Chanyeol hates life so, so much.

He’s pretty convinced that the whole world is out to get him at this point.

Why else would the professors, his professors to be exact, schedule finals to be on Friday and Saturday?

Who the hell even takes finals on Saturday??

No one! Only him!

He’s cracked out, irritated, pissed, and hungry.

On top of that, he hasn’t showered in a week, still wearing the same pair of pajama bottoms and ratty t-shirt he’s been wearing since last Wednesday. There’s a rat’s nest forming on top of his head.

Chanyeol rubs his eyes furiously under his glasses, sitting hunched in front of his lap top and typing up his psychology lecture notes in the hopes that something will burn into his memory. Repeated exposure and all that. Constant rehearsal of a stimulus should transfer that stimulus from his short term memory into long term memory.

Yes! See? He’s getting it already!

Just three more lectures to go. Then, he can start going through those damned reading assignments again.

Oh ing joy.

You know what? Screw this.

“Ugh! I give up!” Chanyeol shouts, tossing his notebook across the dining table and onto the couch. “I’m just gonna fail! I can’t do this anymore!” He scoots his lap top over, dropping his head onto the table and pressing his cheek against the cool, glassy surface. “I just want to take a shower and sleep,” he moans in metaphoric agony.

“Come on, you can do it!” Chanyeol hears his roommate’s muffled cheer from within his closed off room. “Only two more to go!”

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” Chanyeol gripes, shutting his burning and bleary eyes (What is the point of glasses if he still can’t see ?). “You’re already finished.”

“Not my fault you chose classes with late finals,” Jongin replies, opening the door and sticking his head out. “Hey, what time is it?”

Chanyeol cracks open one eye and glares at his monitor. “I think its ten twenty, or ten twenty-eight. I can’t really tell.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Why? Where are you going?” Chanyeol asks, raising his head a little and resting his chin on the table top.

“Out,” Jongin answers as he exits his room, making a beeline for the shoe closet.

“Out where?” Chanyeol asks again curiously, turning his head towards where Jongin is currently digging through their piles upon piles of shoes.

And his breath suddenly leaves him in a whoosh as his gaze lands on his roommate leaning against the closet door, clad in nothing but neon green boxers, skin showing everywhere.

So much ing skin.

Chanyeol tries so very hard not to stare, choking on his own spit as Jongin finally finds what he’s looking for and straightens up, closing the door and throwing a pair of black Nike’s on the floor.

“You said its ten twenty, right?” Jongin repeats in confirmation, dropping down next to the front door to put his shoes on.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol manages to gurgle, trying not to hyperventilate as he mentally battles with himself to ing look away, oh my god keep staring.

“Sweet,” Jongin finishes tying his shoelaces and uses the doorknob to haul himself up. “The undie run starts at ten thirty, so that gives me about ten minutes to jog over to the meet-up spot on campus.”

Chanyeol’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Jongin doing some kind of graceful body wave, the arch of his spine curving as his upper body rolls up, and Chanyeol absolutely refuses to allow his eyes to wander any lower. Because he doesn’t think he’d be able to survive through that.

ing dancer.

Sweet Jesus, God save us all.

“Well, hey! Good luck!” Jongin salutes, stretching his muscles (Chanyeol, you stop ing staring right this second, oh my god) before opening the door and running out.

Chanyeol is still wheezing for air ten minutes after the door clicks shut.

He continues to stare at the door.

Jongin just went out in public dressed in nothing but underwear.

Jongin is outside, pretty much .

Jongin. .

Oh my god.

“ing snap out of it!” Chanyeol scolds himself, shutting his eyes and whacking his temples with his fists. “You have finals to study for!”

Taking a huge, exaggerated breath of air, Chanyeol turns back to his lap top, pulling it up close again, and stares at the screen.

Where was he again?

Something about episodic and semantic memories?

Right! Lecture notes!

Now where did he put those lecture notes?

Chanyeol glances around the table, not finding his notebook anywhere, when he remembers he tossed them onto the couch. Ugh, so lazy. Why must life? With a sigh, he drags himself to his feet, moving around the dining table towards the living room, grabbing the notebook from the couch before returning back to his seat.

Okay. Notebook.

Chanyeol turns back to the page he’d left off at, running his fingers through his hair and getting caught in a bad knot. Annoyed, he tries to yank through the tangled mess before giving up.

Stupid stubborn hair.

I will conquer you if it’s the last thing I do!

Ten gallons of conditioner and omega-3 fish oils.

Ugh, no! Focus!

Chanyeol gives his head a little shake, slapping his notebook onto the table and turning back to the last bullet point he remembers going through.

“Episodic memory,” Chanyeol says aloud, typing up each word as he reads them from his notes. “Declarative memory pertaining to personal experiences or events that can be explicitly stated. For example, if you remember your tenth birthday party, that is an episodic memory.”

Tenth birthday party. What did he do for his tenth birthday party?

Oh yeah! His mom let him have his birthday at the park with all his friends. There was cake, and presents, and a piñata. And they played lots of games like hide-and-seek and tag. During one of the games, his best friend Baekhyun fell into the duck pond! Good times.

Chanyeol smiles, reminiscing over his childhood memories before realizing his mind is straying off topic again.

“Focus!” he straightens his back, staring adamantly at his notes again.

“Episodic memory activity is initially concentrated in the hippocampus before consolidating and storing in the neocortex.”

Hippocampus. Consolidate. Neocortex?

Neo like Matrix?

. Chanyeol’s brain is refusing to process anything anymore.

Hippo what?

Hips?

Hips.

Jongin has nice hips. Very nice hips.

Hips with neon green boxers draped over them.

.

.

“No, no, no!” Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut, violently shaking his head to dislodge the mental image from his brain.

But closing his eyes only achieves to enhance the picture of a very underdressed Jongin. Bright, vivid memory in all its high definition glory.

Smooth, supple skin.

Defined, y abs.

Slim, muscular thighs.

Toned, lifted a…

 “For Christ’s sake!” Chanyeol shrieks, yanking out handfuls of his hair as he topples off the chair, falling onto the cold, linoleum kitchen tiles where he spazzes in figurative pain and torture for the next twenty-five minutes.

After which, he then proceeds to belly crawl all the way to his room where he plans on locking himself in for the remainder of the night, under the safety of his rugged and manly Pokémon comforter.

On the way there, his cotton pajama bottom gets caught on a bit of metal sticking up from the divider between the carpet and tiles, successively tearing a huge hole on the knee of his pants.

The universe is totally against him.

“I failed, I can feel it,” Chanyeol moans into the table as Baekhyun stares across the café, searching for a certain barista who also happens to be in the same vocal club as he is.

Target zoom, target locked.

Cutie barista is currently scribbling some girl’s orders onto a paper cup, eyes disappearing into crescent moons as he puts on his most welcoming customer service smile.

“You’re not even listening to me!” Chanyeol wails, not getting the sympathetic reactions he’s looking for that’s part of the mandatory duties appointed with the title of “best friend.”

“Mmhm,” said best friend replies distractedly, “of course I am.” He waves his hand vaguely for his lamenting friend to continue.

“I ran over Jongdae’s cat with my skateboard,” Chanyeol deadpans, lifting up his head from the table, slightly miffed by Baekhyun’s inattentiveness.

“Mm, that’s nice,” Baekhyun replies, the tip of his lip quirking up into a slow smile as the object of his scrutiny has a motor malfunction and drops a customer’s drink behind the counter. He’s bending down to reach it, his behind sticking up into the air. And a very nice behind it is.

Chanyeol huffs, flipping his gaze over his shoulder to follow Baekhyun’s line of sight to see what exactly is otherwise occupying the boy’s attention from showering him with the proper amount of mollycoddling required of these kinds of situation.

“Isn’t that Daehyun?” Chanyeol squints, eyes zeroing in on the barista in question. “He’s in your music class right?”

“Vocal club,” Baekhyun corrects automatically, still smiling like an idiot over Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“Same thing,” Chanyeol pouts, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat.

Making eye contact with Daehyun, Baekhyun lowers his gaze and lifts his eyebrow in what he probably thinks is a y manner.

“Dude, you’re not cute,” Chanyeol says conversationally, checking his nail beds. “You look like a sleazeball trying to hit on some middle school girl hanging out at the mall with her friends.”

“Jealous,” Baekhyun replies, completely unfazed, still making y come-hither eyes at the boy across the room. “He’s got the voice of an angel,” he croons as Daehyun gives him a little wave.

Chanyeol tries not to gag, contemplating taking a sugar packet and drizzling it on top of the idiot’s head and shouting the L’Oreal slogan at the top of his lungs when Baekhyun, sensing imminent mischief after years of being best friends and being able to pick up on the remotest of body signals, finally returns his attention back to Chanyeol.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

Ugh, foiled again. And it was such a good plan.

Anyways, back to complaining.

“My roommate,” Chanyeol wails, throwing his hands into his hair and grabbing fistfuls of his wavy locks, “Jongin is the problem.”

“How so,” Baekhyun inquires, slowly blowing and taking a sip of his Americano.

“He’s waltzing around in our apartment! He wears neon underpants! Who wears neon underpants?! It’s distracting and I can’t study and when I was taking the test, Jongin and his neon underpants kept dancing into my brain! I can’t focus!” Chanyeol bangs his head back against the booth with every few syllables for emphasis. “I’m gonna fail my finals. I’m gonna fail the class. I’ll get held back a year. No one will want to hire me after seeing my abysmal transcript. I’m gonna end up working at some fast food restaurant for the rest of my life! I don’t want grease stains all over my nice shoes! I don’t even like fast food!”

Baekhyun snorts into his drink. “Ouch, ! That’s hot!”

“Serves you right,” Chanyeol says vindictively, reaching for his pumpkin spice latte as Baekhyun wipes his nose with his sweater sleeve. “Ugh, I will never look at neon green the same ever again,” Chanyeol frowns, staring at his cup.

“You know, the undie run is a two day thing,” Baekhyun shrugs, smirking as Chanyeol drops his drink and throws his head back again, whining about the universe and higher entities not being on his side.

“I have a final tomorrow!” Chanyeol wails, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t fail another one!”

Feeling generously compassionate, Baekhyun decides to put his best friend out of his misery.

“Why don’t you come to my place? I have a math final tomorrow, so I’ll be studying too.”

“Oh my God, Baekhyun, you’re the ing best.”

“I always am,” Baekhyun sniffs, staring at his nail beds. “Good to know you’ve finally noticed after fifteen years of friendship.”

Jongin is sweeping through his closet in search of a specific pair of underwear when he hears Chanyeol calling from the living room.

“Hey Jongin!”

“What?” he shouts back, giving up on the task at hand and wandering out of his room to find his roommate stuffing his notebooks and lap top into a backpack.

“I’m gonna go study at Baekhyun’s” Chanyeol informs him, unplugging the charger from the outlet and rolling it into a coil. “I’ll probably be gone all day, and not be back till tomorrow after the test.”

“Oh,” Jongin frowns as Chanyeol zips his backpack and tosses it over his shoulder.

“Just giving you a heads up,” his roommate smiles before turning for the door, jamming his feet into his chucks and walking outside. Jongin continues to frown as the door swings shut.

Well that just totally trumps his plans.

Inhaling heavily through his nose, Jongin marches back into his room to grab his phone and keys.

“Best friend!” Jongin drags out the last syllable, tossing his arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulders as Kyungsoo tries to reshelf some items that annoying customers had taken down and misplaced in different areas of the University Center store. “Help me!”

“Oh my God, get off me you overgrown infant,” Kyungsoo says evenly, tiptoeing to put back a desk lamp on a particularly high-up shelf. “You’re heavy and I don’t need any more weight pushing me down to stunt my already not-so-stellar growth.”

“But I’m in need of your assistance,” Jongin whines, taking the lamp from Kyungsoo and placing it on the shelf with ease. “It’s your job to help customers, and I need your help.”

Kyungsoo merely raises an eyebrow, wiping his dusty hands onto his apron.

“You have five minutes before my boss comes back from her smoke break. You have until she walks back through that door to say whatever it is you have to say. Then I’m kicking you out. Start, now.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

“Four minutes and fifty-two seconds.”

“Okay, okay!”

“Four minutes and forty-eight.”

“My roommate won’t notice me, I totally offered myself and walked around in nothing but boxers yesterday but he still won’t even look at me,” Jongin rushes under one breath, picking up and toying with a keychain of the school crest. “Everyone likes me, I’m a very likeable person, why won’t he like me like everyone else? Why won’t he like me?!”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“What?! No! How am I supposed to just ask him, just like that?” Jongin looks scandalized. “Like, hey I think you’re cute, I’ve kinda had this crush on you since we first moved in together. I like how long your legs are and I wanna run my fingers through that explosion of hair of yours. Wanna date me?” he snorts. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so.”

Kyungsoo just gives him a withering stare, snatching the keychain and hanging it back on the proper hook.

“To figure this out, you need to talk to him, not me.”

“I can’t just ask him that, Kyungsoo,” Jongin moans pitifully, stamping his foot on the ground. “That, like, breaks some kind of social norm or something where you don’t directly ask the object of your pining if he likes you back or not. He’s gotta say it himself. That’s how romance works.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to his infantile friend.

“How did I ever get stuck with you as my best friend?”

“Because I’m cute and you love me,” Jongin declares confidently, placing his hands on his hips. “No one can resist my charms.”

“Three, two, one,” Kyungsoo counts down with his fingers.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jongin flails his arms as Kyungsoo promptly sweeps him out the door with a nearby broom.

“Are you seriously drinking right now?” Chanyeol raises a brow as Baekhyun opens the door, wine glass in hand.

“Yeah dude,” Baekhyun replies matter-of-factly, “state-dependent learning. If I study drunk, then I can show up to the final drunk, and I’ll do amazing on my test.”

Chanyeol shakes his head in disbelief, dropping his backpack onto the floor and plopping down on the couch. “Your logic astounds me.”

“That’s why I’m passing all my classes and you’re not,” Baekhyun takes a haughty sip of his wine, being fancy with his pinky up. “Want some?” he offers.

“Nah, I’m good,” Chanyeol says, pulling out his lap top and plugging the charger into a socket nearby. “Unlike you, I have better study morals than just winging it in the hopes that I’ll get at least one out of four correct.”

“Suit yourself,” Baekhyun shrugs, dropping onto the floor next to Chanyeol’s legs. He places his wine glass on the coffee table and flips a page of his statistics textbook, marking a few key points with an orange highlighter.

Chanyeol settles into the couch, placing his lap top on his lap and propping his legs on the coffee table. With a sigh, he starts up his computer and waits for the Wi-Fi signal to connect. Tapping impatiently on the keyboard, he leans his head back and stares at the ceiling as an unbidden image of skin and neon green flashes through his mind.

‘Please, not right now,’ Chanyeol internally pleads with his brain, thumping his head against the soft cushioned back.

“You okay?” Baekhyun turns his gaze over his shoulder, a light pink glow dusting his cheeks. “You know, you keep hitting your head like that, you’ll just lose more brain cells.”

“Baekhyun, do you have bleach?” Chanyeol mumbles, shoving a cushion onto his face.

“That’ll just kill more brain cells,” Baekhyun pats Chanyeol’s leg sympathetically, eyes returning to his textbook.

“I can’t get rid of him,” Chanyeol moans, shoving the pillow down harder, hoping to maybe smother himself to death. “It’s crippling my life. He won’t let me function properly.”

Baekhyun sighs, dropping his highlighter into the centerfold of his book.

“Wanna play COD?”

Chanyeol perks up immediately, letting the cushion fall onto his lap. “Yes?”

Baekhyun snorts, crawling around the coffee table to turn on his TV and PS3. Grabbing the controllers, he crawls back to his spot on the floor, tossing one up into Chanyeol’s waiting hands.

“Prepare to have your handed you,” Chanyeol pushes his back away from the couch, settling into game position. “I will pwn you.”

“Mmhm,” Baekhyun hums, leaning in and pinching Chanyeol’s inner thigh. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Dude, when did it get so dark?” Chanyeol asks, lightly tugging at Baekhyun’s hair as Baekhyun uses the couch as leverage to haul himself off the floor. He wobbles his way to the far wall, switching on the lights as Chanyeol surveys the mess they made in the past few hours.

There’s an empty pizza box on top of the stats textbook and lots of miscellaneous candy wrappers and soda cans littered around the coffee table. There’s an empty wine bottle lying on the floor.

“Damn, we did some major damage,” Baekhyun comments, dropping himself onto the couch next to Chanyeol. “So much for studying.”

“I still need to study,” Chanyeol sighs, staring at the time on his phone. “Eight thirty. Still got sixteen and a half hours of crunch time.”

“Mm,” Baekhyun hums, sliding down the couch and shutting his eyes. “You do that. Wine makes me sleepy as . I think I’m gonna nap.”

“In that case,” Chanyeol says, dragging himself off the couch, “I think I’ll just go to the library and study. Maybe I can focus better there.”

“You’re free to stay here if you want,” Baekhyun lays down all the way now, resting his head on the arm of the couch.

“It’s cool,” Chanyeol starts collecting his belongings and tossing them into his backpack. “I’ll give the library a try.”

“If you’re sure,” Baekhyun’s voice drifts as he begins to fade into unconsciousness.

“Thanks for letting me kick it though,” Chanyeol ruffles his best friend’s hair on the way to the door. “I’ll be back later to help you clean the mess.”

He turns back to say goodbye and Baekhyun is already lightly snoring.

Chanyeol wrinkles his nose as he enters the twenty-four hour room at the library, a wave of stink like stale sweat and old newspapers assaulting his nostrils.

He makes his way past the occupied round tables, spotting an open private desk at the very back wall of the room. He settles down into the hard, wooden chair, placing his backpack on top of the matching wooden desk. With a sigh, he s his bag and, once again, sets up his lap top and notebook to get started on studying for his very last final of the quarter.

Words, words, words.

Type, type, type.

Depression, SSRI, cytokines.

Almost two hours later, and letters are starting to move and jump around the screen in a squiggly river dance as Chanyeol internally cries for the words to sit still so he won’t lose track and type out the same sentence again for the eleventh time.

He’s currently sipping at an energy drink with one hand and following “reuptake” around the monitor with his other finger, trying to guide it back to its proper place, when his attention is snapped to a very loud chorus of chants and cheers.

A large horde of half- men and women come stampeding through the entrance, parading around the entire perimeter of the little twenty-four hour room, before making a U-turn and exiting through another side door.

Chanyeol coughs, his nose stinging as his nostrils are put in jeopardy of dribbling carbonated energy drink, when he spots a very familiar head of dark brown hair jogging along with the rest of the crowd.

Sweet Jesus, he’s wearing hot pink boxer briefs.

Jongin spots Chanyeol as the underwear clad group makes its rotation around the back of the room.

What a surprise! See? Fate totally wants them to be together!

“Hey Chanyeol!” Jongin waves, a huge grin spreading across his face as he watches his roommate gape, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

Jongin lightly jogs in place as he pauses beside Chanyeol’s desk to say hello.

“What are you doing here?” Jongin internally cheers as he hears Chanyeol’s voice crack, jumping up a few octaves, which is a feat in and of itself considering how deliciously deep the boy’s voice is.

“The course actually passes through the library,” Jongin informs, glancing over his shoulder as the rambunctious crowd continues to run on by. “Thought you were gonna be at Baekhyun’s? Well, I guess I should get going. You study hard!”

Jongin mentally does a little celebration dance as he rejoins the crowd, leaving behind a gurgling Chanyeol, eyes still threatening to pop out and break through his glasses.

Score.

Now Jongin is absolutely certain about his next course of action.

Needless to say, Chanyeol spends the rest of the AM hours, half wrestling away the image of Jongin’s shapely and half contemplating drowning himself in the public toilet.

The sky is inky black, punctuated by thousands of tiny little glittering stars, a half-moon hanging high above the ever-reaching ocean. The only light around comes from the ten or so bonfires blazing every few feet across a long stretch of the beach, as a local DJ blasts electronic music from his turntables set up above on someone’s balcony.

“I’m over this! I’m done!” Chanyeol exclaims as he and Baekhyun amble through the crowded sands, everyone joined together to celebrate the conclusion of another quarter. They try not to bump into the already drunken masses, weaving their way towards the cluster of beer kegs to catch up with all their other ed up schoolmates. “I just want to get wasted, and forget about classes, and finals, and all that dumb !”

“Amen,” Baekhyun preaches as they queue up at the back of the line, waiting their turn to retrieve their red Solo cup of cheap beer. It takes them ten minutes to finally get to the front, grabbing their cups from the stack and pouring out a healthy amount of beer, before turning back and wandering off towards one of the bonfires, keeping an eye out for friends and familiar faces.

“Cheers,” Chanyeol taps his cup to Baekhyun’s, taking a deep draught of the bitter liquid, when suddenly, his cup is pulled away from his mouth.

Chanyeol coughs as a trickle of beer slides down his chin.

“Hey, sorry dude,” Baekhyun apologizes, already power walking away in the other direction. “Duty calls!”

Chanyeol stares after his best friend’s retreating back in confusion, eyes squinting into a glare when he realizes Baekhyun’s trajectory leads to one smiling barista boy.

“Give me my drink back!” Chanyeol shouts over the noisy crowd as Baekhyun raises the red cup into the air, still walking swiftly through the swaying bodies.

“Thanks, wingman! I owe you one!”

Chanyeol glares across the bonfire, desperately willing his eyes to laser a hole through Baekhyun’s skull as the traitor hands his drink to an oblivious and grateful Daehyun.

With an irritated huff, Chanyeol stomps back to the end of the keg line, muttering under his breath about betrayal and useless best friends, while working up a sandstorm in his wake.

The line has definitely gotten longer since the last time he waited for his beer. Twenty minutes and Chanyeol is still only half way to the kegs.

“Stupid Baekhyun and his stupid barista,” he mutters to himself, imagining all the ways he can embarrass his best friend in front of the boy’s current love interest. Chanyeol is cataloging through his childhood memories of anything that might be of worth in his plans for vengeance when two red cups suddenly materialize right in front of his nose.

“Beer?” Jongin asks, lightly shaking the beers as Chanyeol goes cross-eyed, leaning back a little to put some space in between the intruding cups and his face.

“Yeah, sure,” Chanyeol smiles, accepting one of the proffered red cups. “Thanks! Thought I wasn’t gonna be able to get my drank on till tomorrow morning at the rate this line is moving.”

“No problem, I got you,” Jongin shrugs as the two walk away from the keg line, making their way over to the nearest bonfires. They drink their beer in silence for a few minutes, just watching the fire as sparks flit through the air while the flames curl and up the stone pit.

“Here,” Jongin speaks first, turning to face Chanyeol. “You have something right there,” he brings his hand up to Chaneol’s face and uses his thumb to brush off some sand that had clung to and dried on the beer he had spilled earlier.

Chanyeol feels his face heat up as Jongin leans in closer, eyes concentrated on the little patch of sand-encrusted skin just below his lips. He can feel Jongin’s warm breath saturating the neck of his t-shirt, just above his collarbones.

Finally content with the cleanliness of Chanyeol’s chin, Jongin straightens up, stepping back with a satisfied smile.

“There you go,” he says, taking a sip of his beer as Chanyeol manages to cough out some kind of garbled mumble that sounds like it might be an expression of gratitude. “No problem,” Jongin replies, ruffling that messy tangle of curls that he adores so much.

“Hey! Stop babysitting your drink!” Baekhyun’s loud voice interrupts, shouting above the bass and commotion of the drunken crowds. “Chug it!”

Chanyeol turns over his shoulder to see his best friend rushing over with the barista, fingers laced together, and waving his cup of beer into the air.

“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”

“Dude, I’m not talking to you,” Chanyeol pouts, crossing his arms over his chest, completely forgetting that he’s also holding a full cup of beer and effectively spilling out most of the liquid onto the left side of his body. “Aw !”

Baekhyun bursts into laughter, dragging Daehyun closer to do some quick introductions before getting back to teasing his agitated best friend some more. Favorite pastime and all that.

“I don’t think you guys have formally met,” Baekhyun snorts, trying to hold back his laugh as Jongin helps Chanyeol squeeze out some of the beer from his shirt. “This is Daehyun. Daehyun, this is my best friend, Chanyeol.”

“Hey, how’s it going,” Chanyeol addresses politely, trying not to flush as Jongin’s fingers gently brush against his stomach as they both try to twist the fabric together to get as much of the liquid out as possible.

“Nice to meet you,” Daehyun smiles, taking a sip of his beer as Baekhyun releases his hand and throws an arm around his shoulder. “And this is Jongin, Chanyeol’s roommate,” Baekhyun finishes introducing.

“Hey,” Jongin nods in way of a greeting, smirking as he feels Chanyeol squirm beneath his hand.

“Why don’t you just take it off?” Baekhyun proposes suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows as Chanyeol squashes down the urge to grab Jongin’s cup and dump the drink on top of the idiot’s head.

You know what?” Jongin says, releasing the shirt and patting out the wrinkles, purposefully letting his hands linger just a second or two longer than necessary. “It’ll dry. Just leave it alone.”

“Yeah,” Daehyun agrees, shooting Chanyeol a sympathetic look. “It’s a pretty warm night. And you won’t even notice it when you’re drunk enough.”

“Exactly!” Baekhyun crows, jumping up and down, slightly jostling the boy under his arm. “Just drink more and you’ll forget about it! Come on, wasn’t that the goal of tonight? Getting ed up?”

“Hm,” Chanyeol agrees, airing out the moist shirt clinging to his skin. “Yeah, booze. Booze sounds good.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Baekhyun promptly leads the way, dragging a bemused Daehyun behind him.

About an hour and a half later and twelve beers deep, everyone in their little group is either super buzzed or straight up drunk.

Baekhyun and Daehyun had ditched the bonfire half an hour ago in favor of going back to Baekhyun’s apartment to do some “vocal practices,” claiming to have a performance to prepare for in a few weeks.

“Yeah, practice,” Chanyeol snorts as they walk along the shore, clinging to Jongin’s shoulders for support. But Jongin’s feeling pretty wobbly himself so they end up tumbling into the sand in a heap of tangled limbs and cackling laughter. “He’ll probably be making Daehyun scream all night, if that’s what they wanna call vocal practice.”

Jongin wheezes for air as he tries to roll away, grabbing his stomach as his muscles spasm from laughing too hard. But their legs are just way too entwined and in their current state, the mechanics of movement just aren’t skills readily available to them.

Instead, Jongin opts for dragging Chanyeol in closer by their interwoven legs, sliding his warm hands around the laughing boy’s waist.

“Hey,” Jongin says by way of a warning, drawing closer to Chanyeol’s pretty pink mouth and stopping just centimeters from his destination.

If you want it…

“Hey,” Chanyeol repeats breathlessly, gazing through heavily lidded eyes, before closing the distance and meeting with Jongin’s soft, plush lips.

Somewhere through their alcohol and heat riddled daze, Chanyeol and Jongin can hear drunken hoots and catcalls goading them on as they roll around in the sand, miscalculating just how far they are from the water’s edge, and unintentionally dunking themselves into the cold and salty waves.

Kyungsoo shakes his head in mild distaste, thoroughly unimpressed by his best friend’s little public display of affection.

“Your friend?” a soft husky voice floats above the raucous drunkards and head-pounding music, catching Kyungsoo’s attention. “I totally feel you on that.”

Kyungsoo turns around to find a boy of about his height, donning a bright yellow beanie, complete with the cutest set of pinchable cheeks he’s ever seen.

Cute Cheeks glances over his shoulder, pointedly staring at a taller boy, probably on some other level of drunk, trying to execute some kind of weird ballet positions or some erratic interpretive dance moves, and failing, on a tabletop next to a stack of red cups.

“Himchan, no!” Cute Cheeks calls out, dashing over to catch his unbalanced friend and prevent the boy from causing himself serious head injury which could potentially end in a concussion.

“Woops,” drunk Himchan sings as Cute Cheeks helps straighten him up, pouting when his red cup is removed from his hand. “Hey,” he whines. “I’m not done with that.”

“Yes, you are,” Cute cheeks states firmly, dumping the rest of the beer into the sand.

“Disrespect,” Himchan sniffs, crossing his arms and losing balance again.

“Here, let me help you,” Kyungsoo wanders over to the two, helping them pick up some of the cups that the drunk boy had knocked over during one of his squiggly pirouettes.

“Thanks,” Cute Cheeks smiles in appreciation as they finish stacking up the last of the cups, Himchan already wandering away into the crowd, shouting for “Bbang,” whatever that is.

“My name’s Youngjae, by the way.”

Kyungsoo smiles, taking Youngjae’s offered hand.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Some friends we have, huh?” Youngjae laughs, letting his fingers stay curled in their handshake for a second or two longer than required for proper greeting protocol.

“Tell me about it,” Kyungsoo sighs dramatically, liking the way Youngjae’s warm, silky skin feels pressed against his own. “I question my judgment in picking friends on a daily basis.”

a/n: part autobiographical. my campus was right next to the beach. like three minute walk. and my school actually had undie runs during finals and they did run through the library while i was trying to study. nekkid people. library. study. yeah. im sorry about this ㅠㅜ i wanted to write kaiyeol where i DONT kill them off and this word vomit kind of just happened. my bad T^T i miss college.

/edit: on the cover image, chanyeol is a pretty accurate self-portrait of  me during finals TuT