Guess some things never change

You’re halfway through shovelling leftover fried rice into your mouth when your phone lights up. Oh? An incoming call. Wonder who could that be, hm.

Asa. At 9:52PM. Asa?

You let it ring once, twice, debating whether she butt-dialed you or if she’s calling to ask you about that meme you sent earlier. Then you pick up, still chewing.

“Hello? Enami?” “Come get me.”

You pause mid-bite. “…Eh?”

“I want to drink.”

You blink. “Water? Milk? Gatorade—”

“Soju.” Her voice is flat. Final. Like she’s been preparing to say this line for months. “I wanna try soju.”

You nearly choke. “Ya, You said you didn’t want to drink until next year.”

“I changed my mind.”

“It’s 10PM on a Tuesday—” “I changed my mind now.”

You close your container slowly and grab your keys. “And you’re legally allowed to do this?”

“My manager said it’s fine. I’m off schedule. As long as I’m with someone responsible.”

There’s a long pause. “Unfortunately, that’s me.”

Despite your tone, it took you exactly 2.3 seconds to hang off the call, toss the half-folded hoodie on the couch, and start digging through your closet for something that screams “casual but responsible adult who knows how to drink responsibly and won’t let their friend pass out in a gutter.”

By the time you pull up to the dorm, Asa’s already outside. Hoodie, cap, mask, the whole stealth mission look. But her eyes— yeah, those give her away. Wide, jittery, practically sparkling in the streetlights that is very out of her character. She’s nervous. But also… excited. Like a kid about to try cotton candy for the first time. Except this cotton candy could make her blackout if she drinks it too fast.

“You look like a celebrity trying to rob a bank, Enami.”

She climbs in wordlessly but smirks. “And you look like a broke intern who got roped into driving me around.”

You glance at her. “Tsk. You’re not wrong.”

She doesn’t say much during the short ride, just keeps glancing out the window like she’s mentally preparing herself for a test. You know she’s trying to act casual, but her leg’s bouncing slightly. That never happens. Not with Asa.

She’s always in control. Of her image, her schedule, her words—and sometimes even you.

But tonight… something’s different.

The soju bar is tucked in the side alley of some random block you remembered from late-night food runs after company dinners. Quiet, not too flashy, just busy enough not to look shady.

You guide her inside like it’s sacred ground, letting her sit first. You’re not about to let her first drinking memory be one where she burns a hole through her throat with hardcore original flavour or gags over raw oysters.

Asa looks around like she’s entered another realm. The sticky tables, clinking of glass, the smoky smell of meat and oil and… whatever that sauce is that always sticks to your fingers no matter how many napkins you use.

“It’s louder than I thought,” she says, voice barely above a whisper, even though no one’s paying attention to the two of you. “Also… kinda cozy.”

You order quickly: soju, kimchi pancake, spicy pork, and tteokbokki. All the good, greasy stuff to cushion the impending regret (and also a glass of water as precaution).

She watches you pour the first shot like it’s an ancient ritual. Her fingers are toying with the paper napkin, twisting it slowly.

“You nervous?”

She shrugs. “Not really.”

“Sure, and your foot’s shaking.” “It’s because it’s cold.”

“It’s July.” “Mind your business.”

You chuckle, pouring her glass carefully. Then yours. The green bottles glint under the old fluorescent light. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

She takes the glass in her hand. “You got to try it a year ago. I want to see what the hype’s about.”

You tilt your head. “What if it’s terrible?”

She smirks, finally looking at you fully. “Then I’ll blame you.”

You clink glasses. “Fair.”

And she downs it. Immediately, her face contorts like she’s been punched by regret. Her eyes squeeze shut, lips twitching, throat working overtime. You wish you got it on your phone, because it was hilarious as fuck.

“Oh my god. Ugh.” She coughs once, then fans her tongue. “Why is it sweet and also like death??” she croaks, chasing it with a gulp of water and a piece of spicy pork.

You burst into laughter.

“Why would anyone willingly drink this!?” she exclaims, slamming the glass down and reaching for the water.

“To forget how embarrassing they were in their rookie days,” you tease, sipping yours easily.

“You’re so annoying.” “Yet here you are, choosing me for your first drink.”

She sticks out her tongue in defiance, then winces again as the aftertaste kicks in. “Remind me to dox you tomorrow.”

“Boo hoo. You’re already in my debt.” “How?”

You lean back, stretching. “Because no one else would take you to a suspiciously greasy soju joint at 10PM, knowing full well you’re going to either cry, confess something weird, or fall asleep on the table.”

Asa looks at you, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Confess something weird?”

You raise an eyebrow. "Eh? You actually have something?"

She picks up the bottle and pours her second glass, this time with less drama. Her voice is quieter.

“Well…I guess I just… wanted it to be with you.”