Author's Note: Part 1/3, written because I need some humor in my life right now. Enjoy.

***

Sungyeol is hungover.

More accurately, Sungyeol is hungover, tired, hungry, and dangerously lacking access to caffeine.

Sungyeol normally spends the morning after a night of drinking by lying in bed, sipping from an obnoxiously large cup of coffee, eating greasy breakfast foods prepared by his roommate, and ruminating over the immensely stupid decisions he's made the night before.

But today is different.

Because today, Sungyeol is standing on the snow-covered streets of Seoul, freezing his off in the sub-zero weather as he is manhandled toward a small, unremarkable café by his annoyingly energetic roommate, Hoya.

Sungyeol takes a moment to reflect on every absurd detail of this situation, working backwards and trying to figure out exactly how he got conned into this.

He doesn't remember getting home last night, doesn't remember getting up this morning, and definitely doesn't remember agreeing to trudge through the ice and snow-covered streets with a maddeningly peppy Hoya.

He doesn't even remember getting dressed, just remembers Hoya throwing a random mass of clothing articles at the bed as he'd desperately tried to cling onto the last remnants of sleep.

Sungyeol glances down, for the first time taking note of what he's wearing and groaning inwardly.

He's stuffed into one of Hoya's annoyingly short winter coats, a shirt that he's only about 60% sure isn't inside out, and a pair of jeans that he lost last week and found under his bed sometime yesterday. He has a very strong suspicion that Hoya just gathered a collection of clothing articles that had been on the floor (or worse, in the laundry hamper) and given them to Sungyeol to wear this morning, adding his own too-short jacket to the mix just to torture Sungyeol.

And as if the humiliation of having to walk around the icy streets of Seoul tired, hungry, hungover, and hideous isn't enough, every time Sungyeol moves his left arm he feels like he is being stabbed by the tiny swords of an angry ant militia.

He stops for a second to remember exactly how he managed to up his arm so badly, vaguely recalls Jiae daring him to dance on top of the bar last night, and then remembers falling off of it and nearly impaling his arm on a bar stool.

All in all, Sungyeol figures that he got off pretty lightly with the angry ant militia.

Sungyeol's tragically unfashionable ensemble is made complete by the addition of a hideously large blue scarf, courtesy of the satan-spawn currently clutching Sungyeol's arm and dragging him into a café. As Hoya successfully man-handles Sungyeol through the doors of the café (Infinitea, the sign had read) and over to a small table by the window, Sungyeol wonders if the scarf is large enough to smother himself with. He can only hope.

"What do you think of the décor? The owner's my friend from that accounting class I took last semester, remember? He just remodeled so I thought I'd bring you in for a second opinion," Hoya says cheerily, either completely oblivious to Sungyeol's misery or happily ignoring it. "And also today's my diet day, so of course I had to bring you along. Seeing as your taste buds are either all completely dead or you sold them to the devil in exchange for the ability to drink copious amounts of caffeine, you're the best person to eat salad with," Hoya finishes, smiling.

Sungyeol feels like death, and if he could spit poison into his obnoxiously happy friend's face, he would. He briefly contemplates whether it would actually be worth selling his sense of taste in exchange for the ability to spit poison, then remembers the monstrosity of an outfit he's currently wearing and decides that it would be.

Most of his outfit either doesn't fit him or smells like Hoya's disgusting aftershave, the morning sun is assaulting his eyes and making him want to crawl into a hole and die, his head is pounding and he has no caffeine to remedy it, and he is seriously considering chewing off his left arm (the ant militia seems to have developed a personal vendetta against Sungyeol's sanity in the span of a few minutes).

Sungyeol sulkily closes his eyes and lets his head drop against the wooden table, wondering what he's done to deserve waking up this morning to his own personal circle of hell.

He hears footsteps approaching the table, and secretly prays that at the very least, they won't have an annoyingly peppy waiter.

From above him, Sungyeol hears a new voice say, "Welcome to Infinitea. May I take your order, Hoya-ssi?"

"Ah, come on Soo-ah," Hoya replies. "No need to be so formal. Well, maybe be formal to Sungyeol here. He woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and has been mumbling to himself about spitting poison in my face for waking him up so early," Hoya says, laughing. "Isn't he just adorable when he's angry?'

Sungyeol indignantly picks his head up from the table, ready and willing to give Hoya a tongue-lashing that will go down in history as one of his most intense, but all of his anger turns into sudden, crippling embarrassment when he sees the waiter.

The guy is absolutely gorgeous, with a face so perfect it can't possibly be natural, a dimple so perfectly poised on his supple cheek that it's absolutely, sinfully able, and skin so ing perfectly tanned that it is the dictionary definition of golden brown. (When recipes say "bake until golden brown," they should insert a picture of this guy for reference, Sungyeol decides.)

"Sungyeol, this is Myungsoo, otherwise known as Soo. Myungsoo, this is Sungyeol, otherwise known as my of a roommate," Hoya says, his voice cutting unpleasantly into Sungyeol's thoughts.

The guy (Myungsoo, Sungyeol corrects himself) stands there a little awkwardly, bowing shyly and smiling a small, heart-melting smile as he directs his gaze to Sungyeol. Even in a simple white work shirt and black waiter's apron, Myungsoo looks so perfectly gorgeous that he could've just run away from a fashion show.

"Sungyeol, stop staring at Soo," Hoya's voice sharply interjects, unpleasantly cutting into Sungyeol's thoughts a second time. "I'll take the chicken salad, by the way, Soo," Hoya continues, fixing Myungsoo with his typical wide smile.

Sungyeol feels a brief flash of panic then, because if Hoya has one attractive poin