Jihoon’s at a party.

Not a company party, where there’s muted talk between suits over cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. He’s at one of those parties that movies always show: loud EDM, dim lights, lots of cheese snacks and red beer cups, one of which he’s holding right now. He’s sitting on a ratty old couch, so old that the springs are poking into his backside. He has the biggest headache this side of the West Coast, and his body is aching all over, courtesy of the surf lesson he attended earlier.

Seungcheol had made him practice his paddling on the water, ‘to find his sweet spot on the board’. Jihoon hadn’t dared to venture too deep into the sea, feeling more suffocated with each step. Seungcheol had gone knee-deep into the water - which was almost about waist-deep for Jihoon, who’s much smaller than him -  but Jihoon had stopped closer to the shore, in the white water, where the waves have broken and the water is flat; where the water stopped midway at his calves instead.

Paddling’s basically swimming on the water, lying down on a surfboard. Jihoon felt awkward at first, but once he got comfortable, once he found his ‘sweet spot’, he’d paddled around like he’d never before, his fingertips brushing the sandy ocean floor; taking extra caution to not fall into the shallow water, with Seungcheol keeping an eye on him.

It had been fun, but it’s tiring. As an office worker, Jihoon’s not accustomed to putting so much strain to his arms. He almost can’t feel his fingers; and wonders how he’s still gripping onto his cup. In retrospect, he should’ve had stayed home tonight to curl up in bed and rest – he’s not having the time of his life here, anyway. The loud music’s not doing any wonders to his head; it’s even thumping like mad, almost in sync with the heavy bass beats.

“Since Soonyoung’s not around tonight, maybe you wanna hang out? Jerry and I are going to a party.” Seungcheol suggested, as the two of them walked back to Seungcheol’s jeep once the surfer had called the class over.

Jihoon had said yes without thinking. If it had been Soonyoung, he would’ve thrown a few excuses and a punch before Soonyoung could coax an affirmative response out of him. Jihoon's not a party person; he'd rather stay at home, but he'd never pass up the chance to spend some more time with his hot surf instructor.

So Seungcheol had excitedly laid out the plans for the evening, even picking Jihoon up at his rented house after dinnertime; with Jerry grinning at him from the backseat as he rode shotgun.

Seungcheol had introduced Jihoon to the owner of house, who’d swept Seungcheol away in a whirlwind of ‘bros’ and fistbumps, leaving Jihoon with Jerry, yelling something about the wifi. The two of them promptly went in search of snacks, but Jerry kept getting stopped by people with their surfer lingo that Jihoon doesn’t understand.

Jihoon managed to make his way to the kitchen, where he found lots of cheese balls and beer. He grabbed a handful of cheese balls, and someone pressed a cup of beer into his hand. He’d been aiming for the fruit punch, really, but he’s too polite to refuse the drink, so he holds onto it. Jihoon noted down the wifi password scrawled onto the little magnetic whiteboard onto the fridge, just in case he gets bored later so that he can surf the internet. The kitchen’s getting crowded with new people coming in, greeting each other loudly, so Jihoon went in search for a quiet corner to nurse his cup of beer and his growing headache, finding solace in a recycled couch right next to a potted plant in the corner of the den.

He has no idea how long’s he been sitting there, refusing to move at all, even when a hormone-fuelled couple crashes onto the other end of the couch, making out. Jihoon can’t even get some shut-eye; the house has a formidable sound system, there’s even a speaker above his head that keeps pumping loud, steady beats, but no one’s dancing. At first, Jihoon tries to distract himself by mentally dissecting the musical structure of the songs coming out of the speakers, but it adds to his headache, and now there’s nothing else he wants but to head home.

Part of him hates Seungcheol and Jerry for leaving him alone in a stranger’s house, and the other part of him doesn’t care and just craves for sleep.

Which brings him back to his current predicament. He’s at a party, sitting on the most uncomfortable couch in the whole world, holding a cup full of beer as his body aches all over.

Joy.

A tall, lanky guy in a hoodie and round spectacles approaches the couch and sits next to Jihoon, warily eyeing the couple exchanging saliva at the end of the couch. He looks like an Asian Harry Potter in his emo years, Jihoon thinks, wondering if the guy’s glasses are real or just a fashion statement.

“Are you gonna drink that?” Hoodie Guy asks, pointing at Jihoon’s cup.

Jihoon looks down at his hands. “Uh. Yeah.”

“I was gonna throw it at those two so that they leave.”

“Get a room, you two. Ugh.” Jihoon cracks a tiny smile. He likes this guy’s sarcasm – it’s just his brand of humour.

“You look too young to be at these kinds of parties, kid.”

It’s one thing to call Jihoon cute, but it’s another story when he gets mistaken for a child. Both tick him off; but this time, Jihoon’s headache hurts too much for him to go on a full-blown rage against his new acquaintance.

Jihoon still snaps, anyway. “For your information, I’m twenty-something, and a qualified accountant at one of the biggest companies in Seoul!” He says