“Woah, you need to calm down, Soo,” Jongin whispers under his breath, his arms twitching under Kyungsoo’s weight.

Kyungsoo can barely keep his own eyes open, and his breath lingers with the façade of ecstasy woven into alcohol sips (gulps).

Once in a while, Kyungsoo screws up. And their relationship turns three hundred and sixty; Jongin is the fixer, Kyungsoo is the mess.

Kyungsoo hates himself for the way he is—hypocritical in his comments about how Jongin is so ‘unorganised and lazy’, how Jongin needs to ‘get his life sorted out’.

But Jongin doesn’t mind that his lover screws up once in a while, with bleeding knuckles and glass shreds embedded into the kill of his tongue.

And so, in the morning, when Kyungsoo wakes up to Jongin’s smooth kisses—each touch remains calm on top of his burning cigarette wounds—he can’t help but to smile apologetically.

Then, Kyungsoo will hurriedly mumble, “thanks,” before falling back into his painful hangover.