you had a habit- getting drunk on the weekend and sleeping in on Monday. you often did it on an empty stomach, too. Jiwoong found it unhealthy. he thought that it was a bad habit. an addiction. and he was right. your friends were all the same way when they were over- slurred words, hickey littered necks, lipstick stains on the neck of beer bottles. he always thought you were better than that.

it happens again, tonight. he thinks it's the same- but then he gets a call from you and realizes you've left your keys on the dining table. so he has to rise from his bed, and pad over to the front door to let you in. his hair is a mess, his clothes askew from tossing in his bed.

you immediately stumble into his arm. you feet are killing you, from all the dancing and the height of your heels. you breaths reeks of alcohol when you giggles. he rights you, and asks dryly, "how drunk are you?"