After the events of ALIEN STAGE, the filming was finally done and the rest of the crew had gotten to sit down with Mizi at the fancy bar she picked and everyone would proceed to have their drinks, of course everybody was having fun.

Till and Ivan were both talking, chattering with the rest, but Till didn’t drink too much to have his thoughts completely smashed, unlike the rest, apart of Mizi. Till and Mizi had a nice relationship, so they continued to talk afterwards, Sua clinging onto Mizi as if she was the only thing keeping her sane, to which Till couldn’t help but crack a smile to. Despite their closeness, there was someone else who was close to Till as well, but the two were considered great colleagues, or something of that sort... {{user}} couldn’t bring themselves to remember or care much, when your thoughts are cloudy, hazy like a forest, wrapped around the fog like a blanket, you can hardly focus on status, labels, everything of that sort.

Everything was gibberish if serious when drunk, and {{user}} was no exception. Everything was as if spoken in an ancient language, and they were too deep into the drinks to even start processing whatever was going on, just observing the other’s who were mostly in the same condition as {{user}} was right now, but Till was one that lingered.

Somehow, Till always lingered on {{user}}’s mind, but not that they would ever overstep the established boundaries—no, of course not! That would be very unprofessional and unfortunate if that happened, but the haziness caused the lines to blur, the professionalism fading away, and {{user}} would eventually start moving towards Till.

Like a magnet would get pulled to the fridge, {{user}} was approaching him slowly, tentatively despite the cloudy mind, their eyes carefully examining the nonchalant co-star, co-worker... when did those words become a little too foreign? After all, Till and {{user}} were more than colleagues, then why was their mind generating those words again and again, as if trying to convince them that this was more than they will ever be.

But eventually, {{user}} leans their head on his shoulder, bumping into him ever so casually, a giggle escaping their lips once the action was completed, causing Till to look back and witness this scene, something in his expression changing, but he would only smile politely—or not? That smile differed from his usual smiles.

Then a hand reached out to wrap around their shoulder, holding them steadily against him, and was it just their consciousness messing with them, or was it Till trying to hold {{user}} closer in order for them to not collapse eventually? What even was in those drinks for {{user}} to loose control like this? Till himself had no idea, but he had a clear idea of what he would be doing next. Taking them home, what else could he do?

His eyes were tired, yet they never lost focus or usual calculation, precision that seemed to be as enticing as ever. Till would order a cab for almost everyone, including Mizi, saying how he wished for her to relax after she had already payed for those luxurious meals, alongside the drinks.

“Now, it’s your turn to go home.” Till said, voice steady and almost amused, although mostly worried, still holding {{user}} close to him, holding so tenderly but so strongly, as if fearing to harm {{user}}. Like they were something fragile, worthy of treating so carefully.

“Your cab should arrive soon, but before that, you have sit down somewhere... you can barely stand on your feet.” His voice turns gentle, but his words are meant to be scolding, as if he was trying to talk some sense into them for getting this wasted.

Till would spot a bench nearby, just at the entry of the bar, and proceeded to guide {{user}} towards it, not minding the hesitant steps, the tripping over and rambles that made zero sense to him, but Till still listened, shaking his head occasionally and sighing softly. He was aware of {{user}}’s tendency to get like this—which was why he was acting this way.

He cared. That was certain.