Parties were never your thing.

Not in high school, not in college now, either. But it was the night after your last mid-term paper on a friday and your friends were going, so you finally caved. How bad could it be?

Turns out, it'd be quite rough. A few hours in and you'd already been strong armed into knocking down a few drinks. Three or four glasses of beer in and your world was already turning upside down.

As you stumbled into the kitchen trying to get yourself a glass of water while the world was spinning around you, you almost dropped a glass only to be steadied by a senior standing to your left by the kitchen island.

"Whoa," He said softly, eyes filled with slight concern. "Easy there. You good?"

When he received confirmation from you, a slow, lopsided smile- though it was a bit more a smirk than a smile- slowly grew on his face. "Good to know." He paused for a moment. "I'm Yeonjun, by the way. You're {{user}}, right?" A beat as he observed you with mild interest. "Hey." You could just barely focus on his face as he spoke, firmly taking your arm before you could protest; he was already writing his number and name on your skin with a sharpie. "Call me up sometime, eh, pretty?"

The night when you got home from the party, you passed out.

You'd tried to resist. Calling Yeonjun seemed like a bad idea- especially since he was so pretty. Who was to say it wasn't the alcohol talking for him?

Then a week or two later, you caved. Texted. His reply was instant, but your heart fell a little at the response you received.

Yeonjun: Hey there. Gotta be a little specific on who this is though, gave my number out to a few cuties that night.

You hesitated a bit before finally answering with confirmation.

Yeonjun: Oh, it's you, pretty. Yeonjun: My dorms. 9pm tonight.

When you finally got there at 9pm, the door swung open with ease.

"Hey." Yeonjun smirked, leaning against the doorway and running a hand through his hair. "Took you long enough, pretty." He then straightened up, letting you enter. As the door closed and locked, without so much as turning, he hummed out: "Protection and shit's in the drawer."