“I’m at this place-”

You hear Minho laugh breathlessly on the other line, which was what he’d been doing the entire span of this sudden phone call. It was late, and anyone sounding as happy as he was at this time of night, was either sleep laughing or drunk or both.

“Minho, you need to tell me where-”

“Trees! I see trees and oh, a cat-”

“Minho… I still don’t know where you are.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? I just told you, silly.”

Oh my god.

You let out a sigh, anxious, because it seemed like he was outside with no one around except for some random street cat, apparently.

“Listen, sit down. I need you to sit down.”

“Why?”

So you don’t get run over that’s why.

You knew how fidgety he could get when he’s sober, let alone when he’s drunk. There was no telling where he was, and seeing how useless he was being, you were horrified.

“Where the hell did you go?”  Someone yelled from a distance, Seungyoon?

“ing hell, Minho.” Yep, Seungyoon.

“Hello? Hello!” You cry out from the other end, hard enough to catch Seungyoon’s attention.

“Yes, who is this?” Seungyoon huffs, you catch Minho slur out your name on the other end, “Oh, he called you?” 

“Where is he, Yoon?”

~

“Hey- hey!” Minho yells as the two of you barely got to the front door. You cringe away, praying silently that your eardrums were still working.

“Hold on, let me find the keys.” Internally agreeing to yourself that this was quite possibly the hardest thing you ever had to do. Lets not forget the fact that the contents of your bag just decided to casually pour out onto the floor.

“The floor is spinning, let me try-” Minho drops to his knees, and you stood there, perplexed as you witnessed how this grown man was fumbling around trying to stop the ground from ing spinning. 

“Minho…” You whisper, kneeling down next him, “You’re. Drunk.” Taking his face into your hands.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes rimmed red and you wonder what bothered him to be this intoxicated. He handled alcohol pretty well, so you had a pretty rough idea how much he had tonight.

“I am so not. Look I can stand perfectly on my own.” He straightens himself up, hands by his side. He was standing alright, on his knees.

“Sure you can.” You chortle, gathering your things, including Minho, as you got up to open the door.

He clings onto you as the two of you wobbled into the apartment. You were struggling so hard to not fall flat on your face and his, as his weight took you off balance. At least you’re getting one hell of a decent workout out of this.

“You know what? This feels heavy.” Minho groans out, and for someone this drunk, he sure still had some sense in that head of his.

“This phone feels heavy. I need to throw it away.”

Okay, maybe not.

Being with Minho was all sorts of entertaining, but this was a whole another level. You were left stupefied as your eyes followed him towards the kitchen, seeing him open up the fridge to place his phone in.

What am I suppose to do with you?

~

You somehow managed to tow Minho into the bedroom after he persisted to sleep on the floor instead. He beams at you with not a worry in the world as you slip his shoes off, heaving his legs onto the bed.

“You’re really, really pretty. Has anyone ever told you that?” He glances at you, and for a moment he seemed like he was sober. Even when he’s got his head else where, he still looks at you the way he does.

“Hm. My boyfriend does.” A coy smile on your face.

“You have a boyfriend?” He gasps, pushing you away with a sloppy nudge by the shoulder. “No, no. I told you I’ll sleep on the floor.”

He was being frustratingly difficult, yet so endearing at the same time. So you laid next to him, on the floor, which he’d been so obsessed with tonight.

“I have a girlfriend too.” He mumbles, putting his arm out to mark a safe distance between you and him. “She looks a lot like you, I think.”

“I think so too.” You laughed quietly, wanting so much to hold him.

“But you’re prettier, don’t tell her that.” He sure still had his ways with you. And you tried so hard to not swallow him up into a hug, afraid that he might tell you off for touching him, or cry, at this rate you didn’t know really. Minho reeks of alcohol, and so does his words. 

He drifts off to sleep, and not long after, he unconsciously shifted towards you, nuzzling his head into the curve of your neck.