Jongin can hardly walk straight. His legs feel like freshly set jelly and his arms are springing out all over the place, thwacking against anything and everything he passes. The path extending out in front of him blurs together as his eyes cross over, glazing with the fogginess of alcohol. There is sweat prickling his nape, gluing thick strands to his forehead and dripping down his back to leave a squiggling line over his shirt. Even his feet seem to be sticky, toes curling with discomfort.

Kyungsoo is no better. In fact, his condition may even be considerably worse. He has lost his mind, all sanity within him evaporating as he runs towards plants and speaks to them as though they will respond. When twigs scratch his skin or leaves float down from their place, a few tears slip down his cheeks and he mourns for them, before darting off towards the next victim.

There is a large cherry blossom tree, its branches bare of gorgeous pink petals and its roots slowly decomposing, the dirt around its base dishevelled. It might be daunting in the darkness, its height casting eerie shadows across the pavement, but Kyungsoo takes an immediate liking to it. He dawdles over and places his palm against its aging trunk, dragging his fingers down until there are sharp bits of bark stuck under his nails. The surface blisters his delicate hands, but he continues to trace the unique patterns, memorising them and admiring them. He does this for quite some time and Jongin simply watches on, mesmerised by the sight of Kyungsoo in such reverence of something so uncomplicated.

As the temperature drops and the night settles in, Kyungsoo gradually returns to his old self and plonks onto the ground, fingers fiddling with weeping weeds. His brows knit together as though he is deep in thought, so Jongin paces over and joins him on the ground, sitting cross-legged and trying desperately not to topple over. He gazes at Kyungsoo’s features, the way he purses his lips and scrunches his nose, the way he is hunched over enough that his jumper is slipping away and exposing deep collarbones. And he thinks that this man, this assertive man with all intentions of rebelling against anyone who dares to oppress the philosophies he believes in, is so damn beautiful.

Kyungsoo senses that Jongin’s eyes are on him and peers up, his expression loosening. ‘It’s so ing inspiring when a weed pushes through a crack in the concrete,’ he whispers, plucking the weed and twirling it between his fingertips, ‘I hope I can be this brave one day.’

‘I think you already are,’ Jongin responds in a hush, edging closer.

‘No, I absolutely am not.’

‘Well then, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, you must adopt the pace of nature. Her secret is patience.’

Kyungsoo gasps. ‘Did you just use one of my favourite poets against me?

‘No, I didn’t use him against you,’ Jongin claims, crossing his arms like a stubborn child, ‘I was using him to stimulate you.’

They chuckle at one another, until Jongin flails backwards and whacks his head on the gutter. He doesn’t think he is bleeding and the alcohol has numbed him so severely that it doesn’t really hurt, but his vision is leaving him and he can’t be bothered to fight against the darkness trying to eat away at his consciousness. Kyungsoo appears very vaguely in his line of sight, seemingly straddling his hips and shaking him gently.

‘I’m tired. I want to sleep,’ Jongin mutters, swatting him away.

Kyungsoo grumbles and thumps a fist against Jongin’s broad chest. ‘But the world is big and I want to take a look at it before it gets dark!’

‘John Muir quotes don’t work when it’s already dark!’

‘It may be dark literally, Jongin, but we can still explore the world before it all goes to ,’ Kyungsoo reasons, bucking his hips, ‘and trust me, it will most certainly go to .’

‘It already has. This world isn’t any good anymore.’

‘Let’s make it better then.’

Jongin rakes fingers through his hair and rests on his elbow. ‘How would we do that?’

‘Our philosophies combined could save an entire nation!’

‘Kyungsoo, you’re so drunk,’ Jongin says, giggling.

The older male tries to protest, but the alcohol has deeply buried itself into his brain and after a few seconds, he falls asleep on top of a squirming Jongin.

The two stumble towards the campus as the sun starts to journey higher into the sky, trying to remain as quiet as possible so as to avoid detection by the strict security guards marching around the campus outskirts. Jongin has his hand clamped over his mouth because he can’t stop laughing and Kyungsoo’s cheeks are cutely puffed out as he attempts to contain his desire to shout exerts from banned texts at the top of his lungs. They trip frequently, scuffing their skin, but they stifle their groans and push on.

Jongin has to assist Kyungsoo up the stairs, palms squished up against his taut bottom to push his woozy body upwards. He stumbles occasionally and topples onto his back, and Kyungsoo follows close behind, his legs too unsteady to carry the rest of him. Every few steps one of them scratches the paint on the extensive walls or rattles the untrustworthy railing. Kyungsoo laughs at the cream colour that has rubbed off on his fingers and Jongin groans, pushing him from behind with what little strength he still has.

It is strange that Jongin has never thought to ask where Kyungsoo’s dorm is, but now is not the time to do so. Kyungsoo’s skin is chilled and his nose is running speedily, so Jongin knows he needs to get him inside and warmed up as hastily as possible. He scoops the smaller male up into his arms, knees knocking together and arms trembling under the weight. His room is so close, just a few mere paces to the right and yet every single step he takes grows more difficult.

He is so unbelievably thankful when he reaches his bed and is so incredibly exhausted that, without bothering to change or even take his dirty shoes off, he collapses onto the mattress and pulls Kyungsoo in beside him. This position is relaxing and it feels as though their figures fit together perfectly, so perfectly that the one square centimetre of Jongin’s mind that is not intoxicated is squealing with joy. His heart is too, pounding so loudly that he fears it might startle Kyungsoo from the sleep he has quickly slipped into.

Despite such comfort and fatigue, Jongin finds that sleep is evading him, leaving his mind to wander. There is a shadow stretching across the wall and he stares at it with wide eyes until he realises that it nothing more than his tall, golden lamp playing tricks on him. A creaking sound prickles his ears and his thoughts immediately revolve around the belief of someone breaking into his room, but minutes pass and nobody enters. It is just the wind rattling his poorly hinged door and smacking against the loose pane of glass in his window. Every once in a while there are heavy footsteps. Jongin grips onto Kyungsoo when they halt right outside his room, the sound dampening. But, there is no reason to be frightened, because the person strolls away and Kyungsoo reaches for Jongin’s hand, giving it a ti