SOME NIGHTS - YUWIN

11:00 PM

When Sicheng looks over, the clock strikes 11:00 exactly.

The hail comes down in sharp blows-- each hit against the window making Sicheng's stomach lurk with something akin to anxiety. Though the small pattern of rain helps to ease down the fear, lightly showering the plants outside the door and making small smiles twitch on the corner of Sicheng's mouth. Even despite the dismal darkness, he can spot the lavish shades of a growing green.

Yuta was in the backroom. 'Working', supposedly; Sicheng was afraid to check in on him after he left so abruptly. Maybe it would be best if he didn't? As a bartender, there's a lot the guy could get up to by himself.

For some peculiar reason, the thought has Sicheng's already cloudy mind spinning with-- worry? If Yuta's a bartender, wouldn't he have access to the strongest combinations of alcohol out there?

Sicheng quickly gets to his feet. He lets his acoustic companion drop to the floor on his right, making his way through the dimly-lit bar and towards the backroom. Tracing Yuta's steps (at least from what he can remember), Sicheng gently pushes open the door to the kitchen.

Well, Yuta's there, alright. Sprawled out on the floor as if he was taken by a viscous tidal wave. Bottles upon bottles of champagne and soju across his now sock-clad feet. His head lazily rests against the cabinets as he takes another swig of whatever it is that he's drinking.

"Yu-" Sicheng begins, not exactly knowing where to start. It's been about an hour-- was Yuta drinking this entire time? Sicheng feels ridiculously stupid for not choosing to check in on him earlier. Maybe the bartender has a high alcohol tolerance...?

"Yuta! Are you okay--? I'm sorry, are you--"

The bartender waves a hand. His smile resembles that of a Cheshire Cat's, eyes hooded with an emotion that Sicheng can't exactly place his finger on.

"Siiiiiiicheng." Yuta giggles-- yes-- he giggles, a small noise that has heat rushing to Sicheng's cheeks. "Where have you...where have you been? I missed you soooooo much. So much."

"I've been outside." The Chinese guitarist replies curtly, gesturing to the back door with a twist of his thumb. He tries not to let the sudden confession get to him. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Amazing, even." Yuta grins again, and what-- why is he smiling like that?

"Sicheng." The Japanese bartender pouts. "Come, uh. Sit with me. I miiiiissss you."

He's the emotional drunk, Sicheng thinks to himself.

"Okay."

Sicheng does as told, sitting next to his 'friend'. Not too close, though. Just far enough as to not be able to smell the reeking scent of soju.

"Do you want a drink?" Yuta suddenly queries. His head falls in a sleepy manner in between each word.

"No thank you. I..." Sicheng pauses. "I don't drink."

"C'mon, just a lil' bit? It's not too bad." And Yuta looks so desperate, his eyes glimmering in disappointment to Sicheng's rejection.

"Yuta, it's 11:00 at night. If I drink now, it's not going to be good."

The bartender only smiles, pushing the bottle of soju over to him with a wink. He then stands, exiting the backroom and leaving Sicheng to his questionable vices.

- - -

Oh, the wonders of alcohol. The way it makes your head blur, the fluttering feeling against your face, and the awkward sensation of jolts tingling throughout your body.

He wonders why he hasn't tried this before. It was obviously never encouraged, but once you're grown up and legal, what's the big deal, right?

Sicheng wonders where Yuta ran off to. His name sounds so foreign, and a head rush of longing shakes him to the core. He craves the bartender's presence so badly, and for no reason whatsoever...

Someone sits next to him. Unwillingly, he presses closer to the warm body. Every word is a muffled mess.

"Sicheng...it's....Yuta...are...okay?"

Yuta. Pretty, wide eyed Yuta. From this angle, he looks downright heavenly. Angelic and so, so beautiful. Sicheng's never seen a prettier boy.

He can't help himself. Sicheng's mind is too foggy to process anything as he crawls into Yuta's lap, straddling him with a lop-sided smile.

"S-Sicheng?" Yuta's voice is as clear as glass now. Sicheng only continues to move closer. There's just too much space between them.

"Yuta." Sicheng purrs, nuzzling his face in the crook of the bartender's neck. "You're so pretty, Yuta."

"Sicheng, stop it." Yuta rushes out, making a weak attempt to push the gorgeous, cat-like boy back. "You're drunk."

Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. Sicheng was drunk, of course he was, but he still is very aware of what he's doing.

"Sicheng." Yuta warns again. He can't be doing this to Sicheng. He can't take advantage of someone who is no longer his own.

His words don't pose as a threat to the guitarist, who continues shimmying about in Yuta's laps with tiny noises that may just be whimpers and whines.

Why was he doing this again? Was it the odd need to feel affection once in a while? It had to be that.

He just wanted to kiss him.

And maybe a bit more, but that could wait.

For now.

Sicheng hovers his lips over the bartender's own, brushing his thumbs along dented cheekbones which are angled in the sharpest jaw. He dips his fingers down into the boy's cheeks, tugging him endlessly closer and finally, finally, locking their lips together.

Yuta does kiss back after a while— you can't blame him for not being able to control himself. It's not everyday an ethereal boy comes sashaying into your lap.

The effects of the alcohol seem to kick in then, making each press of lips more demanding than the last. It all happens so ridiculously fast— Yuta slides his hands up Sicheng's shirt, pushes him backwards, then moves his light pink lips down the pale column of Sicheng's neck.

Sicheng will admit. He has no idea who the guy in the slightest, personality wise or just as a person, but he doesn't want it to end.