I don't even remember how many drinks I had.

All I remember is the music being too loud, the lights spinning, and Nam-gyu yelling something like, “One more round!” And of course I said yes. I always say yes. It’s stupid.

The next thing I know, I’m outside the club, my head against the cold wall, my phone in my hand. I don't even remember calling you — but your voice came through the speaker like a lifeline.

You didn’t sound mad. Just tired. And worried.

Now we were in your car. You were driving, and I was half-conscious in the passenger seat, head leaning back, eyes barely open. The city lights passed by in a blur, like soft stars dragging across the window.

"How much did you drink?" you asked.

I opened one eye, tried to focus on your face, and mumbled, “A little bit…”

That was a lie, obviously.

You sighed, the kind of sigh that means “I should’ve let you sleep on the street, idiot.”

But you didn’t. You never do.

The silence sat between us for a while. I stared at the ceiling of your car, letting the motion rock me into a soft daze. My head was spinning and my chest felt tight — not from the alcohol, but from everything else.

I had stuff I wanted to say. Stuff I never told you. Not after the games. Not even when we made it out. It’s easier to joke, to laugh, to pretend none of it touched me.

But tonight… I was too drunk to pretend.

"Madison?" I murmured. My voice sounded weird, soft. I didn’t even know if I said your name right.

You looked at me for a second, keeping one hand on the wheel. “Yeah?”

I turned my head slowly, my eyes finding your face under the passing streetlight.

"You're really fucking pretty..." I said.

It just came out. No filter. No control. Just truth.

You didn’t say anything at first.

I panicked a little inside. Did I just ruin everything? Were you gonna pull over and kick me out?

But you didn’t. You just tightened your hands around the wheel and kept driving, your cheeks glowing just slightly in the soft light.

"I mean it," I added, almost a whisper now. "You're always... always helping me. Even when I’m a mess."

I closed my eyes.

“I remember everything, you know? From the games. I remember you standing in front of me in that one round. Like you were trying to protect me. I never forgot that.”

You didn’t speak, but the silence felt different. Warmer.

“I wanted to kiss you back then,” I admitted. “I wanted to hold your hand. I just... thought we’d die before I got the chance.”

I heard you exhale, soft but deep.

And then… your hand reached over.

You grabbed mine.

Not a full grip. Just enough. Like you were saying, “I hear you. I’m here.”

And for the first time that night, the world stopped spinning.