Strangers || Stray Kids Hyunho (Hyunjin x Minho)

I || Waking Up

Minho should have known. He knew exactly that he couldn't handle alcohol. One bottle Soju -even the lighter kind- and he was done for... Still.. this evening it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. His heart was broken... shattered into pieces and the only thing that came into his mind that could help had been alcohol.

Don't drink alone, at least that advice he had still followed.

Choi Sangmin opened the fourth green bottle with a crack and a wide crooked smile. Both of them were incredibly drunk, though the brunette was the only that had problems to keep himself upright. His eyes got heavier and heavier with each new shot glass. The translucent liquid was steadily refilling.

‚Drink up, Minho-ya! You aren't the sentimental one..' Sangmin exclaimed, filling his glass eagerly. ‚After this evening, you'll have forgotten her! She wasn't worth it anyways!!'

For a drunk person, it was incredible easy to understand what he was saying. He hadn't even tried. He just looked at him, trying his best to not pass out on the spot. Minho's head was spinning like crazy.. or was it the world around him? His head rested on his hand, heavy and weak. The tears from before had almost dried out. Actually in that moment, his head was just empty. He couldn't find the thing anymore that he had been crying about. There was nothing.

Wanting to drink with his best friend Sangmin, seemed now like the worst idea he's ever had.

His head and his whole body became heavier with every minute. When the fifth green bottle was cracked open his head became too heavy for his hand to carry, so it crashed onto the table, leaving him in a senseless, black nimbus.

_______________

He felt warmth first as he slowly came to his senses again. There was a warmth surrounding him from top to bottom. His whole body was relaxed and calm. Minho had his eyes still closed, as tiredness was still hanging heavy on them.

A blanket was pulled up to his torso snuggly and comfy. But the source of the most heat came from his pillow. It was so wonderfully curved, that he snuggled even further into it, like some kind of cat. He didn't want to get up. The brunette's hand moved along the length of the pillow, searching for the perfect resting point as it struck on something smooth. Something very smooth and warm. He carefully explored the new sensation further, traveling up.

It was weird ... smooth, warm and wavy, moving up and down repeatedly. Suddenly his fingertips brushed over a small little dent. What on earth was that? It definitely wasn't his... or any pillow he was lying on...

Carefully he forced his eyes open. The bright light that shone through the windows stung in his still sore eyes. Blinking several times he slowly adjusted to the brightness around him.

Looking to where his hand was resting, he felt his heart turnover. His hand was resting on a pale, well defined chest, that definitely wasn't his own. Minho jumped up, eyes widening. They widened even further, when the situation he was in became clearer and clearer to him.

There wasn't someone lying on his bedding, what he had feared at first... no .. it was worse. He was in the apartment of someone else, laying on the bedding of someone else, next to... or well... on someone else. After his eyes stopped jumping around the unfamiliar room around him, they landed on the owner of it.

A pale boy, with long, peach-blonde hair, that was falling slightly messed up in and around his admittedly very handsome face. The next thing he noticed was actually the first thing he had noticed. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Gulping Minho looked down at himself.