Hearing the scuffling and muffled curses at the door, I bolt upright from the bed where I had just been staring fixedly at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep ever since the phone call.

“....[, Wan. For s sake, can you stop swinging your hands around like a boxer for a minute so I can finally open this door and drop you drunk- home. Lord, help me with this goddamn woman. I am never getting you this drunk again by myself.]”

Swinging the door open to let Seulgi out of her misery, I reach to take Wendy from her arms to hoist her fireman-style across my shoulder so any reckless swinging punches lands harmlessly against my back.

“Ohh umm thanks Chanyeol, you don’t have to get her. I could’ve just marched her in her room. You can go back to sleep”

“It’s ok Seulgi, Wendy weighs nothing and I couldn’t go to sleep before you guys got home. Anyways, I heard you cursing up a storm outside the door so the act is up. I’m guessing she’s a handful when she’s this drunk?”

“More than a handful. Look about the phone call...I’m sorry for being a little y. It hasn’t been the greatest night so far.”

“Is everything ok? Look we haven’t been super close lately but if ever you need a friend…”

“Thanks Chanyeol but I’ll take a raincheck on that offer. You don’t have to be worried about me, I’m doing ok.”

“Look, I’ve noticed that Wendy has been acting a little weird lately...Does that mean she’s the one who’s going through some ? Is that why she’s drunk as a skunk and you’re the one who’s somewhat sober?”

“You’ve been carrying her for like a century. Let me get her door for you and I’ll be out of your hair. Anyways, I need to get home and I have a ton of work to do. Tell Wendy to call me after she’s done being hungover and cranky.”

People generally say that friends tend to rub off on each other and but there is no doubt in my mind that Seulgi and Wendy are best friends with their sudden knack for excusing themselves and running out with carbon-copy excuses.

Realizing that Wendy was still draped over my shoulder, I gently move to place her down on her bed and cover her with her sheets. Brushing the locks that had fallen across her slightly fluttering eyelids, I frown at the furrow in her eyebrows and the lines on her forehead. More than ten years ago, this would have been a familiar sight during our sleepovers when she would be plagued by nightmares of reliving thunderstorms, roads slick in rain, incoming headlights and the grating sounds of twisting and crushing metal from the car crash that forced her family to move to a new neighbourhood for a fresh start when she was only 7 years old. Hearing her soft whimpers as she tries to burrow deeper under the safe warmth of her blankets, I was left with no choice but to desperately try and hope that my childhood remedy still worked so that I could alleviate the ever-intensifying feeling of pain that has been present since the day she cried.

Massaging her forehead and eyebrows