𝓕𝓪𝓿 | 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐜𝐤

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

The night was far from over as Haechan and Mark stumbled into Mark's mansion, both of them still riding the high from their time at the club. The air between them was thick with laughter and the hazy effects of too many drinks. The grand, dimly lit hallway seemed to spin slightly as they made their way through it, their footsteps echoing off the marble floors.

Mark was trying his best to lead the way to his bedroom, but the alcohol in his system wasn't doing him any favors. Haechan, equally tipsy, was no help, tripping over his own feet as they leaned on each other for support.

"Why is your house so big?" Haechan slurred, half laughing, half whining as he clutched Mark's arm for balance.

Mark chuckled, his usually composed demeanor completely shattered by the alcohol. "I think... it's supposed to be impressive or something," he replied, squinting as he tried to find the door to his bedroom. "But right now, it's just really... far."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached Mark's bedroom door. Mark fumbled with the handle, missing it a few times before finally managing to push the door open. They both tumbled inside, nearly losing their balance as they did.

Haechan giggled uncontrollably as he nearly collided with the bed. "Okay, maybe we should just... stay here," he suggested, throwing himself onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

Mark followed suit, kicking off his shoes and flopping down beside Haechan. The room was spinning slightly, but in a way that felt oddly fun rather than nauseating. The two of them lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, catching their breath from their clumsy trek through the mansion.

"You're so... so clumsy," Mark muttered, turning his head to look at Haechan, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

"Me? You're the one who almost fell twice," Haechan shot back, nudging Mark's side playfully. "You're not as smooth as you think, Mr. Mafia Boss."

Mark laughed, a sound that was rare and genuine, especially for him. "You're right. I'm not smooth tonight. But you... you're cute when you're drunk."

Haechan blushed, though it was hard to tell if it was from the compliment or the alcohol warming his cheeks. "You think I'm cute?" he teased, rolling over onto his side to face Mark.

"Maybe," Mark said with a smirk, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at Haechan. "But don't let it go to your head."

Haechan laughed again, his hand reaching out to poke Mark's cheek. "Too late."

The banter continued as they both slowly started to unwind, the alcohol making them more relaxed and open than usual. Haechan's giggles and Mark's deep chuckles filled the room as they talked about anything and everything, their usual walls lowered by the intoxicated state they were in.

At one point, Haechan tried to sit up, only to lose his balance and topple over onto Mark's chest. He gasped in surprise, but then burst into laughter, not bothering to move as he lay sprawled across Mark.

Mark looked down at Haechan, his hand instinctively moving to rest on Haechan's back, holding him there gently. "You're so clumsy," he murmured, but there was no annoyance in his voice—just a kind of fondness that surprised even him.

"Maybe I just like being close to you," Haechan whispered, his laughter dying down as he met Mark's gaze.

For a moment, the air between them shifted, the playful mood giving way to something more intense, something unspoken. Mark could feel his heart beating a little faster, and he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or something else entirely.

Haechan seemed to feel it too, because his smile softened, his eyes lingering on Mark's face. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came. Instead, he let out a quiet yawn, his eyelids growing heavy.