arms wrap around his back. He can feel Heechul pressing against again him, his warm breath uncomfortably close to the back of his ear. He tries to prevent a wave of scarlet from rushing across his cheeks as Heechul bends his face closer, to the point that he can smell the alcohol radiating from his breath all-too-clearly.

There’s a loud noise as Jongwoon hits his foot on the door while coming out of the bathroom, resulting in a series of curses that all the members have heard many times before. Sure enough, he glances towards his bedroom but opts for his couch which is decidedly closer to him; flinging his body down onto the relatively comfortable surface, he’s asleep in seconds.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, he reaches towards the pair of arms around his waist to untangle them, ready to head home. “Let’s go home, Heechul.” Thankfully, he manages to get the man’s arms away from his waist, although the unpredictable diva curls his fingers around his own with some form of insistence; an action that brings another blush to his cheeks.

He manages to drag Heechul out of the house, closing Jongwoon’s door with a soft click behind them. “Let’s go.”

It only hits him when he’s trying to return home, and Heechul’s breath trickles over his skin again. Here he is, walking slowly at two in the morning on a deserted street, with someone standing up half-straight, stumbling along while leaning against his shoulder.

This might take a while.

He considers it a miracle, but somehow he soon manages to pick out the familiar environment; by now, Heechul is a tiny bit more sober, and has stopped whining about random nonsense, half-walking and half-stumbling; in this atmosphere, it almost allows him to enjoy the silence that the early morning before dawn brings – that is, if not for the fact that Heechul is perpetually pressed against his shoulder in an alcohol-induced daze.

When he finally reaches the doorstep of Heechul’s apartment, he’s so relieved he almost wants to run to his bed and fall asleep and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. He turns to the man next to him, who gazes back at him with an unreadable expression. “We’re at your house, key in your passcode,” he prompts.

There’s a tug, and he looks down, eyes widening a little as he realizes that Heechul’s fingers are still laced with his. “I don’t want to,” Heechul protests, almost a little childishly.

He sighs. “Heechul-ah, if you don’t you won’t have anywhere to go.”

Heechul’s tone drops all of a sudden, almost turning into a part-conspiring, part-teasing whisper. “I want to stay with you.”

He forces himself to think little of it, since the cat-like member is like this sometimes – in the past, he used to receive texts that Heechul had decided to crash in the 11^th floor dorms instead, or sometimes he would come home to see Heechul curled up next to Donghae in his room. It was just a thing that the member tended to do when drunk.

“Fine, let’s go.” He gives up without bothering to fight, pulling Heechul along with him to his own apartment. He keys in his passcode and swings the door open; Heechul’s fingers leave his grasp as the man stumbles into the house.

He heads straight for the shower, cleansing himself of the stench of alcohol that has been hanging off him; he figures that Heechul is trustworthy enough to leave alone, considering that the man had never done anything stupid when drunk compared to the other members.

He enjoys the sensation of the warm water running down his exposed body, his muscles finally relaxing after a busy day. Drinking with the rest of the members was supposed to be the relaxing activity to end the day, but apparently not so much for him, being unceremoniously appointed an for the drunken members.

Not to mention Heechul is currently in his house.

He doesn’t bother to wear a shirt, since he’s about to go to sleep anyway; he throws on some shorts and puts his towel around his neck as water drips from the strands of his hair. Heechul has already seen everything, anyway – he chuckles lightly as he remembers the games they used to play back at the dorm, blushing a little as he remembers all of them standing there wearing absolutely nothing, while Heechul only eyed them with a raised eyebrow; he had always been the more secretive one, refusing to reveal his body to others.

He steps out of the shower, heading straight towards his bedroom, freezing at the sight in front of him. Heechul’s long pants are strewn on the floor, leaving him in his boxer shorts and shirt, casually lying across his pure white bed covers as if it was his own house.

“Heechul?”

“What?” the man murmurs, his eyes half closing. “I want to sleep.”

“Why on my bed?”

He glares up, with an almost-offended gaze. “Do you expect me to sleep on the floor?”

He just sighs, already knowing that there’s little use in attempting to convince him. “Okay, fine.” Shaking his head, he grabs an extra pillow off the bed and heads towards the couch.

“Jungsoo-yah.”

He hears his name being called and turns back to see Heechul sitting up right on his bed. The curtains are still drawn, with pale 3am moonlight filtering gently through the glass window. The beams hit Heechul’s silhouette, making him look more ethereal than he already is.

He doesn’t know if it’s the moonlight or the alcohol, but as he meets Heechul’s gaze, the man 9 days his junior’s eyes have a glossy, reflective feel; then he tilts his head slightly, and he smiles lightly.

He feels a familiar urge creep over his senses as he stares at the man of beauty sitting in front of him. He’s never been the type to like men, no – he’s been in numerous relationships before, some short-term and some long-term, but never with a man before. He’d never even considered the possibility before, not until one day when he looked at this man and the only word he could come up with was beautiful.

He’s never been the type to like men, never. And yet, as the moon caresses Kim Heechul’s already-pale cheek in its benevolent light, his eyes glassy and lips parted ever-so-slightly, a pinkish bloom across his cheeks in that intoxicating manner of his, Park Jungsoo feels his sense of logic and care crash down around him; he feels Heechul breaking down the four walls that he had so painstakingly built up, he feels the urge swell within his heart, a strong mixture of both love and lust.

He stumbles, almost in a daze, to the man who sits there calmly, silently. Somehow, he feels like he’s the one drunk; he sits across from Heechul, their faces so close that he can smell the hard liquor with every breath that Heechul breathes, his heartbeat so loud in the silence of the room he wonders if Heechul can hear it.

Heechul’s lips part a little further, the redness in his cheeks deepening a little further because of the close proximity. “Jungsoo-yah,” he whispers, a breathy murmur treacherously close to his skin.

“Heechul,” he tries to say, but his voice fails him and the name escapes his lips in some form of a breath and a whine, desperately in need of his attention.

He doesn’t know what drives him to it. Maybe it’s the look in Heechul’s eyes, the foggy gaze that makes it seem like the man is half there and half isn’t that compels him to; maybe it’s the way Heechul’s lips part just a little, almost as if tempting him to come and kiss them shut; maybe it’s the way he smells the heavy stench of alcohol with every breath he takes that numbs his senses too; maybe it’s the way Heechul’s breath is so warm and so dangerously close to his neck that it drives him insane. Or maybe it’s all of them.

He leans forward, letting his eyes flutter shut; his fingers cup Heechul’s chin by instinct, pulling the man closer to him, so close that he can practically taste the alcohol already. Their silhouettes tangle together with only the moon as their witness as he leans in, kissing Heechul hard just like he wanted to for a long time now.

Heechul reacts instantly, parting his mouth obediently before pushing his tongue in deep in a battle for dominance as retaliation. He feels a shiver run down his spine as Heechul moves his hand up, entangling his fingers in his dyed hair. He can taste the alcohol strongly as both of them lean into the kiss; keeping his eyes closed, he doesn’t protest, drinking in every moment of it.

His hand finds its way to the back of Heechul’s neck instinctively, keeping him close as both of them part, gasping for air. His gaze meets with Heechul’s, his cheeks flushed. He can’t prevent the gasp that leaves his mouth as Heechul bends, nipping at his neck with a force that he’s sure will leave red marks in the morning.

He’s powerless, his mind turned to jelly and limbs refusing to work – aside from the hand that keeps a firm grip on Heechul – as Heechul smirks devilishly at him, letting one hand run down his exposed upper body, a cat-like tongue swiping at the corner of his lips.

He moves his head so that he can capture Heechul’s lips in a kiss again, the man accepting it willingly, his nails digging into Jungsoo’s back, leaving the skin littered with small half-moon marks. They’re a mess of limbs, captured in their moment of – what was it, really? – love, or lust, or who knows; their lips pressed tightly to one another, tongues in a never-ending dance.

And then, they stop.

Heechul opens his eyes, freezing.

So, he opens his eyes too, only to meet with Heechul’s – wide and confused and uncertain. The glassy look is gone, and so is the fiery red that used to coat his cheeks.

“Stop,” Heechul whispers. “Jungsoo, stop.”

He feels himself being pushed back, and can only watch as Heechul scrambles backwards too. And he can do nothing but stay rooted in that position, his gaze trembling and breathing unsteady. He’s unable to prevent the wave of guilt that crashes over him, his thoughts a mess in his head.

What had he done? Heechul had clearly been drunk, and he had allowed his personal feelings to take over.

Why?

The tension is stifling; it feels like an invisible hand, wrapping its ghostly fingers around his throat and choking him. “I’m sorry,” he forces out; and then the only thing he can do is flee from his room, closing the door behind him, feeling Heechul’s gaze burning into his back.

I screwed up.