When Doyun opened his eyes again, both outside the window and inside the living room had grown dim.
His thighs felt heavy where he sat, awkwardly wedged into the corner of the sofa.
He looked down to find Eunho lying there, head resting on his lap.
Even that overwhelmingly striking face — the kind that carried the distinctive, commanding presence unique to alphas — looked perfectly gentle with his eyes closed.
Doyun had been about to unconsciously reach down and brush the hair off Eunho’s forehead, but he caught himself, shook his head, and lowered his hand.
Suhyeok had appeared in the living room at some point and held out a cup of water to Doyun.
“You two still haven’t fully made up, right?”
“There’s nothing to make up. We didn’t fight — he just sulked on his own.”
Doyun took the cup and gulped down the cold water, then gestured toward Eunho’s face with his hand.
“Sa Eunho was pouring drinks down his throat earlier and kept talking about you. Said he was upset to death.”
“What on earth is he upset about…?”
How would I know, Suhyeok replied in a flat, unbothered tone.
Eunho, who didn’t usually drink much, had been throwing them back and saying he was upset — that alone seemed worth at least hearing out, but Suhyeok and Minjun clearly had no interest.
“Aren’t you curious?”
“When is it ever not the case that you two fight, avoid each other, then patch things up? Give it a week and you’ll be stuck together like gum again.”
Doyun opened his mouth to argue against Suhyeok’s words, but nothing came out.
He’d known Suhyeok and Minjun for a long time, but ever since Eunho had joined their group, Doyun had been practically attached to Eunho’s side.
Unlike Suhyeok and Minjun, who he didn’t really need to contact unless something came up, Doyun and Eunho had exchanged at least one call or text every single day even when nothing was going on. They lived in similar directions going home, attended the same study hall, and spent a lot of time together as a result.
Walking to and from school together, taking walks in the park from the study hall to clear their heads, practicing shooting goals, going out to eat good food — all sorts of small, everyday things had been shared with Eunho.
The summer break that had just passed — the long stretch where they’d barely been in contact and were apart — had been a thoroughly exceptional case.
“Minjun already claimed the small room. If you two don’t want to squeeze onto the sofa, go to Eunho’s place.”
Suhyeok yawned and jerked his chin toward Eunho.
At the sudden order to leave, Doyun floated the idea of sleeping in the master bedroom with Suhyeok, but Suhyeok shook his head immediately.
“The master bedroom—”
“Bye now.”
***
“Ugh, you’re so heavy. Seriously, your body — are you doing this on purpose?”
Doyun squeezed out every last bit of strength he had to barely manage propping Eunho up.
During the taxi ride from Suhyeok’s place, Eunho had been sitting quietly with his eyes closed, breathing steadily.
It was only a few steps, but hauling Eunho’s full weight all the way to the officetel entrance left Doyun’s breath coming out in ragged bursts, reaching right up to his chin.
“Hey, what’s your passcode?”
The weight somehow seemed to get heavier with every passing second, so Doyun set Eunho down and asked for the code while catching his breath in rough exhales.
Eunho, who had slumped down onto the steps at the officetel entrance, slowly looked up at Doyun.
A faint light filtering from inside the officetel fell across Eunho’s face — brow slightly furrowed, lip caught between his teeth.
“…This is the only way you’ll actually come over to my place.”
Eunho finished saying it, then dropped his head again.
After a brief exhale, he pushed himself to his feet, staggered to the front panel, and punched in the code.
When the door opened, Eunho slung his arm back over Doyun’s shoulder and went limp against him.
Doyun swallowed down the string of curses rising right up to his throat and steadied him.
From somewhere above, he thought he could faintly hear Eunho laughing.
They pushed through the front door and into the living room.
He’d always thought it was spacious, but tonight the hallway leading to the living room felt endlessly long.
Doyun more or less dropped Eunho onto the living room sofa and went to get a water bottle from the refrigerator.
“What were you drinking so much for — you barely drink normally.”
Doyun downed the water in big gulps, then handed the bottle, still about halfway full, to Eunho.
Eunho took it and held the mouth of the bottle against his lips for a moment before slowly drinking.
The sound of Eunho swallowing the water down echoed through the quiet living room.
Eunho set the bottle down beside him and spoke in a low, tired voice.
“No reason. I just wanted to drink tonight. I was feeling a little hurt.”
Doyun, who had been standing silently listening, let out a breath and sat down beside Eunho.
The soft fabric sofa gave a gentle puff of air, and Eunho immediately shifted close and pressed up against Doyun’s side.
Eunho reached out, wrapped one arm around Doyun’s waist, and buried his face against the back of Doyun’s neck.
“Ah, don’t touch me…”
“……”
The hand stroking along his waist and stomach was ticklish, and Doyun gave Eunho a light push.
But drunk Eunho wasn’t going anywhere.
If anything, he burrowed his face even deeper against Doyun’s neck, making the sharp smell of strong whiskey hit even harder.
No matter how much Doyun pushed, Eunho wouldn’t budge, and Doyun gave up quickly.
He lifted his hand and ran it through Eunho’s hair in rough, careless strokes.
“What are you even upset about. I’m the one who got handed a death sentence out of nowhere.”
“……”
Doyun finally let out the quiet grievance he’d been carrying inside him for a while now.
He could understand the thirty-year sentence handed to Minjun — but a death sentence for himself? Being told he had even less self-awareness than Na Minjun had put Doyun in a thoroughly sour mood.
“Honestly, why aren’t you saying anything.”
Doyun said it in a teasing tone to the silently unresponsive Eunho.
At that, Eunho lifted his face from where it had been buried in Doyun’s neck and bowed his head.
Then both of Eunho’s hands came up and dragged slowly across his own face.
A voice came out of Eunho — low and rough in a way that felt unfamiliar.
“Lately I… I don’t even know why I’m like this either…”
Eunho murmured it quietly, as if it wouldn’t matter whether Doyun heard it or not.
The lights weren’t all on, so the room was dim.
In that darkened space sat Eunho, his expression carrying a heaviness that wasn’t like him.
Doyun looked at him and asked, his tone laced with concern.
“What is it. Do you have something on your mind?”
Eunho, who had been dragging his hands over his face, lowered them and reached out to take one of Doyun’s hands.
Eunho’s hand was warm to the touch.
Whether it was because of all the alcohol, it felt even hotter than usual.
Whether trying to let something out under cover of the drink, Eunho suddenly said something that was hard to place any context around.
“I just hate everything changing… No, sometimes I wish it had all just started out completely differently from the beginning.”
“……”
“……”
Not knowing how to respond, Doyun stayed quiet, and silence settled between them.
But this silence — no words exchanged between them — didn’t feel particularly awkward.
Doyun was looking at Eunho’s long, straight fingers threading their way between his own when Eunho’s other hand came up beneath his chin.
“With you… I think I just want to stay like this.”
Eunho lightly caught Doyun’s chin and held his gaze there.
Eunho didn’t apply much pressure with his fingertips, but Doyun’s eyes were drawn to him all on their own.
With you… I think I just want to stay like this.
Doyun quietly repeated Eunho’s words to himself.
Eunho had absolutely no shame about saying things that would be embarrassing to exchange between ordinary friends. Doyun had wondered at first if it was because Eunho had grown up abroad and was more accustomed to expressing his feelings — but it seemed like it was simply just who Eunho was.
The flustered embarrassment that Eunho’s cringe-worthy words stirred up always landed squarely on Doyun alone.
Doyun let his gaze drift slightly away from Eunho’s and brought up Suhyeok and Minjun.
“What about Suhyeok and Minjun.”
At Doyun’s words, Eunho made a low hmm sound as if thinking it over, and patted Doyun’s shoulder.
Eunho rested his head against Doyun’s shoulder again.
Glancing down, Doyun caught a faint smile on Eunho’s face.
It was meant to be an answer to Doyun’s question, but Eunho seemed perfectly fine with Doyun not catching it — he hummed a little melody under his breath as he spoke.
“Don’t need them… they’re… our supporting cast.”
As he said it, Eunho pointed his finger back and forth between Doyun’s face and his own.
“What are you on about…”
“Drunk words are honest words.”
Doyun let out a soft ugh and pried Eunho off himself, pushing the dead weight leaning into him back.
When Doyun shoved with some force, Eunho toppled over backward with no resistance.
Doyun looked over in surprise, and Eunho smiled — soft and a little dopey.
“What are you smiling like a loose screw for.”
The moment Doyun said that, Eunho suddenly sat up, pushed Doyun down onto the sofa, and climbed on top of him.
Eunho had Doyun’s body bracketed between his knees, and pressed both palms against Doyun’s cheeks.
He bumped his forehead lightly against Doyun’s, then pulled back and narrowed his eyes.
“…Men are absolutely off the table. Doyun, keep your head on straight.”
Eunho’s hands slid from Doyun’s cheeks down to his neck, then gripped both of his shoulders.
Keep your head on straight — and then Eunho grabbed Doyun by the shoulders and shook him.
He was really and truly drunk.
Serious one moment, then breezy, then down, then grinning to himself — Doyun watched Eunho swing between extremes and reached out a palm to lightly tap Eunho on the cheek.
