You know I’m drunk on love,
Drunk on love,
Nothing can sober me up,
It’s all that I need.

I’m so intoxicated,
I love the way you taste
On my lips when we kiss,
You got me so addicted,
So much, I can’t resist
Falling into your arms.

Hakyeon doesn’t even flinch when his phone starts ringing next to him on the bed while he’s reading his current favourite book to help him fall asleep.

It’s half past midnight—his eyes widen when he sees the time on the screen, because he definitely didn’t want to be up so late, but he’s glad Wonshik’s call comes when he’s still awake. He expected it, maybe that’s why he hasn’t gone to sleep yet.

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik breathes into the phone, slurs, really. “Hakyeon…”

“Yes, Wonshik-ah?” Hakyeon asks, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, really,” Wonshik takes a deep breath, probably to soothe his tempestuous stomach. “I really… really love you, like, you’re my life. The only thing that matters to me, you know? I don’t even know what the I’m doing here instead of being with you.”

Hakyeon’s face flushes and he closes his eyes, cringing a little—he can’t help it. But Wonshik’s tangled words make his heart pick up speed in his chest, make it feel like a caged bird trying to escape and fly all the way to Wonshik.

“And you’re the only thing that matters to me,” Hakyeon replies, grinning from ear to ear. “But don’t worry about not being here, okay? You just have fun.”

“I’ll be home soon,” Wonshik says like he didn’t even hear Hakyeon, and Hakyeon lets out a sigh, shaking his head, smiling.

“Take care, love.”

“Yes, I… yes. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Hakyeon ends the call, because he knows Wonshik won’t, he might not even be able to see the screen. He stares fondly at his phone for some more seconds (the background a selfie Wonshik wanted to delete, but Hakyeon is a stubborn creature, so he kept it), and just before he would put it on the nightstand, it chirps, a notification about a new text message popping up.

Ilvoe.eoyu <33333333323

Hakyeon groans when he sees Wonshik’s message, quickly types up the reply and throws in some emoticons for good measure.

He marks the page he’s reading in his book and puts it on the nightstand along with his phone, turns the bedside lamp off and sinks lower in the bed, pulling the comforter up to his shoulder. He smiles into his pillow like a teenage girl who just received a message from her crush; Wonshik is incredibly cheesy on an average day, but when he drinks, he becomes even more embarrassingly sappy. It’s one of the things in him Hakyeon has fallen for, and when he imagines how Wonshik will blush furiously the next morning when he remembers the things he did a few hours before, he feels that overwhelming strain behind his ribs that’s always present when he thinks about how cute Wonshik is.

3.47 am: a loud bang on the front door and keys jingling jolt Hakyeon awake again, his heart pounding with fear for a second, but then he hears the soft little noises Wonshik makes as he kicks his shoes off. Hakyeon gets up, shuffles into the living room—fluffy slippers, white tank top, boxer briefs and all—to find Wonshik supporting himself with a hand on the wall as he struggles to stay awake.

“Hey,” Hakyeon murmurs, taking Wonshik’s free arm to wrap it around his own neck, immediately supporting about 80% of Wonshik’s weight. “Are you okay?”

Wonshik shakes his head and closes his eyes; body jerking a little, lips shut tight.

“Breathe deeply through your nose,” Hakyeon instructs him, pulling him away from the wall and slowly walking him into the bathroom while Wonshik completely ignores the ‘deeply’ part of Hakyeon’s advice, breath coming in short pants instead.

Hakyeon manages to pull the bath mat in front of the toilet with his right foot just a second before Wonshik drops to his knees, lifts the lid and the seat and hangs his head above the bowl, a convulsion making his body shake as he throws up. Hakyeon sits down on the floor next to him, pulls his legs up to his chest, caressing his boyfriend’s back.

He wonders, sitting on the cold tiles, left hand running up and down on the line of Wonshik’s spine, providing some comfort if nothing else—he wonders what love truly is. He sees it in cheap romance films: taking your lover to Paris to kiss them on the top of the Eiffel Tower, candlelit dinners and rose petals around the bed. But isn’t this a form of love, what they’re doing now?

Wonshik retches and it’s painful to hear, he’s feeling unwell—his stupidity, yes, but still, Hakyeon is concerned, he’s always concerned about Wonshik’s well-being—, he’s throwing up his dinner, lunch, breakfast, everything, but between every nasty noise there are Wonshik’s rasped out attempts at telling Hakyeon that he loves him, and Hakyeon shushes him, replies, “I know, and I love you just as much.” But Wonshik insists until he’s dry heaving above the toilet and a few seconds later, stops. He looks up at Hakyeon, whole face red, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes heavy-lidded and nose snotty, saliva dripping from his chin. He looks miserable, objectively gross, probably, but he’s Wonshik, and Hakyeon couldn’t even fake disgust with him.

Hakyeon gives him a sympathetic look as he flushes the toilet and helps Wonshik stand up and stumble to the sink. Wonshik washes his face with cold water, more of it landing on his shirt than on his face, but he still does so and Hakyeon wipes the drops off with a towel.

"Let’s take this off, okay?” Hakyeon says, tugging up Wonshik’s T-shirt and helping him find his way out of it. Wonshik looks down at him with his eyes shining bright, no matter how tired he is. “How was it?”

“Okay,” Wonshik replies, taking his toothbrush out of the cup and pressing some toothpaste on it. “Sanghyuk knocked himself out within two hours… and— and Taekwoon tried to cook, but he was too drunk, so he ended up throwing a bag of crushed pasta into cold water. Jaehwan and Hongbin ate it all.”

“Weird,” Hakyeon laughs.

“Weird,” Wonshik grins at him and turns towards the sink, directing the toothbrush into his mouth, wobbling dangerously. Hakyeon steps behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, keeping Wonshik steady as he presses his cheek to Wonshik’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of shower gel, fabric softener and his skin. “Don’ do tha’,” Wonshik mutters around his toothbrush, “you’ makin’ me .”

Hakyeon peers up at Wonshik’s reflection: eyes barely open, movements languid like he is underwater, and Hakyeon chuckles, pecking Wonshik’s left shoulder blade.

“You’re physically unable to get right now, darling.”

Wonshik mumbles something unintelligible before he rinses and drinks some water straight from the tap, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after.

“Better?” Hakyeon asks, lacing his fingers together with Wonshik’s.

“No,” Wonshik sighs. “But at least I have nothing to puke out anymore.”

Hakyeon smiles and leads him into the bedroom where Wonshik fumbles with his belt and he needs Hakyeon to get rid of his jeans in the end, Wonshik taking a deep breath when Hakyeon crouches down in front of him to make him step out of said garment.

“You’re seriously making me and I’m too smashed to do anything about it,” Wonshik says.

“Don’t worry,” Hakyeon replies, a smug grin on his face as he stands up, patting Wonshik’s cheeks, “it appears it’s only happening in your head.”

“Awkward.”

But Hakyeon is already huddling up under the comforter, near purring when he puts his head on his pillow.

“I just watched you throw up all your guts, nothing is awkward anymore,” he says, lifting his left arm in the air. “Come on, you giant, wasted teddy bear, let me cuddle you to sleep.”

Wonshik climbs onto the bed and flops down, groaning as Hakyeon pulls him close, tugs Wonshik’s head under his chin. His hair smells like the familiar mixture of his shampoo, conditioner and hair spray and also like stale cigarette smoke—like Wonshik after parties.

“I missed you,” Wonshik slurs, words almost lacking any space in-between.

“I know. I missed you, too,” Hakyeon replies, kissing the top of Wonshik’s head. “But, you know, it’s not bad if we hang out with our friends without each other sometimes. We still have about sixty years to spend together, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Wonshik mouths against Hakyeon’s neck, pulling back and taking Hakyeon’s hand off the back of his head, pressing a kiss onto his palm. “Yeah, we do. I’m just drunk as .”

“You are. Sleep.”

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik closes his eyes, hand cupping Hakyeon’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone and his nose, index finger trying to trace the outline of Hakyeon’s lips, ultimately ending up inside Hakyeon’s mouth. Wonshik doesn’t seem to notice that. “You’re gorgeous, you know that? So beautiful, like… I’m so lucky to have you. Is someone forcing you to be with me?”

“Yeah, you,” Hakyeon replies. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the most handsome person on Earth? And how am I going to see your handsome face tomorrow if you poke my eye out?”

“Sorry,” Wonshik takes his hand off Hakyeon’s face and scoots back closer to him, his nose bumping with Hakyeon’s. “Do I still smell like puke?”

“No, you smell like peppermint and a pub.”

“Then kiss me.”

Wonshik puckers his lips and Hakyeon laughs, resting his hand on Wonshik’s hip as he presses small pecks to his tiny mouth, both of them smiling into the kiss that follows—sloppy, toothy, full of hoarse and high-pitched giggles.

“Damn it, I really do love you,” Wonshik whispers after Hakyeon pulls away, nuzzling the base of Hakyeon’s throat, practically half-asleep.

“And I, you.”

“Don’t remind me of any of this when I wake up, yeah?”

“You know I’ll be teasing you about it for the next two weeks.”

“.”

And Wonshik starts snoring while Hakyeon grins into his hair, thanking heavens that he gets to be the one to deal with Wonshik’s cheesiness, even if that involves sitting on the bathroom floor while he’s vomiting from the alcohol he consumed, because he’s just as much in love with Wonshik as the other way around.