Title: you're not there. (you're not real)
Warning(s): angst. spoiler?? -> post-character death.
Inspiration: none tbh..??? i don't drink but drinking i guess??
Summary: Youjin has had too many drinks - but he doesn't forget.

Youjin doesn't know how many bottles he's drunk, but the world around him is swirling. His head is heavy, his body heavier. His eyelids threaten to close, to close forever, but he reaches again for more soju.

"Stop drinking."

With his fingers wrapped around the bottle's neck, Youjin does as the voice tells him. He doesn't dare to move, because he knows that voice. The voice he had grown to love. The voice he loved. The voice he still did. Youjin drags his gaze from the grungy label of the soju, up across the table. Wide eyes are narrowed, plush lips set into a thin line. But Youjin breaks into a smile.

"Inseong-ah," Youjin drawls out, slurs, and a giggle escapes from him, but he can't find it in himself to care. "Inseong, you're here."

Inseong rests an elbow against the plastic surface, places his chin on the heel of his palm, fingers curled against his cheek. And the tension seeps from his face as he stares back at Youjin.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Inseong questions, as if it had never crossed his mind.

Youjin releases the bottle, stretches his arm toward Inseong. He tries to grab onto the other, but then he jerks to a stop barely centimetres from Inseong's forearm. His smile falters, just a little, as he curls his fingers, balls his hand into a fist. He doesn't answer Inseong.

"Let's get you home," Inseong exclaims suddenly, pushing himself up to his feet.

Youjin nods and follows in suit, the stool scratching against the concrete below loudly as he stands.

The door beeps open, and Youjin stumbles into the corridor, pressing against the side to allow the younger in. He waits for Inseong to toe off his shoes, before Youjin is leading him in and through the living room, shuffling over to his bedroom.

"You faced them down," he hears Inseong say behind him. "Our pictures."

Youjin pulls at the tie about his neck, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt. Then he flops onto the soft matress, head barely laying against his pillow. He doesn't answer Inseong; he has nothing to say.

Then Inseong is jumping into the bed next to him, face right up to Youjin's own. His smile is bright, just as Youjin remembers. His eyes, filled with adoration. And they spend minutes like that, listening to the city below them, the sound of breathing.

"Go to bed, Youjin-hyung," Inseong finally says. "You need sleep."

Youjin shakes his head, opens his eyes wider in an act of rebellion. But the lids protest, getting heavier instead. Youjin gulps difficultly, and his throat, his chest swells with pain. He has to dig his nails into his palms to stop himself from reaching out. He has to wrap his arms about his body to stop himself from embracing Inseong.

Then Inseong begins to sing. He sings their song, with the heavenly voice of his. And to Youjin's dismay, he begins to relax. He sinks into the soft bed, falls into the arms of sleep. And before sleep could claim him for the night, Youjin manages to whisper three words.

"Don't leave me."

I love you.

Inseong doesn't reply, and Youjin can just barely see the outline of Inseong as a blanket is placed over him. But the night remains chilled.

Youjin wakes up cold the next morning, numb. He wipes dried tears from his face, doesn't spare a glance at the empty space beside him. He gets up and no covers fall. He straightens his suit, buttons back up, rather than changing. He pins a band of white around his arm, and when he leaves, there are no shoes in his doorway but his own. And when he turns his phone back on, he sees the multitudes of concerned messages from his friends.

He knows now - no, he had known all along - that Inseong had never come home.

He never would. Not anymore.

a/n: idk man.. i wrote a different version of this, and between both of them this seemed better.

welp. i hope you enjoyed!! i think.