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The first and hopefully the last time Jihoon got drunk, really drunk, was at their high school graduation party. It was also the first real party Jihoon had ever gone to, outside of little gatherings of the other gymnasts after important meets and a few of Junhui’s swimming parties. Jihoon found he didn’t exactly know how to talk to people who weren’t athletes and didn’t spend their free time outside of school training and not much else. Fortunately, Junhui made friends easily and was more than willing to pull Jihoon along with him as he greeted people at the party. (When did Junhui even have time to make this many friends? He spent at least as much time swimming as Jihoon did in training.) Jihoon was similarly content to follow him around while nursing his shitty alcoholic punch, making conversation only when spoken to first or when Junhui prompted him to speak.
About an hour and a half into the party, the punch was starting to taste a lot better and Jihoon felt himself loosening up slightly. He and Junhui settled on a couch in the basement of whoever’s house this was with a group of Junhui’s acquaintances, including some of the swim team members that Jihoon had actually met before. Jihoon slumped against the side of the couch, more than a bit drowsy from all the punch. He wasn’t sure what they were talking about right now, his head buzzing from the alcohol and his ears filled with the sound of too-loud, bass-heavy music and the general noise of human chatter. It must have been something funny, Junhui’s face was contorted into his usual weird, wide-mouthed laugh and his hand flailing in front of him towards presumably the kid that made the hilarious comment. Junhui turned to him suddenly, still laughing a bit and saying something that Jihoon couldn’t really hear. He didn’t really want to move or talk though, so he just looked sideways at Junhui while he repeated himself, enunciating his words a bit more.
It apparently became clear to Junhui on the third try that Jihoon couldn’t hear anything he was saying. Suddenly, Junhui leaned forward, too close for Jihoon’s comfort while sober but not unwelcome in his drunk state. Jihoon could feel Junhui’s breath on his ear as his friend whisper-yelled, “I said, did you want some more punch? I’m gonna head over to the kitchen in a sec.”
Jihoon glanced down at his still half-full cup and slowly shook his head. Junhui patted him on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll bring you some water, then,” he said. “You gotta be sure to drink a lot of water when you drink.” Junhui’s words were slurring a bit. Jihoon was glad he could hear it- he never thought Junhui would be this adorable while tipsy- but he wondered when exactly his friend had drunk enough for that. Jihoon felt fairly buzzed but he was pretty sure that if he did want to talk, he’d be as eloquent as ever.
Jihoon was still giggling to himself when he really noticed that Junhui was gone. While he hadn’t exactly been talking to the other kids in the room before, he suddenly felt more alone than he ever had. He had seen maybe half of these people before in his life and couldn’t quite remember the names of any of them, or even having a full conversation beyond introducing themselves. Where would he be if he hadn’t met Junhui by chance all those years ago at the training center? Would he even be at this party, with these people in this basement? Or would he be at home, friendless outside of the few tolerable gymnasts he knew that he wouldn’t want to drink with anyway? Not for the first time in his life, Jihoon wondered how much his relentless dedication to gymnastics had really fucked up his chances of ever being a normal person with normal friends, a normal life and a dream that hadn’t been chosen for him before he even had a chance to question it. He had to get out of here, he couldn’t do this on his own.
He and Junhui drank the exact same amount, but Jihoon severely overestimated his alcohol tolerance in comparison to Junhui’s after his friend’s massive growth spurt between their sophomore and junior year. The full extent of his drunkenness hit him as soon as he stood up from the couch, causing him to pitch forward slightly to the mild alarm of the boy sitting next to him (Minhyuk? Was that his name?).
“Dude, are you alright? You don’t look so good,” Minhyung said, a look of genuine concern on his face. Jihoon didn’t reply. It was too loud and too hot and too claustrophobic in the basement, and Jihoon could feel panic rising in his gut the longer he stayed down there. He made his way shakily up the stairs as Minseok said something to the group that included Junhui’s name. Jihoon wanted nothing more than to leave the party entirely, go home to his own room and his own bed and collapse and let everything out, every doubt and insecurity that built up inside him for the past god knows how many years. Junhui had walked there with him, though, and would probably be worried sick if Jihoon left without telling him just because he went away for 30 seconds to get a fucking drink.
Jihoon hesitantly pushed open a door on the second floor of the house, relieved to find an empty bedroom. He shut the door behind him and sank down against it, crying softly, hoping no one else would try to come in and see him this way. He tried to focus on just breathing, in and out, as calmly as he could, but it was still difficult to do anything other than sob.
Jihoon couldn’t have been gone from the basement for very long, but he suddenly heard the sound of someone running toward the bedroom and Junhui’s voice yelling his name. His friend tried to open the bedroom door and once he realized it was both unlocked but wouldn’t open, he said softly, “Jihoon, are you in there?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon replied, trying and failing to keep his voice from cracking.
“Shit, dude, get away from the door and let me in.” Jihoon did as he was told, scooting along until Junhui could just barely open the door and sit down beside him. As soon as he took one look at Jihoon’s face, Junhui wrapped his friend in a hug, softly running his fingers through Jihoon’s hair as he cried.
They stayed like that for a while. It must have been an awkward position for Junhui, his upper body twisted 90 degrees so he could pull Jihoon’s face into his chest. With every second that passed like that, Jihoon felt more and more ridiculous about feeling so alone at the party. Why was he so worried about not having any friends, when Junhui was better than the best friend he could’ve asked for?
Jihoon still felt too warm, but now it was mostly due to Junhui’s arms wrapped a bit too tightly around him and Junhui’s hands tracing idle patterns on his back and in his hair as he cried until there was nothing left in him but soft, dry hiccups and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Too warm, but somehow exactly what he needed at that moment.
“Do you want to talk about it at all?” Junhui asked softly once it seemed like Jihoon was calm enough to talk again.
“I dunno, it’s stupid,” Jihoon said. It was stupid. Plus, he didn’t want Junhui to feel guilty for “leaving” him just because his own brain had a weird, dumb freakout over nothing.
“I’ll listen even if it’s stupid, Jihoon, you know that.” Jihoon was still pressed into Junhui’s chest but he could feel his friend’s smile against the top of his head. Of course Jihoon knew that. God, he was still so drunk even after crying enough to fill every cup of punch he’d drunk that night and he wanted nothing more than to word vomit everything he had ever felt but he couldn’t, he couldn’t burden Junhui with his dumb gymnast problems or his apparent abandonment issues or any of it.
So Jihoon lied.
“I was feeling lonely-” ok, so it was more of a half-truth, “-because I realized that after all these years I didn’t have any time for dating or anything?” Jihoon was sure that Junhui would see right through him, would hear the uncertainty in his voice as he scrambled for something plausible. He pushed away so he could see Junhui’s face and judge visually if his lie was at all believable. “I mean, I’ve never even kissed anyone before,” Jihoon tried to laugh but it just sounded like another sad hiccup.
He couldn’t tell whether or not Junhui believed him. Junhui’s face was flushed bright red and he was staring unblinkingly at Jihoon’s mouth. Jihoon suddenly couldn’t hear again, besides his heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he should look away from Junhui, or move to get up and do anything else, but he felt pinned under Junhui’s strong gaze and the warmth of Junhui’s hands as the one that was stroking his hair had moved to rest gently on the side of his face. Jihoon barely had time to register the fact that Junhui was moving closer to him before their lips were touching and every one of Jihoon’s senses was filled by Junhui. Junhui’s touch (too warm and not warm enough at the same time), Junhui’s scent (cologne and the ever present tang of chlorine), the taste of Junhui’s lips (fruit punch and vodka and something more, something Jihoon couldn’t place), the sound of Junhui’s small sigh as Jihoon relaxed slightly into the kiss.
Then, as quickly as he had closed the distance between them, Junhui pulled away. Jihoon was left with nothing but his pounding heart and the uncomfortable feeling of butterflies working their way up from his stomach to his throat and threatening to break free if he opened his mouth.
“Oh my god, Jihoon, shit, I should have asked or something, I’m so sorry,” Junhui said, and Jihoon was surprised by how worried and alert he seemed while Jihoon was still trying to make sense of everything. “I just thought that, you know, if you were that worried about it then I was totally willing to, uh,” Junhui was stumbling over his words, sounding more nervous than Jihoon had ever heard before, “kiss you, or whatever.”
Jihoon knew if he tried to say anything, it would get stuck beneath his pounding heart that was still trapped much higher in his throat than it should be, so he only nodded in response as Junhui ran a hand through his hair.
“I’ve actually been meaning to tell you something,” Junhui began, but Jihoon wasn’t really paying attention anymore. The butterflies in his stomach were about to burst forth, only he realized in horror that it wasn’t entirely feelings or butterflies or whatever poetic word he wanted it to be, it was the fruit punch on an empty stomach and the crying and the nerves finally spilling over. “Jihoon, I-”
With that, Jihoon pitched forward and vomited the contents of his stomach onto the bedroom floor, while Junhui swore loudly and rubbed his back as he dry heaved until it seemed like there was nothing left in him. Jihoon would have collapsed onto the floor too, if Junhui hadn’t been ready to grab him under the arms and haul him ungracefully to his feet.
“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here, ok?” Jihoon nodded weakly, unable to do much more than put one foot ahead of the other while leaning heavily into Junhui’s side. As they left, Junhui called out, “Mingyu!” The kid from earlier, the one Jihoon couldn’t quite remember the name of, poked his head out from the basement.
“Listen, dude, I am so sorry and I will really owe you one but could you clean up the second bedroom upstairs for me? Jihoon got a bit sick and really needs to get home and I would do it but-” It apparently only took one look at Jihoon’s face for Mingyu to trust what Junhui was saying and head reluctantly upstairs. Junhui gently guided Jihoon to the door and out into the warm summer night.
Jihoon couldn’t really remember the walk from the party to Junhui’s house, although it was only a few blocks. Every part of his body hurt from the anxiety and the vomiting and it was all he could do to keep leaning into Junhui’s side and not just fall down and go to sleep on the road. He felt a bit better by the time they reached Junhui’s house, maybe even well enough to walk the short distance to his own house, but Junhui wouldn’t let him leave.
“You can stay here tonight, Jihoon, it’s fine”, Junhui whispered as he guided and half-carried Jihoon into the house. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, you should really lie down. It’s been a tough night, yeah?” Jihoon could only nod silently. How was Junhui so calm right now? Jihoon was still so embarrassed about everything, his weird freak out and the fact that Junhui had kissed him and then he had just hurled all over the place. His brain was still going a mile a minute even as sleep overcame his body, making his limbs and eyelids feel unbearably heavy even before he sat down on Junhui’s bed while Junhui tried to wrestle off his shoes.
“Why are you- Junhui, I can take my own shoes off,” Jihoon said when he finally found his voice again.
“It’s ok, just get some sleep,” was Junhui’s only reply. Jihoon apparently didn’t need to be told twice, because it felt as though he blinked once and he was suddenly under the covers and the room was dark, Junhui only a blanketed lump on the floor beside the bed. Jihoon’s head still hurt quite badly, but for the first time that night he felt as though he could really get his thoughts straight.
“Junhui, are you awake?” he whispered loudly. The blanket on the floor let out a muffled groan. “What was it you wanted to tell me, before I ralphed in that kid’s bedroom?”
Junhui was silent for a bit, and Jihoon thought that maybe he had fallen back asleep. He was a bit surprised, then, to hear Junhui say, “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.” That didn’t do much to satisfy Jihoon’s curiosity, but Junhui had always been so careful not to push Jihoon when he didn’t want to talk about something so how could he, in good conscience, try to say anything to try to get Junhui to spill? He rolled over to try and fall back asleep again, but Junhui spoke up a few minutes later.
“Actually, I wanted to tell you-” Junhui paused and took a deep, shuddering breath, “I don’t think I’m going to swim in college. At least, not competitively.”
“Oh,” was all Jihoon could think to say.
“I just don’t really enjoy it anymore? I haven’t since middle school. I think I only kept doing it because it was a way to spend time outside of school and most of my friends were swimming, you know?”
Jihoon did know. Except it was even worse, he wasn’t even friends with any of the other gymnasts he knew and a terrifying number of days he would rather waste away doing nothing than spend another second at the gym. He didn’t know what to say though, afraid that voicing any of these concerns would somehow unleash the same monster that had possessed him at the party. Instead of talking, he blindly reached his hand towards the blanket on the floor until he found Junhui’s hand and held it tightly. Junhui stiffened momentarily before lightly squeezing back.
“What’ll you do instead?” Jihoon asked. It was mostly for Junhui but also partly for himself, to hear what possibilities there could be for his future.
“I don’t really know yet. But I think I’m more excited to try something new than I am afraid, so it’ll be ok.” It’ll be ok. Junhui sounded so sure of himself. Jihoon wasn’t that confident about the future even in his wildest dreams.
Jihoon breathed a bit slower, hoping that his friend would think he had fallen back to sleep. When Junhui’s breath evened out, Jihoon softly called his name again, and squeezed his hand lightly to see if he would react. Junhui did and said nothing, for all appearances dead to the world.
Jihoon exhaled softly and said, so lightly that even he could barely hear it, “I wish I could quit, too.”
(Jihoon was never sure how to address that night, how Junhui had kissed him and treated him so delicately and sweetly and woken up the next day still holding his hand. He decided it was best to ignore it, pass it off as the alcohol and high emotions of the night, or at most joke about it a few years down the line, and Junhui apparently decided the same. Jihoon couldn’t allow himself to think about it any more deeply than that; he was nothing if not afraid of change).