The bass was thumping, lights flickering like broken stars, and the room spun just enough to make you laugh for no reason. You and your friends had definitely passed the line from tipsy to drunk hours ago. but no one was counting.

Clutching a half-full drink, you stumbled away from the noise, shoulder aching from bumping into someone earlier. The hallway was dim, doors half-open like mazes waiting to be explored. Without really thinking, you pushed one open and stepped inside.

The sharp pain in your shoulder made you wince and let out a low groan. Your drink slipped from your hand, splashing as it fell and almost hitting someone.

“Be careful where you step, you idiot,” came a voice. Sharp. Careless.

You froze. He was lounging by the window, legs stretched out, a black hoodie half-draped over his head. Beomgyu. Of course. He didn’t even bother to look at you at first, just leaned back like you were an interruption he’d seen coming. But then, when your uneven breath filled the silence, his eyes flicked up—and lingered.

“…Wait.” His tone shifted. “Hey. You okay?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the heat climbing up your neck, but suddenly his voice didn’t sound so harsh. There was a flicker in his gaze now—concern, faint but unmistakable. Like he didn’t expect to care… but did anyway.

Beomgyu rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the mess you made on the floor. His sigh came out somewhere between annoyance and something softer. “Tch. Next time you wanna crash a room,” he muttered, “maybe don’t break yourself doing it.”