♡ A story about learning to love, learning to hurt, learning to 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥 ― and most importantly, learning to be human. ♡
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 4x
Marino Hills, California in the mid-2000s is hypersensitive to the idea of change. It clings desperately t...
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THE SUMMER OF 2006 Brunch at Blossom Delights
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In his entire sixteen years of living, Jisung Han had not gotten drunk, or even tasted alcohol once.
There's a distinct reason why the law states that people mustn't drink until they're twenty-one or older. That reason is simply because teenagers are underdeveloped both psychologically and physically to deal with the jarring effect of alcohol.
As Jisung lies, curled up in Felix Lee's bed, he starts to understand the law a little more.
He awakes to a world of suffering, despite the morning light cheerily filtering through Felix's curtains.
Ugh.
A dull throb pounds incessantly inside his head, echoing with each beat of his heart. It's as if a thousand tiny hammers are hacking away, constructing his skull into a deformed sculpture. It hurts. The room spins around him—a nauseating carousel moving along a disoriented pathway.
What the hell happened last night?
A dryness envelops his mouth, his tongue swollen, and his throat paralleling that of a hot, Saharan desert.
Ugh...
Felix grumbles next to him, the two beyond cramped in his less-than-ideal sized bed. Jisung's sticky with sweat, uncomfortable with morning breath, and wounded from a splitting headache.
This morning couldn't get any worse.
Oh.
Actually, it could.
Jisung's stomach churns with a malevolent force, as if a literal hurricane has taken residence within him. Waves of nausea crash against his hardly awake consciousness, spiking bile in his throat.
With the strength of an infant, he rolls over and stumbles off the bed, nearly taking a spill on the wooden floor below. He rushes into the adjacent bathroom, barely having enough time to fling open the toilet seat before his insides decide to evacuate.
Ew.
It's only after a few moments of vomiting into the toilet that Jisung is made hyperaware of the discomfort in his muscles. Every joint throbs with an inexplicable soreness, as if he'd been jumped the night before; subjected to a merciless marathon; or sparred in a grueling battle.
He then decides: Yeah, hangovers suck.
"Ugh," Jisung groans, clutching his head for dear life (lest he let go and it collapses into pieces).
