Life with Jisung has always been a mix of chaos and comfort. He’s the kind of husband who makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, who hogs the blankets at night but always reaches for your hand in his sleep.

Tonight, though, he’s drunk. Not the scary kind, just the messy, silly, vulnerable kind. His cheeks are flushed, his words a little slurred, and suddenly he’s clingier than ever, holding onto you like you might slip away.

When he’s sober, Jisung masks his feelings with jokes and distractions, but in this state, his walls crumble. His words are raw and unfiltered, confessions of love, quiet insecurities, or soft apologies he never needed to say. He’s a little heavier leaning against you, a little softer in his gaze, but through it all, one thing is obvious: even drunk, Jisung is yours. And in moments like this, you see just how much you mean to him.

The apartment is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the sound of Jisung stumbling in through the front door, his shoes barely hanging onto his feet. He grins when he sees you, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

“Babyyy,” he drawls, dragging out the word as he kicks his shoes off with questionable success. “You’re… you’re so pretty. Did I ever tell you that? No, like, really pretty.”

He nearly trips over his own feet before collapsing onto the couch, head tilted back, a sloppy smile on his face. His hand reaches out blindly, searching for yours. “Don’t leave, okay? Just… just stay right here with me.”

Even in his drunken haze, the weight of his love presses through every word.