Chapter Text
July — Seoul, late evening
The narrow wooden door of the small Japanese izakaya slides open, and Daesung steps in first, head lowered, baseball cap pulled down tight. CL follows, barely recognizable under her oversized hoodie and sunglasses. It’s a tucked-away spot, one of their usual haunts. Familiar. Safe.
The waiter greets them with little fanfare—they’re just two regulars. A small private corner, sake already ordered.
“Oppa, you really haven’t changed,” CL snorts, slumping into her seat. “Still dressing mysterious.”
Daesung grins, pouring her a shot. “And you still dress like you’re avoiding debt collectors.”
They laugh. The first round disappears too fast, the awkward catch-up melting away like it always does with them.
“How was Japan?” she asks, chewing on sashimi.
“Same as always. The crowd’s energy really hyped me up, but now my knees are paying the price,” Daesung groaned while rubbing his thighs. “And you? How was Europe? I saw your Paris photos… you looked expensive.”
“Because I am.” CL smirks, flipping her hair dramatically. “You should’ve come with me. They love awkward Korean men over there.”
“Yeah, until I start eating natto and ruin the image.”
They dissolve into laughter again, sake flowing easier now. Plates pile up—grilled fish, edamame, yakitori skewers. The air between them is easy, natural. People glance but no one cares. Everyone knows they’re friends. YG Family ties.
Somewhere between the third and fourth bottle, CL starts getting louder, her usual cool slipping. “I’m serious, Oppa. You—hic—you’re too safe. Too boring. Live a little!”
Daesung grins, eyes crinkling. “I am living. I’m watching the baddest female getting more drunk.”
“Yah!” she slurs, swatting his arm.
Daesung leans back, chuckling. “Alright, alright. Time to go. You’re getting loud, Chaerin-ah. Before you start confessing you love me or something.”
“Nooo!” CL pouts, hugging the sake bottle. “I’m fine! One more—”
“Chaerin-ah.” His tone turns gentle but firm. “Let’s go.”
He’s already signaling the waiter. CL sulks but watches him pull out his card, paying without another word.
“What now, Oppa?” she slurs as they stumble out into the humid night.
Daesung stretches, yawning. “Buy wine… go home… edit some drum videos for my personal channel. Sleep.”
“…I’ll come.”
Daesung freezes. “What?”
“I’ll come drink at your place. You can edit. I’ll… supervise.”
“Aish…” He rubs his face, groaning. “Chaerin-ah, just go home. Sleep it off.”
“Nope.” She grins wide, stubborn. “I don’t wanna go home. What if I choke on my own spit and no one’s there?”
“That’s dramatic—even for you.” He laughs but she’s already latched onto his arm.
They bicker all the way to the convenience store.
“Fine,” Daesung finally sighs, rolling his eyes. “But you’re not allowed to distract me. You drink. I edit.”
“Deal.”
And just like that, they walk side by side into the night—him leading, CL grinning behind him—two old friends lost in their own quiet, ridiculous world.