Even if he didn’t look it, Jooheon was the worst at holding his liquor. A couple glasses of soju and he was talking too loud, laughing too much, and much too comfortable. He’d hang off Minhyuk’s shoulder and vie for the attention of his bandmates or whoever else they were drinking with. He wanted to talk, about everything or nothing at all, as long as you were engaging with him somehow he was happy. So happy that his intoxicated eyes would fall shut as a smile spread wide across his face, making his dimples more obvious.
She watched, probably at the same level as him. Not really drunk, but not really sober either. It was the happy medium people fought to maintain on a long night out, the place where your head swims pleasantly and everything is right in the world. Your limbs feel lighter and your laugh comes out without hesitation or a careful hand to conceal your insecurity.
It was the best place to be, and she was right there with him. It was also the place where secret thoughts floated to the surface, dipping in and out of the wave’s edge, just there in the distance and you didn’t fight as hard to keep it all down. One of these bobbers plopped to the top of her mind, how she wished he was wanting for her attention instead of his members.
He’d passed her once that night; eyes creased in a constant grin as he poked her cheek with his finger and moved on. She didn’t question the strange and adorable gesture because he was just being him, except a slightly more inebriated him.
The night wore on, and the common area they occupied began to thin out. It was getting late, people were getting tired or knew they needed to get home or had drunk too much. She was still there, in that room and still wading in her mind, but knew she was close to leaving herself. It was getting dangerous to be there, because that post-party pity was setting in, the one that blooms out of loneliness after a couple drinks and that feeling when what you want to happen doesn’t happen.
After her friends left she found herself sinking into the couch, tapping through her phone with her other arm crossed over her stomach, killing time until it felt right to say her goodbyes and hail a cab outside.
A body fell into the cushions beside her and she looked up, first at Jooheon next to her, then behind him to the now empty room. She hadn’t even realized the other guys had gone to bed and the rest of the stragglers had gone home.
“Oh, sorry, I should be going.”
“Wait” Jooheon mumbled, almost more sleepy than drunk. In one swift motion his head fell onto her shoulder and she jumped at the contact, every muscle in her body tensing.
“You don’t have to leave yet.” He mumbled again.
A small, shy laugh escaped her and she relaxed back into the couch.
“You haven’t talked to me all night, and suddenly you want me to stay?”
She had intended that to sound lighthearted, but her wounded ego made it sound a little bitterer. She couldn’t help it. Any other time of day or place and Jooheon would be acting like her best friend, chatting her up and joking with her. Once in a social setting, he’d barely spoken to her and she was more upset than she’d like to admit, and not all because she knew, deep down, she liked him more than a friend.
“What?” He asked, raising his head a bit, sleepy eyed and soft.
“Forget it, I should go.”
