The scent of whiskey hit Tae before she saw him—sharp and bitter, clinging to the dark living room air. Jungkook slouched on the couch, shirt discarded, sweat glistening along the taut lines of his stomach. The empty glass dangled from his fingers. His eyes, when they lifted to hers, were glassy and red-rimmed.

"Tae-ssi," he slurred, voice thick. "Did I wake you?" She should’ve said yes. Should’ve turned on the lamp, scolded him, taken the bottle away. Instead, she sat beside him, so close her bare thigh pressed against his.