Head Canons: Aespa - Morning After

Karina

The night before had been great. If not the best.

Alcohol was introduced and it never left; a few drinks, then a few more than your self-assigned limit, which you'd crossed somewhere around the third hour without much resistance. You'd woken up fine, clear-headed even, comfortable in the specific way a night well-spent leaves you.

Somehow the hangover wasn't yours to deal with this morning. It was hers

Then Jimin started pacing.

You watched her from the bed, propped on one elbow, still deciding if you were fully awake. She'd been at it long enough to have worn something into the carpet — back and forth, back and forth, hands occasionally pressing to her temples. She was wearing your shirt. Mismatched buttons, collar just as carefree.

It clearly the closest thing within reach when she'd needed something. And It barely covered what needed covering.

"Jimin."

She stopped.

"Okay." She pointed at you. "Okay."

The resolve that was instantaneous just as quickly wavered.

She found it again.

"I'll take responsibility."

You said nothing, mostly because you had no idea what she meant and were too entertained to interrupt.

"For. This." She gestured at the room, at the discarded clothes, at the bottles from last night, at the morning itself in its entirety. 

The gesture helped clear it up, mostly just for her.

"Whatever this is. I'll take responsibility." She iterated

"You'll take responsibility?"

"Yes. Me." 

An answer not really matching your question.

You'd known she was like this. You'd seen it last night the particular way her brain operated, quick and sideways, following logic that only fully made sense on the day after, at most. You'd smiled at it last night. Leaned into it, even. You'd assumed the alcohol was a contributing factor.

Apparently not.

"Jimin—"

"It was a mistake."

"A mistake?."

"Yes. Probably." A pause. "Maybe?" Another pause, longer. "How was I?"

You blinked.

She heard herself immediately. Watched the words land and made a visible decision to abandon them entirely. All of it happen and decided before you could even speak.

"That's — I didn't — forget I said that. That never happened." She pressed her fingers back to her temples. "The point is. The point." A beat, as if she'd expected the point to be ready and waiting. "The point is that last night—"

She stopped. Looked at you.

Looked at the bed.

Looked back at you with the expression of someone whose initial assessment may have been hasty.

"What happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" Concern, genuine.

"Of course I do." Haughty. Completely transparent. She'd taken the question as a challenge somehow.

"Not fully," you offer to concede.

"...same," she admitted, barely.

"Okay." Louder, decisive, changing her own subject. She nodded vigorously — the nod of someone answering a question much larger than the one asked. "Okay. We — the two of us — we're both—" she ran out of words and substituted a thumbs up, smile hastily attached.

"I'll take responsibility."

"Again with that, what are you—"

"Also, who are you?"

"Jimin—"

"Joking." Immediate. "Obviously I know you, I know exactly who you are, you're—you." She pointed at you again, the gesture of someone anchoring themselves. "We know each other. That's established. That's—" her eyes drifted upward, finding the ceiling, finding it unfamiliar. "Where the fuck are we."

"My apartment."

"Right." She nodded and acted like she'd known. "I asked for that."

"Jimin, sit down. Everything is fine."

She walked back to the bed. Reached for the pitcher on the nightstand, poured a glass, and somehow by the end of it was sitting beside you, legs folded, water in hand, the chaos having burned through its own fuel. She looked almost settled

Almost.

"I'll take responsibility."

"You have to stop saying that."