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Jiwoo had always believed that she didn't belong in places like these.

The music was too loud, pounding through the floor like a second heartbeat. The lights flashed in restless colors that made the room feel dizzy, and the air was thick with the sharp smell of alcohol and perfume and something slightly burned from the kitchen.

None of it ever sat right with her.

Bars were meant for people who laughed easily with strangers. People who knew how to shout over music, how to lean against counters like they owned the room, how to order drinks without squinting at the menu like it was written in another language.

Yet, here she was.

Wandering through a thick crowd, trying to navigate her way to the bar section of the club. She took a step, apologized for bumping into someone when they probably couldn't even hear her.

Another person brushed past her shoulder. Someone laughed loudly behind her. The bass thumped through the floor again, rattling the nerves she hadn’t meant to bring with her tonight.

Jiwoo pressed forward anyway.

Just one drink, she reminded herself.

That had been the deal.

She stumbled slightly as she finally reached the bar and caught the edge of the counter to steady herself.

And then she saw you.

Behind the bar.

Moving like you had grown up there.

A glass spun between your fingers before landing perfectly upright. Your other hand slid a drink across the counter without even looking, your attention already on the next order someone was shouting over the music.

You leaned in slightly to hear someone better, nodding once before grabbing a bottle from the shelf behind you.

Everything about the way you moved looked effortless.

Confident.

Like the chaos of the room didn’t touch you at all.

Jiwoo stared for a second longer than she meant to.

Then you looked up.

Your eyes flicked across the crowded bar automatically, scanning faces the way someone did after hours of serving people.

They landed on her.

For half a second, neither of you moved.

Jiwoo straightened quickly, suddenly aware that she was standing there staring like someone who had forgotten what they came for.

You tilted your head slightly, reading the situation in a glance.

First time here, overwhelmed, probably lost.

The corner of your mouth twitched faintly.

You stepped closer to her side of the bar.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Can't I come and visit my boyfriend?” She answered back.

You paused barely.

The glass in your hand stopped mid-polish before you continued like nothing had happened.

“My workplace isn’t exactly a date spot,” you said.

Jiwoo glanced around the bar.

Someone was cheering near the dartboard. A group of people were arguing loudly about something that probably didn’t matter. The bass thumped again, rattling the bottles on the shelves behind you.

“…I noticed,” she muttered.

You slid a finished drink down to someone waiting beside her before your attention returned to Jiwoo.

“You hate places like this.”

“I don’t hate them.”

“Yeah, I could see that with how you’re dressed up.” You replied.

Jiwoo looked down at herself briefly before she pulled the sleeves of her sweater tighter.

Jiwoo looked down at herself briefly before she pulled the sleeves of her sweater tighter.

It was the same oversized one she wore most mornings in the apartment. Soft. Comfortable. Completely out of place among the glittering tops and sleek jackets around her.

Someone brushed past her wearing heels that probably cost more than her entire outfit.

Jiwoo exhaled quietly.

“…I didn’t know there was a dress code,” she muttered.

You leaned one hip against the counter, watching her with a look that hovered somewhere between amused and fond.

“There isn’t,” you said.

“Then why did you say that?”

“Because you look like you came here by accident.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Jiwoo narrowed her eyes slightly.

“I came for a drink.”

“You came wearing your sleep sweater.”

“It’s not a sleep sweater.”

“You slept in it yesterday.”

“That’s not relevant.”

You huffed a small laugh and turned to grab another glass, rinsing it under the sink behind the bar.

When you looked back, Jiwoo was still standing there with that faintly stubborn expression she got when she knew you were technically right but refused to admit it.

“You could’ve texted,” you said.

“For what?”

“If you were coming.”

She shrugged lightly.

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You pushed through half the city and a crowd of drunk people.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“You almost got taken out by the guy with the leather jacket five minutes ago.”

Jiwoo paused. “You saw that?”

“I told you,” you said calmly, reaching for another bottle. “I notice things.”

She huffed softly but didn’t argue again.

For a second she just watched you work.

The way you moved between bottles and glasses. The quick rhythm of your hands. Someone called your name from the far end of the bar and you answered without even turning around.

Jiwoo’s gaze softened a little.

Then she leaned slightly closer across the counter so you could hear her better.

“You forgot your jacket,” she said.

You blinked.

“…What?”

“At home.”

Your brow furrowed faintly.

“And dinner,” she added.

You paused again.

The glass in your hand lowered slowly to the counter.

Jiwoo reached into the canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a folded container.

She slid it across the counter toward you like she was passing a secret message.

“I figured you’d forget to eat again,” she said.

You stared at the container for a second.

Then at her.

“You came all the way here for that?”

Jiwoo immediately looked away, suddenly very interested in the lime wedges lined up beside the cutting board.

“I told you,” she said quickly, “I wanted a drink.”

You looked at the container again.

Then back at her sweater.

Then the way she was trying not to look at you.

A slow smile crept onto your face.

Jiwoo caught it immediately.

“Don’t start.”

“You hate bars.”

“I don’t hate them.”

“You fought through a crowd.”

“I’m resilient.”

“You brought me dinner.”

She sighed.

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing your sleep sweater.”

“It is not a sleep—”

You reached under the counter and grabbed a glass before she could finish arguing.

Ice clinked softly as you dropped it in.

A splash of soda.

A twist of lime.

Then you slid the drink toward her.

Jiwoo glanced down at it.

“…What’s this?”

“Something safe for people who clearly didn’t come here to party.”

She took a small sip.

Cool.

Citrusy.

Exactly the kind of thing she would order if she actually knew how to order drinks.

Her shoulders relaxed just a little.

You watched her for a second.

Then you tapped the container she’d brought.

“I’ll eat this on my break.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t have to bring it.”

“I know.”

“But you did.”

Jiwoo rolled her eyes faintly.

“You’re making a big deal out of it.”

You leaned slightly closer across the counter, voice just loud enough for her to hear.

“I’m not.”

Your eyes flicked down to the drink in front of her.

“First one’s free.”

Jiwoo raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

You gave a small shrug.

“For you?”

The corner of your mouth tilted upward again.

“It’s on the house.”

It was safe to assume that Jiwoo was a light drinker.

You didn’t need to check the empty glass she had insisted on finishing to know that. The evidence was currently draped across your back.

Jiwoo clung to you like she herself decided that you were her walking bed. Her arms hung loosely around your shoulders, fingers curled into the fabric of your jacket while you walked the quiet streets toward home.

The night outside was calmer than the chaos of the club. The music was gone, replaced by distant traffic and the soft hum of streetlights. Cool air brushed against your face, carrying the faint smell of rain that had fallen earlier.

Jiwoo, meanwhile, was warm, very warm.

Her cheek rested against the back of your shoulder, her breath slow and uneven as if she couldn’t quite decide whether she was sleepy or dramatically exhausted.

“You weigh nothing,” you muttered, adjusting your grip under her legs.

Jiwoo made a small noise behind you.

“That’s because… you’re strong,” she mumbled, words slightly slurred together.

You huffed quietly.

“That’s not how physics works.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, her head shifted slightly, forehead bumping lightly against the back of your neck.

For a moment you thought she had fallen asleep.

Then she spoke again.

“Your club is too loud.”

“You figured that out tonight?”

“Mhm. And everyone kept on. . .talking.”

“That tends to happen in places with people.”

Jiwoo sighed dramatically, her grip around your shoulders tightening a little as if the memory itself had been exhausting.

“I don’t like strangers.”

“I know.”

Another quiet stretch of walking followed. Your footsteps echoed softly against the pavement while the city around you settled into late-night calm.

Behind you, Jiwoo shifted again.

Her chin slid onto your shoulder now, her face just barely visible in the corner of your vision. Her hair tickled the side of your neck.

“You looked cool though,” she murmured.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Cool.”

“Behind the bar,” she continued lazily. “Like you knew what you were doing.”

“I do know what I’m doing.”

She hummed softly like she was considering that.

Then her nose bumped lightly against your neck.

“You looked cooler than the other bartenders.”

“How many other bartenders have you seen?”

You felt her huff a breath, almost like a laugh. 

“Just you.” 

“Yeah, that’s a bar.”

Your steps slowed slightly when you reached your apartment building.

You adjusted your hold on her again before pushing the door open with your shoulder.

“Next time,” you said while walking toward the stairs, “you’re ordering juice.”

Jiwoo lifted her head slightly.

“…next time?”

You glanced back at her.

“You’ll be lucky if I do get you anything.”

She grinned lazily against your shoulder.

Then, as if the thought had just arrived in her foggy brain, she leaned forward and pressed a quick, clumsy kiss against the side of your neck.

“You’re still cool though,” she whispered.

Your steps paused for half a second.

Then you continued up the stairs.

“Go to sleep, Jiwoo.”

You opened the door to her room and carefully set her down on her bed.

Jiwoo landed with a soft bounce against the mattress, hair spilling across the pillow in messy strands. For a moment she just stared up at the ceiling like gravity had finally remembered her.

You straightened, rolling your shoulders slightly after carrying her up the stairs.

“Stay there,” you said.

She squinted at you.

“I live here.”

“Exactly. Stay.”

Jiwoo made a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like agreement.

You walked over to the side of the bed and tugged her blanket loose before draping it over her. She didn’t fight it. In fact, she curled into it immediately, pulling the edge up to her chin like someone who had suddenly remembered how comfortable beds were.

Your hand paused when you noticed her still watching you. “What?”

She pushed herself up from the bed, leaning closer as her hand carefully cupped your cheek.

“Your lip. . .”

Her thumb carefully grazed over the wound that was slowly healing.

“Yeah, It’s getting bet—” You didn't get to finish when she kissed you.

Jiwoo leaned forward with the clumsy confidence of someone whose brain had decided thinking was optional tonight. Her hand stayed on your cheek, thumb still resting near the fading cut on your lip as her mouth brushed against yours.

Soft.

Warm.

And slightly off-center.

For a second you froze, more surprised than anything else.

Jiwoo pulled back just as quickly, blinking at you like she was trying to check if the world had tilted.

“I love you.”

The words slipped out of her like they had been waiting behind her teeth all night.

The room went quiet.

Jiwoo’s eyes widened a little, like her own brain had just caught up to what she’d said.

“…I said that out loud.”

You stared at her.

She slowly sank back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling like it might rescue her from the situation.

“I’m drunk,” she added quickly.

“That’s obvious.”

“That means it doesn’t count.”

“That’s not how that works.”

Jiwoo groaned softly and dragged the blanket halfway over her face.

“I knew I shouldn’t have finished that drink.”

You crossed your arms, still standing beside the bed.

“You had one.”

“It was a powerful one.”

“It was practically nothing.”

She peeked at you from under the blanket, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re not helping right now.”

“And you just said you love me.”

Her face turned a deeper shade of pink.

“No, I didn't.” she argued weakly.

“You literally said ‘I love you.’”

“And you're not gonna say anything back?”

You blinked once, then smiled at her like you had the whole world sitting quietly in front of you.

“I love you too, Jiwoo.”

For a moment, she didn’t react.

Jiwoo just stared at you.

The words hung in the air. Then her eyes widened slowly.

“…You said it back.”

“You asked.” You shrugged lightly, though the softness in your expression gave you away.

“That’s not why people say it!”

“You seemed concerned.”

Jiwoo pushed herself up on her elbows, blanket bunching around her waist as she looked at you like you had just done something completely unreasonable.

“You’re supposed to hesitate,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m drunk!”

“You’re still Jiwoo.”

“That’s not the point!”

You laughed quietly at that, the sound warm and low in the quiet room.

Jiwoo stared at you for another second, her brain clearly trying to process several things at once. 

You had just said it back.

Like it was simple.

Like it was obvious.

Her shoulders slowly relaxed as she sank back into the mattress again.

“…You’re really unfair,” she muttered.

“How?”

“You say things like that so casually.”

You leaned slightly against the edge of the bed.

“It wasn’t casual.”

Jiwoo turned her head toward you again.

You met her gaze without hesitation.

“I meant it.”

The room fell quiet again, though this time it felt softer. 

Jiwoo blinked slowly, the last traces of sleep finally catching up to her.

“…Good,” she murmured.

Her hand tugged the blanket back up to her chin. “Because I’m not taking it back tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember half of tonight.”

“I will remember that part.”

Her eyes were already closing. “Probably,” she added sleepily, “the only smart thing I said all night.”

You reached over and pulled the blanket a little higher around her shoulder.

“Go to sleep, Jiwoo.”

She hummed faintly in response.

Within seconds her breathing evened out, soft and steady against the pillow.

You stayed there a moment longer, watching her curl deeper into the blanket like the world had finally become comfortable enough to rest in.

Then you reached for the light switch.

The room dimmed into quiet darkness.

Before stepping out, you glanced back one last time.

“Lightweight,” you murmured fondly and closed the door.