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The music inside the house was loud enough that Dylan could feel it in the floorboards.
The bass thudded up through the soles of his shoes and into his chest like a second heartbeat, slightly off rhythm with his own. Every time someone opened the back door, the sound of laughter, shouting, and a fragment of music spilled out in a rush before the door slammed shut again.
Dylan leaned against the kitchen counter, a red plastic cup hanging loosely from his fingers. The drink inside had long since stopped tasting like anything specific. It was just sweet, strong, and warm in the back of his throat.
He had been telling himself for the last hour that he wasn’t that drunk.
But the truth was his thoughts had begun to drift in slow circles. Every time they moved away from the same place, they eventually floated back.
To Jun.
The kitchen was crowded in the loose, careless way party kitchens always were. A group of people were arguing loudly about tequila shots. Meanwhile, someone else had claimed the aux cord and was now being booed for their music taste.
Dylan watched it all with a mild sense of distance. His head buzzed.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it again, even though he knew deep down there wouldn’t be anything new.
Jun’s name sat a few rows down in his contact list.
Dylan decisively opened their chat.
Jun
you going tonight?
Dylan
yeah probably
Jun never replied after that.
Dylan sighed, locked the phone and slid it back into his pocket, pressing it down harder than necessary as if that would somehow stop the familiar tug of disappointment.
“Rough night?”
The voice came from his right.
Dylan turned his head, blinking once as he tried to focus. A guy had appeared beside him, taller than Dylan, with dark hair falling loosely over his forehead. Dylan vaguely recognised him in that indistinct way you recognise people around campus without actually knowing them.
The guy nodded towards Dylan’s cup.
“You’ve been staring into that thing like it personally offended you.”
Dylan let out a small laugh.
“Maybe it did.”
The guy reached across the counter and grabbed a bottle from the clutter of drinks, tipping it toward Dylan’s cup in silent question. Dylan lifted the cup slightly, and the guy poured generously.
They clinked cups and drank.
The alcohol burned more sharply this time. Dylan coughed a little, turning his head as he swallowed. When he looked back, the guy was smiling.
“Lightweight?”
“Shut up,” Dylan muttered, turning away.
They lingered there side by side, watching the room. Someone across the kitchen attempted to start a chant for more shots and immediately lost control of it.
After a moment the guy glanced at him again.
“You look like you’d rather be somewhere else.”
Dylan snorted softly.
“You’re pretty observant.”
The guy leaned back against the counter beside him. They stood close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed whenever someone bumped the counter.
“Who were you hoping to see tonight?” the guy asked after a moment.
Dylan blinked.
“What makes you think I came here hoping to see someone?”
The guy shrugged, “Everyone does.”
Dylan opened his mouth to answer, but Jun’s face flashed in his mind so quickly it stalled the words before they could come out.
Instead of answering, Dylan took another drink.
The guy watched him for a moment, something quietly amused in his expression.
“Ah,” he said.
Dylan rolled his eyes, though the reaction felt half-hearted.
“You analysing me now?”
“Just observing.”
The guy nudged Dylan lightly with his elbow. The contact was easy, almost familiar, and Dylan realised the conversation had somehow become comfortable without him noticing.
“Well,” the guy said, “whoever they are, they’re missing out.”
Dylan huffed a quiet laugh.
“Are you seriously flirting with me?”
The guy shrugged.
Normally Dylan would have brushed that off with a joke and shifted the conversation somewhere safer.
Tonight the alcohol had loosened something in him. The moment felt slower than usual, softer around the edges.
“Bold strategy,” Dylan smirked.
The guy smiled a little at that, then gestured towards the back door.
“Wanna get some air?”
—
The porch was cooler and quieter, though the music still pulsed faintly through the walls. The night air brushed against Dylan’s flushed skin, sending a small shiver through him that helped clear the alcohol fog just a little.
They leaned against the wooden railing.
For a while they simply stood there, watching the dark yard and listening to the muffled party inside. After a moment the guy looked at him again.
“You’re definitely drunk.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.”
Dylan turned slightly toward him.
“You dragged me out here just to judge me?”
“No,” the guy said softly.
He stepped closer.
The shift in distance felt subtle but deliberate. Dylan could smell the faint mix of cologne and alcohol now.
“You mind?” the guy asked.
Dylan hesitated.
It was only a second, but it was long enough for a quiet thought to surface in the back of his mind.
This was probably a bad idea.
But another thought followed right behind it, reckless and stubborn. Maybe if he just tried this and proved to himself that it didn’t matter who it was, that constant pull towards Jun would stop feeling so heavy.
“Okay,” Dylan said, barely above a whisper.
The guy kissed him.
It started gently, the kind of careful first kiss where both people are still figuring out the rhythm. Dylan responded automatically, his brain moving slightly slower than the moment.
A hand settled at the back of his neck, warm and steady.
Dylan grabbed lightly at the front of the guy’s shirt to balance himself.
The porch light buzzed faintly above them.
When the kiss deepened Dylan closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the warmth and closeness of it. The alcohol blurred the edges of everything, making the moment feel soft and distant at the same time.
For a few seconds it worked.
Then his mind quickly betrayed him.
Because the second his eyes were closed, the image in his head shifted.
Dark hair falling across warm eyes.
Jun’s quiet laugh.
Jun leaning too close over Dylan’s shoulder while they worked on assignments.
The memory slipped so easily into the moment that Dylan didn’t even notice when his brain replaced the stranger in front of him with someone else entirely.
The guy kissed him again, a little harder now.
Dylan’s fingers tightened in his shirt.
And without even realising what he was doing, Dylan murmured against his mouth,
“Jun.”
The effect was immediate.
The guy pulled back as though someone had abruptly turned the lights on.
“…What?”
Dylan blinked, disoriented.
Reality rushed back all at once. The cold air bit at his skin, the porch railing dug into his back, and the stranger stood in front of him with a deeply confused expression.
“Oh,” Dylan said faintly.
The guy stared at him.
“Did you just call me Jun?”
Dylan ran a hand through his hair, the weight of what had just happened dropping heavily into his stomach.
“I’m really drunk,” Dylan admitted.
The guy shook his head.
“That doesn’t explain much.”
Dylan let out a weak laugh. “It really doesn’t,” he sighed.
“Who’s Jun?”
Dylan paused.
The guy watched his face carefully, and whatever he saw there seemed to answer the question before Dylan could.
Understanding slowly replaced the confusion in his expression.
“…Right,” he said quietly.
Dylan covered his face with both hands.
“Please don’t say it.”
“You’re in love with him.”
Dylan dropped his hands again, though he didn’t immediately argue this time.
For a moment neither of them spoke. The music from inside thumped faintly through the walls while the cold air settled around them.
Eventually the guy leaned back against the railing.
“Well,” he said after a moment, sounding more sympathetic than annoyed, “at least you figured it out.”
Dylan let out a soft, humourless laugh.
“I figured out I’m an idiot.”
The guy pushed himself off the railing.
“For what it’s worth,” he added, “you seemed very into it before the name thing.”
Dylan groaned.
“Please never say that again.”
The guy smiled faintly and moved toward the door. Just before going inside, he paused with his hand on the handle.
“Maybe talk to him.”
Dylan stared at the wooden boards of the porch.
“Right,” he muttered. “That sounds like a great plan.”
The guy didn’t say anything else after that. He slipped back into the house, the door closing behind him and letting the music swallow him again.
Dylan stayed on the porch.
For a while he just stood there, hands resting on the railing, staring out at the dark yard. The alcohol was starting to thin out in his system now, the warm blur fading just enough to leave the sharper parts of the night behind.
Which, unfortunately, meant his brain had room to think.
And the more he thought, the worse it got.
Because now that the moment had happened and Jun’s name had slipped out of his mouth like it belonged there, Dylan couldn’t push the realisation away anymore.
It settled heavily in his chest, uncomfortable and obvious.
Every small memory started lining up in his head in a way that suddenly felt a little too clear.
Jun falling asleep on Dylan’s couch during movie nights, his head tipped against Dylan’s shoulder like it was the most natural place in the world.
Jun texting him random things throughout the day that should’ve meant nothing but somehow always managed to make Dylan’s mood lift.
Jun smiling at him in that quiet way that made Dylan feel like the center of the room even when there were twenty other people there.
Dylan dragged both hands down his face.
This was bad. The kind of bad that made his chest feel tight.
Because if he was really honest, he knew the problem wasn’t just that he liked Jun.
It was how much he did.
The thought of Jun with someone else made something sharp twist in his stomach. But the thought of losing Jun entirely, of somehow ruining what they already had, felt even worse.
Dylan let out a shaky breath and leaned more heavily against the railing.
Somewhere inside the house someone started yelling the lyrics to a song. A few people joined in, horribly off-key.
Normally Dylan would’ve laughed.
Instead he pulled his phone out of his pocket again.
Jun’s contact sat there, exactly where it always had.
For a moment Dylan stared at it.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
What was he even supposed to say?
“Hey, funny story. I accidentally said your name while making out with someone tonight and now I’m realising I might be pathetically in love with you.”
Yeah. Great plan.
Dylan let his hand fall back to his side.
He tipped his head back and looked up at the dark sky above the porch.
“Jesus,” he muttered quietly to himself.
Because the worst part wasn’t just that he liked Jun.
The worst part was realising how long it had probably been this way.
Apparently long enough that even half-drunk and kissing someone else, his brain still couldn’t pretend for more than a few seconds.
And the thing that really got to him was that, for those few seconds before the name slipped out, Dylan had actually tried. He’d closed his eyes and leaned into the moment, hoping it might feel right.
Instead his mind had filled in Jun’s face without hesitation.
Like it had always belonged there.
And that realisation sat somewhere deep in his chest, heavy and aching in a way that made it painfully clear this wasn’t going away anytime soon.