SOME NIGHTS - YUWIN

10:00 PM

After the lights stutter back on, Sicheng opens his phone. The bright screen flashes the time: 10:00 PM.

Yuta's fallen asleep (at least Sicheng thinks so) as his head is flat against Sicheng's shoulder. His eyes are closed, and soft breaths escape his parted lips. The way his earrings poke against Sicheng's skin isn't making things any better, though.

His phone is about to die. Calling someone would be useless. And who would actually bother driving through the snow, at 10:00 at night, only to stop at a bar and pick up two lonely souls? No one.

"Yuta..." Sicheng whispers, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Wake up."

The boy makes a small noise of protest. Sicheng shakes him again, and he's met with drowsy eyes that he never thought he'd picture to be gorgeous. When he first met the bartender, an hour ago, he automatically assumed him to be a drunkard who had no sense of well-- anything. He was wrong.

Yuta actually suits the epitome of beautiful, with his dazzling eyes or his drawn back grin. Though maybe it's too early to be examining the boy's features this closely. Sicheng pulls away slightly.

At the loss of warmth, Yuta makes another cute noise. Sicheng smiles and moves closer again, dragging his guitar with him and looking down at his feet. The guitarist was ready to snap at this dude an hour ago, so why is he feeling so shy all of a sudden?

It might've been because of their heartfelt exchange. Words really do say a lot about a person, despite them being curt and brief.

"I'm hungry." Yuta eventually says, clutching at his stomach with a pout.

"Me too." Sicheng responds, moving his arms to stretch a bit. "Do you have any food in here?"

"Yeah, of course. This is a bar."

"Right."

Yuta stands after a bit. He trails his way over to the bar counter, shuffling around before heading into the backroom. Sicheng follows suit.

The backroom is just like any other restaurant/bar combo, shelves stacked with ingredients and several cooking mechanisms lined up against the walls.

Sicheng watches Yuta search the shelves. "I'm guessing you k-know how to cook?" He asks, not really sure of the stutter taking over his voice.

"Yeah, but not well." Yuta says back, laughing a little and making something in Sicheng's stomach flip. "I can make ramen? If that's okay."

"That works."

Yuta nods and gets to work. Sicheng sits on the counter and watches, staring in awe at the hundreds of drinks all separated into vintage cases, shiny red wine from dull shades of beer. He's of age to drink, but hasn't taken that opportunity. Even if he did once, he doesn't remember the experience.

The bartender hums a little as he works. He seems more comfortable then before, smiling as he dumps solid squares of ramen into the boiling water. Sicheng really, really, regrets assuming all those terrible things about him.

"Sicheng."

"Hm?"

"Update on the weather?"

"Oh, uh." Sicheng quickly takes out his phone, sliding through his apps before looking at the weather. "The hail's gotten worse. It's not going to stop until around three."

Yuta nods, but for some reason, he doesn't look fazed by the news.

Sicheng hops off the counter. Yuta smiles over at him, making him feel a sudden urge to go all: 'You're amazing and as much as I hate cooking, I'd help you with it.'

So, he does.

"Need some help?" Sicheng questions. The bartender looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, surprised.

"Sure."

Yuta gestures for him to open a few cans here and there, dumping it all into a pot of what Sicheng believes to be some sort of pasta. He trusts Yuta's instinct-- the guy wouldn't poison it or anything.

The bartender notices how his nose scrunches up in an effort to open the cans. It's adorable.

"Cute." Yuta accidentally says out loud, making Sicheng blush and almost drop the can he's holding.

"Me? Are you talking to me?" He yelps. Yuta raises an eyebrow, partially in amusement. 

"Well, yeah. You're the only other person in the room, Sicheng."

There's an awkward silence.

"You're embarrassing." Sicheng mumbles. Yuta flicks the boy's forehead, making him whine.

They leave the pasta to cook for a bit. Yuta walks outside and sits on the floor again, Sicheng joining him not much later. They end up laying on their backs, Sicheng drawing shapes into the sky and Yuta watching the weather from outside the window.

The Chinese boy hugs his guitar close to him, using it as a makeshift pillow. He finds himself slipping into the hands of sleep.

- - - 

When Sicheng wakes up, Yuta's hovering over him with a smile. There's a bowl of pasta in his hands. 

"Up and at 'em. You need to eat, Sicheng."

"Ah..." Sicheng sits up, taking the bowl from his hands. "Thank you."

Yuta nods with another one of his dazzling smiles. The bartender ruffles the guitarist's hair affectionately, making the boy let out an annoyed noise that's muffled by his mouthful of pasta.

And despite the hail crashing onto the roof above them, Sicheng feels a bit at ease.