It almost worked

Chapter 7- Have we met before?

          ୨⎯ Chapter 7- Have we met before? ⎯୧

The morning after was always the hardest. My head throbbed like a drum, each beat reminding me of last night's chaos—Dal's teasing, the bar,

the fight, and his endless flirting that made my heart do things it wasn't supposed to. And then, of course, the moment when he collapsed into my lap on the couch, his drunken confession hanging in the air between us. It had been... overwhelming.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to push the images of Dal from my mind. Trying to figure out what I was supposed to feel about him.

Had I really enjoyed last night? Was I crazy for letting him get so close to me?

I could still feel the lingering warmth of his breath against my skin when he leaned in to whisper those ridiculous, flirtatious lines. He'd acted like he owned the night—and, in a way, he kind of did.

But did I want to admit that I was somehow caught up in it? That I, too, had been pulled into the gravitational pull of his confidence, his charm, his chaos?

"Y/N? You awake?"

Dal's voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts.

I groaned, turning over in bed, my face buried in the pillow. "Please don't tell me you're already ready to drag me somewhere else."

I heard his footsteps moving around, the sound of him rummaging through the kitchen. "Come on. I'm already dressed. I got us breakfast. You gonna lie in bed all day or are we gonna do something today?"

My heart skipped at the mention of breakfast. Despite everything—despite how irritating Dal was, how unpredictable and reckless he could be—he always came through with these little gestures.

And they were starting to chip away at my resolve, the little walls I'd built around my feelings.

I pulled myself up, still feeling the weight of the night before, and slowly made my way to the kitchen. Dal was sitting at the counter, looking annoyingly fresh for someone who had partied hard the night before.

His hair was messy in that perfect way, and he was wearing his usual hoodie and jeans, but today it seemed like it didn't matter—he just looked... effortlessly cool.

He had coffee waiting for me, a plate of pancakes stacked high, syrup already drizzled over them. "Thought I'd treat you this time," Dal said,

his eyes glinting with mischief. "Consider it my way of apologizing for last night."

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. "For what? Beating up some guy in the bar?"

Dal grinned. "No, no, I meant for all the flirting." He leaned back in his chair, clearly waiting for a reaction. "I may have gone a little overboard, huh?"

I grabbed a pancake and took a bite, trying not to let my smile show. "Maybe just a little."

Dal's grin grew wider, his eyes never leaving me. "So you didn't totally hate it then?"

I looked up at him, trying to keep my face neutral. "Why don't you just get to the point, Dal?"

He leaned forward, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something a little more serious, though still wrapped in that familiar confidence. "You know, last night, when I said some things... I meant them." His voice softened slightly, just enough for me to notice the shift.