all jung wooyoung ever wanted was to go about life like he always did, and that worked for him; until the top-tier celebrity choi san was in the picture, that is.
but there was a catch; wooyoung was his anti-fan.
start: august 9, 2023
end: septembe...
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san woke up with a piercing ache in his head. he let out a painful groan, bringing his hand up to his forehead.
this was why he had to get rid of this drinking habit of his. when seonghwa mentioned his alcohol intolerance, he really wasn't kidding, even though san endlessly denied it—san's hypersensitivity to alcohol was serious, and everytime he had it, he'd either be throwing up and tripping on his feet half-awake, or straight up just pass out, either way, having a horrendous stabbing headache and the will to do nothing as an aftermath.
he tried to get up, only to fail and fall back. what a way to start the day, he thought to himself, looking down to see heavy layers of blankets and cloth piled up on him. confused, san pushed it off with a kick of his leg, finally sitting up straight and letting out a sore sigh before looking around the room.
everything was a complete, utter mess.
there were dozens of crumpled up tissues on the table and the ground in front of him, and the clothes he'd worn the day before were still there, unwashed, hanging over the couch. his jaw dropped out of confusion. what had he even done for his place to be in shambles like this? he really had to applaud himself for making a mess despite barely having anything to make a mess of in his nearly empty apartment.
if san was honest, he barely had any idea of what he'd been up to for the last 24 hours. all he remembered of when he had his head clear was getting blind drunk but still being able to think straight, walking back to the apartment with seonghwa who was on the brink of passing out, throwing his weak body somewhere in his apartment, then.... then what?
san shook his head, throwing his doubts way before his headache could get any worse. it didn't matter, anyway. not like he did something so ridiculously horrible that he'd have to live in hiding for the rest of his life.
there was a glass cup on the table along with pills, and a tiny post-it note. good to know seonghwa had gotten over his hangover seeing how he found the time to do this for him. he leaned forward and picked the note up, reading it.
"get urself together man. NOT SO SINCERELY.." it read in big, ugly, scribbly black ball-pen writing, and half the words had been blurred by drops of water. san scoffed. seonghwa really could never be nice in situations of any tone, even if his life depended on it. he took the pill and followed with a swig of water from the glass before setting it down and letting out a relieved breath. it really did feel good to have a liquid in your system that wasn't alcoholic.
he picked up his phone, raising his eyebrows upon checking the time. it was almost 3am—exactly how long had he been out? his notifications showed 13 missed calls from seonghwa, and 2 from his manager. assuming seonghwa would be awake at a time like this considering his owl-like sleeping habits and tendency to stay up because of his unhealthy daily consumption levels of caffeine, san decided to ring him up. and of course, he picked up.
"hey man!" seonghwa quipped from the other end, and san could almost feel his caffeine-induced restlessness through the line. "how are you feeling? i've been meaning to call you."
"yeah, i think the 13 missed calls got your message through." san retorted, chuckling weakly. "what are you up to?"
"studying. how's your hangover?"
when seonghwa said studying, what he really meant was his sudden obsession with books on psychology everytime his system was caffeinated. he'd stay up for late hours with those bloodshot eyes, carefully running through books—which he'd often ask san to get for him from the library next to his old house—on weird things like mind manipulation and body language. and san had always found that habit of his strange, but hey, everyone has strange habits of their own, right? except san, of course. in his opinion, even the most out-of-ordinary things he did could be justifiable, because, well, he's choi san.
"great. thanks for the meds, dad." he joked, concealing the small ounce of thankfulness with it. "i'm gonna go back to sleep soon, you should try to get some too."
"yeah, right after i'm done with this book— but hold on.. what did you say about meds?"
san chuckled again, "i get it man, you don't have to hide your love and care for me."
seonghwa hummed on the other end, clearly focusing on anything but their phone conversation. "yeah, but i walked right out your apartment after i woke up. sorry i couldn't stay back and take care of you. don't know shit about meds."
strange. san furrowed his eyebrows. "but there were clearly... nevermind," he said, cutting himself off. "i'll talk to you later in the afternoon. get your ass in bed, man, this shit isn't healthy."
"says the man that likes to get drunk off his ass even though it has serious impacts on his health." seonghwa laughed at his own joke, and after a little bit of quarreling, san finally hung up the call and leaned back in his couch, staring at the ceiling light that was turned off. this left him alone with his thoughts now, and he decided to recollect the events of the hours he couldn't recall.
no one could've broken into his apartment, no, of course not. nothing was out of place except the place he was sitting in, and nothing was missing, either. he picked up a sheet of paper that was peeking out from under the million layers of blankets, further perplexed. it was a notice about some deadlocks or something, but san didn't remember seeing it before...
he leaned forward, paper still in hold, deep in thought. right after getting to his apartment, he clearly left seonghwa on the couch, or somewhere. he couldn't remember anything after that, so he probably had blacked out. there was no way he'd been out that long, right?
the vague sound of ringing lit a bulb in him, and he remembered someone being at the door, forcing him to get off the floor where he had passed out gracefully. but who was it? he did remember the sound of heavy rain at the time and the room was barely lit, so it had probably been at late evening or night.
if he'd forced himself to get up, then he'd obviously opened the door.. but to who, exactly? he picked up the post-it note once more, reading over the words again. he stared hard at the water-distorted ink on the paper, eyebrows knitting in curiosity. now that he looked at it, it was too ugly to be seonghwa's handwriting, too.
he groaned. the little bit of hangover still ingrained in his system wasn't helping and his headache was blurring his vision everytime he thought past the capacity his hangover allowed. annoyed, he squinted his eyes to focus, bringing the note close to his dry eyes.
after 3 minutes of struggling like an absolute idiot, he had an almost genius revelation as he... flipped the note to the other side.
'YOUR ANNOYED NEIGHBOR.' it read in bold, gigantic letters. "get yourself together man, not so sincerely your annoyed neighbor..." san mumbled under his breath, still lost in his train of thought a moment before a face popped into his head—the same one he'd opened the door to when he had managed to momentarily lift the vodka's spell on him.
that boy with the ponytail whose name he couldn't remember.
