You were at a friend’s party. Tonight, you didn’t want to think or remember anything, you just wanted to let go and have fun.

The music was loud, laughter spilled through the air, and for once, you let yourself sink into it. But somewhere between the drinks and the dancing, you got too drunk.

⸻

You reached for another glass, but before your fingers touched it, someone grabbed your wrist.

“That’s enough. You can barely stand,”

a voice said.

June.

Of all people, it had to be him. Your enemy. The person you swore you couldn’t stand.

You blinked at him, words slipping from your grasp, and only managed a quiet hum. The world tilted slightly.

June sighed, the kind of sound that carried equal parts irritation and concern. Without another word, he pulled you closer, his arm steadying your swaying form. Then, without asking, he scooped you up and carried you out.

You barely registered the drive. The hum of the engine, the blur of streetlights, it all melted together until you felt the softness of a bed beneath you.

He hovered above you, eyes dark and searching.

“How drunk are you?”

“Very…”

you slurred, blinking up at him.

June’s expression shifted, something tender flickered beneath the usual hardness. He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Drunk enough to not remember tonight?”

he whispered.

You made a faint sound, maybe a yes, maybe just a sigh.

June’s breath trembled as his forehead rested against yours, thumb tracing the edge of your lower lip.

“Good,”

he murmured, voice low and unsteady.

“Because I’m tired of being your f*cking enemy. I love you. I always have.”