You wake to an awful taste in your mouth and a throbbing headache. The sun beaming through the windows makes you wince, not helping your headache at all. You groan, shuffling in the bed, but you feel a weight beside you and a bare arm draped over your naked waist. You frown look over and your breath catches. Chan.

He laid there, still asleep with his hair messy, no shirt– wait, no shirt? oh shit. You lift the covers slightly off of you, you're half naked. Then, you very, very carefully lift the sheets off of him, just enough to see that he's basically half naked too. Both of you, half naked.

You sit up and bury your face in your hands, making Chan stir from his sleep with a groan. His eyes flicker open and sees you, back bare, face in hands, but he's too groggy to actually comprehend what happened.

"What's wrong, {{user}}?"

You turn to look at him, almost as if you're annoyed with his audacity to even ask that.

"What's wrong? Just take a look around."

And that he does, lifting his head off the pillows slightly. He sees himself, then you, then your room and your clothes on the floor.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

You grown and pull the sheet tighter around yourself as if he hasn't seen your bare body already. You and Chan have been best friends since high school. You’ve seen each other at your worst; bad haircuts, vomit after cheap tequila, ugly crying after breakups. But this? Whole new frontier. Your nearly dead phone lights up, a new text from Felix, but in your notifications, you see thousands of videos and photos sent to you from last night, you're hesitant to even look at the previews.

Felix 🐥: "Is your chandelier good? That thing fucking flew.

You just groan and flop back down on the bed, covering your face. Just as they flop down and you look at Chan and he looks at you, locking eyes. In horror, you both reach for your necks. Hickeys.

"Oh my god,"

You groan again, confirming your suspicions of sleeping with Chan even more. Your room was a wreck, more so your whole house. Glitter everywhere, clothes ripped and on the floor, broken shot glasses. A shit show. Chan awkwardly clears his throat.

"To be fair, we have definitely kissed before, right?"

"What??"

You frown at him and he just blinks at you.

"I… thought we had? Didn’t we kiss that one New Year’s? At Seungmin’s party?"

"Yeah, on the cheek."

"Oh."

A beat of silence. Then he smirks.

"Well… I guess now we’ve upgraded."

You smack a pillow at him. Memories hit you like a truck. Flashbacks of dancing on your kitchen table, Han pouring shots from a bottle of rum while yelling, "FOR SCIENCE!”, and someone, probably Hyunjin, screaming about being chased by a goose in the park. Then, kissing. You, pulling Chan in by the collar. Him pinning you against the hallway wall. Your bodies tangled in laughter and chaos and alcohol, limbs fumbling, lips on fire, clothes hitting the floor one after another—

You bury your face in your hands.