#saerimm

      he’s a creature of habit. it’s what seven years of reckless spontaneity does to a man. tonight, however, was not something he pulled out of thin air. no, tonight was his usual. it’s a typical friday, and that means typical friday nights, which should ( for every twenty something year old with a social life ) consist of typical end of the week havoc. by now his body acts on its own accord. dancing lazily to the loud bass. clutching his red solo cup tight as if it has always belonged there. the whole nine yards. the hexed soju has begun to wear off by now, leaving only a slight buzz in its wake. it’s fine. ( he swears. ) he’s been in worse conditions before. tonight, he can handle himself. 

      exhibit a: he’s able to walk on his own two feet all the way back to the baek ho dorms in one piece.

      exhibit b: this week’s password comes easily in the form of a hushed whisper. the portrait hole swings open. he’s in. simple as that.

      something akin to pride swells in his chest as he steps through the entrance and into the common room. for a boy adorned in red and gold, hubris is bound to follow isn’t it? envelope him tight in the sensation. wrap itself around his heart with a firm, strong grip. it was almost too easy. almost. but alas, luck never seemed to be on his side.

      he sees the outline of a familiar person in the corner of the room, made only visible by the early morning moonlight. but even that is enough for him to realize how screwed he is. “saerim noona,” he calls out, lips curling into a tight smile. he’s already bracing for the berating that’s soon to come. “you can stop hiding now, i can literally see the top of your head.”

      he’s really hoping he’ll be able to charm himself out of this one. after all, he’s done worse, been worse, seen worse. surely she’ll let this one slide, right? probably. ( but with saerim one could never be too sure. )