tipsy || jongsang

⋆｡tipsy *･ﾟ.・

ON A SILENT WINTER MIDNIGHT, jongho found himself digging through a drunken yeosang's pocket.

a slack arm was slung around his shoulder as he tried to fish for the keys to yeosang's apartment. the questionable pair stood by the door to the latter's home, one frustratingly searching for keys among pockets filled with trash, the other barely holding himself up and humming loudly to an unidentifiable tune.

yeosang was clinging to jongho for support, ready to topple any moment.

jongho, on the other hand, was growing a collection of gum wrappers, receipts and messily scrawled notes.

what the heck? how did he even fit all of this trash into his pockets?

after finally getting his hands on the keys, he tried all the different keys till he got the right one. he pushed the door open and dragged drunken yeosang in.

random articles of clothing were strewn across the room. pillows were on the floor. cups were lined up by the sink, and a curtain was drawn, letting in dim moonlight. from somewhere in the small apartment, he could even hear a tap dripping.

typical yeosang probably would have told him something along the lines of "welcome to my humble abode. make yourself comfy as best you can among the mess", but alas—yeosang had already passed out, strewn across the couch, somehow still humming softly. jongho sighed as he shut the door.

earlier that day, wooyoung announced to their group chat of eight that he had gotten a pay raise, and coincidentally, hongjoong got promoted at work as well. jongho recalled the texts.

mingi
how are we going to celebrate..?

yunho
LETS GO DRINKINGGGG AND GET WASTEDD 🍻🍻🍻🍻
WOOYOUNG AND HONGJOONG ARE PAYINGGGGG 🎉🎉

seonghwa
no. please. it's going to be mess.

san
wHaTeVEr, mOMmMMmMmm

seonghwa was notably not present to the gathering. jongho almost wished that he never came either.

almost.

while he did have to put up with the antics of loud and drunk young men, he was rewarded with two free drinks and most importantly got to see yeosang.

you see, jongho had developed a crush on yeosang. it was an odd feeling—he never quite knew what it felt like to have a crush, his last being when he was eleven. but based on how his heart seemingly took flight whenever yeosang laughed and how jongho seemed to be completely infatuated with him, he deduced that he, in fact, had fallen head over heels for yeosang.

honestly, he didn't know if it truly was love. he didn't understand his heart, for it spoke no intelligible language—it knew only want and desire, and conveyed itself only in the vivid illustrations of his imagination. a picture is worth a thousand words, but what words were there to be understood when all he saw in his heart was yeosang?

after realizing that he had been standing by the doorway with yeosang's trash still in his hand, jongho took another glance at the place. screw it, i'll just clean it and leave. after he went to throw away the findings of yeosang's pockets, he tidied up yeosang's apartment. he took out the trash, washed the coffee-stained mugs, put away yeosang's books and papers in a neat stack.

glancing at the apartment, he thought that his job was done—take drunken yeosang home, get him settled, clean his place and leave. yet he didn't want to leave.

once again, he glanced at yeosang. he was still in his bulky coat. that can't be comfortable, jongho thought.

he took off yeosang's coat for him, trying not to wake up the sleeping boy.