the first thing he notices as he blinks himself awake is that the celling looks nothing like the one in his room. he looks around the room, failing to recognize anything. this room doesn't belong to anyone he knows.
cool. he loves when this happens. https://twitter.com/doyutaro/status/1387842379965665283

yet, for someone waking up with a headache, alone, in an unfamiliar bed, doyoung feels surprisingly calm. comfortable even. that's never the case. he feels awkward usually, having to give the thank you, last night was great,, see you never speech is the trickiest big.

it's not like he does this a lot. he does it sometimes. he's done it enough times to have an idea of how he handles it.
he doesn't know how what makes this time different. did he suddenly get used to doing this?

he gets out of the bed, finding his clothes neatly folded and placed on the armchair in the corner, his phone sitting on top of them, charging. huh.
he doesn't remember putting them there, or plugging his phone. or coming to the apartment.

not remembering is a first for him too.
does he feel so calm because he doesn't remember, he asks himself.

fully dressed he opens the door and peeks out. there's no one there.
so he allows himself a few moments to be nosy, looking around the living room. it's where the memories start to come back.
he definitely sat on the couch. he in fact started undressing himself there.

he remembers the stranger's face, making out with him. he also remembers and how insistent he was that they should hook up, and the stranger insisting in return that they shouldn't. that he was too drunk.
nothing happened. good call on the stranger's end.

the apartment door clicks open and closed, startling doyoung.
he turns to see the guy from last night, dressed in activewear, carrying two to-go cups.
"oh, you're awake," he says, "morning."
"morning," doyoung returns. he's still blanking on the name.

he points at the guy, wondering what the best way would be to ask him for his name.
"yuta," the guy says, his tone of voice showing that he isn't surprised at all.
yuta does sound familiar, actually.
"right. sorry."

"how are you feeling?"
"okay," he fakes a smile.
"here." yuta hands him one of the cups. "for the hangover."
doyoung closes what little space is between them in quick steps, not wanting to keep yuta waiting.
"thank you." he says as he accepts it. he takes a sip out of it next.

and the plot thickens.
the liquid is thin and earthy. he knew that it would be ice cold, he can feel the temperature.
he scrunches his face. he expected coffee.
"not a fan of green juice?"
"not really. but thank you. and thank you for last night."

"it's alright."
"it's not. i was difficult to deal with."
"it was cute."
"what?" doyoung asks, narrowing his eyes. why would anyone think that behavior is cute?
"what are you doing this weekend?"
"you can't be serious."
"but i am," yuta says to him, giving him a smile.

doyoung stills, considering it.
he's curious, he decides. what will happen if he says yes.
"i'm free."
"okay."
"but no green juice the morning after," he interrupts before yuta can say anything else. "i want an iced latte."
"deal."