pancakes [yooran oneshot]

One

Yoosung's nervous gaze flitted around the club, the loud music obscenely different from the blaring heroic fanfares in his headphone's speakers as he played LOLOL.

Saeyoung was busy dancing with his girlfriend on the dancefloor, but Yoosung was a completely awkward third wheel, having nothing to do.

He had just turned 21, so Saeyoung had decided to take him to his first club. However, Yoosung was uncomfortable among the throbbing dancers around him.

He carefully slid past them to the bar where he ordered a shot, still nervous about drinking alcohol which led him to evidently flashing his ID three times to the neon bartender.

He unceremoniously sipped at the drink and coughed slightly, the bitter taste swelling down his throat. It was incredibly strong, and it tasted like sweetened smoke, but Yoosung liked the idea of being a man, finally, so he ordered two more and downed them quicker.

He blinked rapidly as the dizziness and bad decisions set in, his tolerance level feebly low. Suddenly, he spotted a figure dancing with the rest of the crowd, slowly swaying with the beat.

His white hair was brilliant in the strobe, wearing a red tank top and black jeans, his hoodie cast aside. Yoosung's drunk heart beat faster at the sight of the stranger.

He slowly made his way to the man, who looked angelic in the flashing stobe. Pushing through the crowded bodies, all as equally drunk as he, he approached the beautiful being, who turned at the feel on Yoosung's hand on his shoulder.

His eyes widened, then he blinked slowly, head pounding with the bass. "Hello..." Yoosung said, his voice dropped an octave.

"Hello," the stranger's voice was sweetly gravely, and made everything turn upsidedown with the smell of red velvet cupcakes that Yoosung suddenly remembered eating this morning at Jaehee's cafe.

The weird sensation left everything just slightly blurry, but the stranger took Yoosung's hands and placed them on his hips, then reached up and unclipped the barretts from his hair, tousling the blonde locks so he looked just a few years older, his violet eyes wide with drunken awe.

And then they danced until Yoosung couldn't see straight, the stranger's waist and cool hands on his neck and through his hair the only thing helping him cling to reality and consciousness.

He feared that if he let go, he would fall so far away that he'd never be able to tell the stranger just how much his teal-y minty eyes made Yoosung's knees weak, how his jawline looked sharp enough to cut, how his cheeks flushed pink when he allowed Yoosung to reach up and whisper drunk nothings in his ear.

Yoosung vaguely heard the stranger, who he found was named Saeran, say that he was going to get them more drinks, and Yoosung tilted his head, but then realized that this would mean letting go of his grip on Saeran's tank top.

He slowly nodded, ghosting his hand up Saeran's arm to his bicep, with felt strong and musculary, then reluctantly let go, eyes drifting to the DJ atop his podium in the front.

"Stay here," Saeran's voice was a car on a gravel driveway, drifting away with the rumble crumble crunch of his words.

And then he slipped away, Yoosung grinning as he waved lazily at 707 and his girl, who were kissing against a pillar on the other side of the club.

Yoosung waited obediently, but soon three songs had passed and his heart was beating thu-thump thu-thump where is saeran thu-thump. Maybe he had lost his way? Yoosung didn't know, but let his body pass through the crowd, mind wondering where oh where.

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, and it swayed to the thu-thump thu-thump of his drunk, drunk heart. Saeran... his stomach turned, and he looked around. Where was he? Yoosung pouted. He didn't leave... did he?