Drunk | SeongJoong

3

If he had been in his right mind, he would've avoided coming here this late at night.

Well, he wasn't sure how late it was, but judging by the little traffic and how dark it was outside, it should be around midnight.

This was probably a bad idea.

Even in his state now, he knew that.

The porch was dark until he walked up to the front door, the motion detector instantly switching on the light to lead the way.

He knew he didn't even walk a straight line while looking down, his fists clutching the fabric of his jacket's pockets.

He came to a halt when he walked up the two steps to his front door, his hand automatically reaching out to ring his doorbell.

But before he could do that, his mind stopped his hand as it hung now loosely in the air, hovering just above Seonghwa's doorbell.

He took a deep breath, noticed that the world turned a bit and stumbled to the side, his other hand now instantly steadying him at the milk glass that protected the front door from noisy neighbors.

And just as he thought about how stupid he was for almost slipping in front of Seonghwa's door, he realized he accidentally rang the doorbell.

He steadied himself, bracing for what was about to come, hoping that Seonghwa was deep in his slumber.

But he thought wrong because as he wanted to turn around and almost stumbled again, the door was suddenly pulled open and a worried Seonghwa looked at him, shock all over his face as his lips parted.

Hongjoong resisted the urge to surge forward and cover his gaping lips with his own, deciding to gulp down the lump starting to form in his throat.

Seonghwa just stared, then blinked and shook his head, clearing his throat, worry still evident in his big, perfect eyes.

"Do you know what time it is, Hongjoong?," he asked, tilting his head.

From any normal person, that question would've sounded angry, annoyed or weirded out.

But Seonghwa's tone told him that the older was concerned.

Hongjoong stayed quiet as Seonghwa looked behind him, moving closer to get a better look.

"Did you come alone?"

Again, Hongjoong didn't answer, just nodded only slightly.

He must've noticed his swaying and the evident smell of alcohol and probably also the cheap perfume all over him because he looked almost panicked now.

"What are you doing here, drunk nonetheless?" He tried again, and there was nothing but silence between them.

"Joong? Answer me, please."

He sounded nervous, concerned.

And before Hongjoong could even think about what he was doing, he leaned closer, their faces only inches apart now, his eyes drawn to Seonghwa's lips as he finally spoke.

And maybe he shouldn't have spoken.

"I love you, Seonghwa. So much," he blurted out, only above a whisper.

And he regretted it just seconds after.

Because he didn't know what reaction he expected, but this wasn't it.

His heart felt like it was ripped out, drenched and put back in his chest again when Seonghwa did nothing but step back and avoided his gaze.

"You're drunk," Seonghwa said, his eyes darting everywhere except Hongjoong. His arms wrapped around his slim torso, his white shirt surely wrinkled now with how strong his grip became. "Go home, Hongjoong. We'll talk in the morning."

He looked sad.

Why was he sad?

Hongjoong gulped down, his mind spinning and heart racing.

He had just confessed to the person he'd been in love with for years. A man, nonetheless.

It was hopeless to wait for a confession back, he knew that much. But he still hoped his heart wouldn't ache as much as it did at the rejection from Seonghwa.

He thought that maybe, yeah, maybe he could move on after finally getting rejected.

So, he just turned around, cautious not to tumble down the few steps and onto the porch.

And as soon as he was at a safe distance from his house, his vision became foggy, his hands shaking and he clutched the fabric of his black shirt above his heart.

Perhaps to try and stop the aching of it, or maybe to stop it from bleeding.

He didn't know how he found his way home but as soon as his feet hit familiar ground right after closing the door, he fell down onto his knees, gasping for air as the tears rolled down his cheeks in a silent cry for help.

He should've known better.

He should've never let his emotions get the better of him.

Didn't he learn from his mistakes?

Didn't he learn not to show all of himself to people?

But there was nothing he could do about it now.

His heart was bared open and stepped upon.

He could be mad at Seonghwa for reacting the way he did.

But it would be wrong.

Hongjoong made a mistake.

Seonghwa only let him down slowly.

He knew that Seonghwa could've reacted much worse.

He could've called him names, just like his parents did.

He could've not only emotionally but also physically hurt him.

He could've ended their friendship right then and there.

Instead, he said they would talk the day after.

The fear of talking about what happened sobered him up enough to think about what he had done.

But there was something inside him that was happy about their remaining friendship.

Maybe they could work through this.

Hongjoong just needed to put some distance between them.

That was all it would take.

They wouldn't need to throw all the good memories they shared away.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that they wouldn't talk for a while the next few days, if not weeks or months.

Because something big like that wasn't something that could just be looked over.

They couldn't just act like nothing happened.

Another thick tear ran down his cheek as he remembered how hurt Seonghwa looked after his confession.

He was sure that Seonghwa had heard many confessions in his life before.

Probably by all the female friends he had in highschool or middle school.

But hearing one from his best friend - the one person he should be able to trust and the one person that should never catch feelings for the other - was probably a disappointment.

The thick silence that engulfed him in his apartment made him feel claustrophobic.

The only sounds breaking it were his now frequent sobs.

"I'm sorry I failed you," he whispered to no one in particular, the cold parquet floor making a shiver run down his spine as the temperature creeped through his clothes.

Maybe it was meant to apologize to Seonghwa.

Perhaps to his parents.

But mostly, probably, to himself.