Imagine your OTP going to a party and Person A gets drunk. After Person B drags the drunken Person A home, Person A drunkenly admits their feelings/love for Person B and won't shut up about how much they love them, despite how embarrassed and flustered Person B is getting.

I really like how this one came out. It took me a while (no surprise there), but I'm rather pleased with this. I'm also happy that I came up with a title by myself; there was no song muse whatsoever. Again, I really only followed the first part of the prompt. There isn't much gushing or embarassment or flustered...ness.

Hoya drops Sungjong's limp body onto the bed before collapsing next to him. After dragging his friend's drunken dead weight up eight flights of stairs (because life doesn't like to make things easy by having a working elevator) he's going to need a minute to catch his breath. From his sprawled position he takes in his surroundings. Although he's been in Sungjong's apartment before, this is his first time being in his room.

It's a bit small with just enough room for the bed, a dresser, a night stand, and a little desk. The light from the hallway spills in through the open door, illuminating only some of the room since Hoya hadn't bothered with the lamp on the night stand when he first came in. Everything is simple and organized. But he wouldn't have expected anything else from Sungjong. Of course he hasn't known the younger boy as long as Sungyeol has (they are best friends after all), but Sungjong is always so forthcoming about himself that Hoya thinks the two of them are almost that close.

Sungjong shifting next to him reminds him that he had only laid on the bed to recover from the trek upstairs. When he looks over he sees the other curling up into a ball with a dreamy smile on his face.

"Thanks, Dongwoo," Sungjong says with his eyes closed. "For bringing me home." It all comes out in a mumble that Hoya would have had trouble deciphering if the room wasn't already silent.

He can't really blame Sungjong for mistaking him for Dongwoo. If Hoya hadn't volunteered, the other would have happily taken responsibility for Sungjong. "It's Hoya, actually," Hoya informs him with a laugh.

Sungjong's eyes slowly blink open and he squints at the older guy in the half-light. Once realization hits, his eyes fall shut again. As if he's too tired to put in the effort to keep them open.

"Hi, Hoya," he practically sighs as the dreamy smile takes over his face again.

"Hi, Sungjong."

Sungjong shifts again, inching closer to where Hoya lies in the middle of the bed, and looks over at him through half-lidded eyes. "This must be a relief, huh?" Hoya stays silent, only turning his head to catch the other's gaze. "That I'm such a lazy drunk," Sungjong clarifies. "So you don't have to worry about me causing trouble or passing out in the middle of the street."

"Or throwing up all over me," Hoya adds, cringing slightly at the thought. Sungjong's laugh is soft, full of breath. It brings a small smile to Hoya's face. He's always liked the sound of the other's laugh. The way it's light and gentle; adjectives he wouldn't normally associate with Sungjong after getting to know him, but they seem to fit perfectly.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Sungjong's voice pulls Hoya out of his thoughts. He looks up from studying the curve of the other's mouth to his eyes. In the dimness of the room it's hard to tell how drunk Sungjong might still be. He meets Hoya's gaze evenly, albeit still with drowsy eyes.

Despite his overwhelming curiosity, Hoya doesn't want Sungjong to say anything he might regret when his inhibitions aren't so low. "Is that something you want to do while drunk?"

"I don't think I'd say it at any other time," Sungjong answers, inching just a bit closer. Close enough that Hoya can see the way his eyes shift, looking at Hoya's face but not his eyes, as if he's nervous. Before Hoya can question his judgement (and maybe change his mind), Sungjong continues. His voice is soft yet firm, the words spilling out almost on their own.

"I like you. A lot. As more than a friend. It's really cliché and cheesy, but I like everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, your voice, the way you listen to everything I have to say even when it's not anything important, your teeth and arms that give me inappropriate thoughts. You give me butterflies and heart palpitations and all of that other sappy shojo manhwa that Myungsoo likes so much. It's terrible, really."

Although he's shocked by the sudden confession, Hoya can't help the laugh that bubbles up and comes out as a snort. Because that has to be the most articulate speech he's ever heard from a drunk person. (And he might be a bit embarrassed by the list of things Sungjong likes about him.) For the first time that night he's grateful for the darkness in the room. It effectively hides the blush he can feel burning up his cheeks.

Sungjong smiles back at him, pleased for some reason, and inches closer still. Feeling a cramp in his neck from his awkward position, Hoya turns onto his side. He uses one hand as a pillow while laying the other one in what little space there is between the two of them.

"So..." Sungjong holds the word out a couple extra syllables, his tone playful. He ghosts a hand over the one Hoya has resting on the bed. Hoya doesn't think he's imagining the little spark of electricity he feels when Sungjong's warm fingers pass across his own.

"So," He mimics Sungjong's tone. He has an idea of what Sungjong's trying to ask, but he doesn't want to give in so easily. Although, he has to admit it's not like he has anything to lose by telling Sungjong how he feels. If anything it'll only make things better. "Was there more?" He lets out a soft laugh at the uncharacteristic pout on his friend's face. Sungjong is definitely a cute drunk, Hoya thinks.

"Isn't there something you want to tell me?"

There are a lot of things Hoya wants to tell him. He could go on and on about all of the things he likes about Sungjong. About all of the reasons why Lee Sungjong is the most flawless person in existence. About how far gone he is for the wonderful and gorgeous guy across from him. But the most important thing he wants to tell him is that he feels exactly the same way about Sungjong as the other feels about him. And it's such a relief that they're on the same page.

Just as the words are about to come tumbling out of his mouth the sound of light snoring interrupts him. When he brings his focus back to Sungjong he sees that the other is fast asleep, his mouth parted slightly. He could be upset that he just lost his chance to confess, but he'd rather spend his energy watching the peaceful look on Sungjong's face. So he does.

He only starts to wonder about the time when his eyelids begin to feel like they've gotten heavier. Instead of letting himself drift off and running the risk of surprising his hungover and possibly memoryless friend in the morning, Hoya rubs the sleep out of his eyes and drags himself off the bed. Before he leaves he takes a Post-It from Sungjong's desk and writes a note for the other to read when he wakes up. It reads: You snore like a foghorn. He sticks it onto the younger man's forehead with a satisfied smile on his face. He goes down the eight flights of stairs laughing to himself as he imagines the affronted shriek that's sure to come from Sungjong once he sees the note.