"You’re drunk," he said.
"I’ve always been," Seungho murmured. "Since the first time I saw you. You just keep changing names."
Haneul froze and the unexpected confession.
But he didn’t move away, until someone yanked him towards the living room for “one last dance before the party is over”.
??????
The last of the glitter had settled.
It was nearly four in the morning. The fog machine had choked out its final hiss hours ago. Ji-ho had been peeled off the floor by Jaewan and shoved into a cab with two drag queens, still arguing about whether Haneul was a hallucination or a genderless prophecy.
Even Cha Yul had left, giving Haneul a subtle nod and mouthing “You did well” before disappearing into the elevator like a shadow that knew when to leave the stage.
The penthouse was wrecked. Not ruined—but reshaped. Skewers abandoned in a vase. Empty soju bottles lined up on the piano. A half-melted candle stuck to a tray of uneaten tteok. The whole space smelled like sugar, sweat, cheap perfume, and exhaustion.
And in the center of it all—
Seungho.
Slumped on the couch, shirt rumpled, tie discarded. Hair a mess. Eyes glazed with a softness that didn’t belong to him. Not in daylight. Not in boardrooms. Not in war.
Haneul moved carefully.
He was still humming under his breath, a lazy, unscripted tune that had no melody. He walked through the space, braid unlit now, but damp from sweat and effort. His eyeliner had smudged into a shadow that made his eyes look bruised, but he didn’t care. He looked like a godling carved from hangover and mischief.
He leaned over the back of the couch.
“You alive, old man?”
A low sound. Half a growl, half a sigh.
Seungho turned his head. One crimson-gold eye found him.
“You threw a war,” he mumbled.
“I threw a party.”
“Same thing.”
Haneul grinned handsomely. “You liked it.”
Silence.
Then, hoarse: “I didn’t hate it.”
Haneul came around the side and sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing him.
“You’re drunk, which is... unusual.”
“I know.”
“You’re gonna feel like death in the morning.”
“Already do.”
A beat.
