It's the night. The sky is clear. Stars here and there, decorating the sky prettily. It's the night. It's dark. It supposed to be a cold night. But for some reason it's not. There's something that makes the night a bit warmer. For you. I don't know if it happens to others. All I know is that you feel warm while walking under the dark sky, chilling air.

You take out your phone. [I am not going back to the house tonight. Drinking]. Pocketing your phone back. You ignore the sudden constant vibrating from the device though, it's about to die anyway.

You are getting closer. The sound of blaring music coming from down there. Down under the cold road. Underground. The music is loud. Even louder when you are stepping downstairs, getting even much closer to the place. The music is louder. Deafening. But somehow it's not. Your eyes scans the place quickly. Smiling to the air, you feel at ease.

"Hey."

Someone taps your shoulder, circling it with his arm. You turn a bit, finding the familiar face. You smile earnestly.

"Ready to drink?"
"I am ready to get drunk," you say, playful but careful. You feel even warmer. Starting to get hot. You take his arm off your shoulder. Ah cooler. Much better. He laughs at you though, saying you are definitely joking with your words, you are still a kid, you are aging backwards. You pout, you are the master in pouting, he stops laughing. He takes your hand, you're getting a bit hot once again but you ignores it and follow him as he guides you to the bar.

"You are not even growing up," he says, offering you a small shot of--you don't really know what is it exactly though, me neither, but you know it contains alcohol. You stares at it for a split seconds before downing it quickly. I think you just shut your eyes before you drink. Ugh. He chuckles.

"Yep, still the same, not even growing up. At all," he smiles. Still boyish. That smile. Still making your heart thumps faster. But your heart should know to stop doing that now, thumping faster because of him. It's not appropriate anymore. It's not appropriate enough to begin with, though.

"Shut up and drink, dork," you say, sliding a glass of--umm, you frown--yep, after all this time you still don't know names of alcoholic drinks.
"Let's just drink soju tonight," he says, but still gulping down the small shot you offered before, "Let's see if you're