𝐌𝐫. 𝐊𝐢𝐦

19

One innocent glass of Champagne has miraculously turned into two, three, and four by the time the clock hits 2 a.m. What began as a casual conversation between you and Namjoon in his parents' kitchen has devolved into muffled laughter and minor bickering. The topic of your love life unexpectedly resurfaced as you both reminisced about your days as two hardworking individuals.

It wasn't your idea. Namjoon suddenly brought up his recent breakup, and he was starting to open up to you about it when something twisted in his mind, and he decided to just leave it be.

With your small hands intertwined, the back of your knees resting against the cold surface as you swing your legs freely off the counter, you were anticipating his next words.

"Do you still think Champagne won't make you drunk?" He asks smugly, recalling the many times you've told him about Champagne not counting as 'alcohol'.

Namjoon crosses his right foot in front of the other as he stands right across from you, his back against the fridge. Shrugging, you say, "People drink it like water at all the parties I've gone to."

"It still has alcohol in it," Namjoon shakes his head and looks at you in disbelief. Maybe you're just saying anything at this point. You don't even like alcohol, yet you're forcing it into your system.

"Then why am I not drunk?" You raise your glass cockily. Namjoon stands in front of you in an attempt to stop you from pouring another.

"Seriously, Y/N, get down from there. I don't want you to hurt yourself," Namjoon chastises. He bunches his cuffs up his elbows as you tail every movement of his bulging veins and gobble another liquid down your throat.

He's anxious just by looking at your body swaying dangerously close to the edge. You slowly straighten yourself. Namjoon cringes and rushes to your aid in case you fall off, but before he can get to you, you're already making your way back to the dining table, grinning sheepishly as he frowns at your actions.

"You've had enough to drink." Namjoon reaches for the empty bottle in front of you and attempts to take your full glass. But instead of seizing it from your grasp, he accidentally knocks it down with his elbows.

You both gasp, Namjoon cursing under his breath like a child caught after a late-night snack. "Oh, shit," he steps back, panicking as he watches you flip the tablecloth from underneath the long wooden table to prevent it from spilling all over the floor. Thankfully, the fabric is thick enough to absorb it, doing less damage to your dress.

When you look down at your chest to check, Namjoon respectively tears his gaze away.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I should've just kept my distance," he mutters, frustration in his tone. His eyes are glued to the white walls, so he has no clue if you're upset with him based on your expression. Though he knows you aren't. Knows you aren't capable of keeping anger towards him for long; he just wants to hear you reassure him, comfort him like you usually do when he messes things up. Doesn't need your validation, but your guarantee - some kind of promise he can hold onto. Because he's not sure if you'll be around for long.