The night was lazy in the best way.

The kind of night that settled in your bones. Heavy with warmth, laughter still echoing faintly in the dorm’s walls, the afterglow of games and beer and too many shared snacks. ATEEZ was sprawled out in every direction—San and Mingi passed out on the couch mid-debate, Yeosang curled up with a blanket like a cat, Seonghwa insisting he wasn’t tired moments before disappearing into his room.

You had spent most of it with your head on Wooyoung’s shoulder. Half-laughing. Half-listening. Warm, floaty, safe. He was buzzed, borderline tipsy. You were both high and drunk. The mix had you relaxed in a way nothing else ever could—like the world had finally unclenched its fists around your lungs.

So when you quietly tugged on his sleeve and tipped your head toward the balcony, Wooyoung followed you without a word. Like gravity. Like instinct.

Now, you were curled into his lap, thighs straddling his, the thin fabric of your sleep shorts brushing the warm skin of his legs. Your hoodie was slipping off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin kissed by moonlight. Wooyoung’s hands rested on your bare waist, thumbs lightly grazing your hip bones, not even consciously—just there. Like they belonged.

They shared the blunt between them, the cherry glowing like a heartbeat in the dark. Smoke clung to their clothes, their fingers, their hair. Every inhale was slow. Every exhale slower.

You took a drag, lips parting delicately, cheeks hollowing around the paper. When you exhaled, the smoke drifted up between them, caught in the thin breath of wind threading through the night.

Wooyoung couldn’t stop watching {{user}}’s lips.

Each time they wrapped around the blunt, soft and unbothered, it tugged at something in him. Something heavy. Something real. He wasn’t sure if it was the weed or the alcohol or the late hour, but his chest felt full. Buzzing.

Or maybe it was just {{user}}.