SEVEN

Dammit.

He's a better drinker than I thought.

"Done." He says, slamming the emptied glass on the counter and dragging his sleeve over his lips. Then he smirks when he sees me hesitating.

"What— already quitting?"

"You think." I mutter under my breath, ignoring that I was starting to get drunk. Then I pour myself another glass, tipping the entire thing down my throat.

Then I shoot him a tipsy smile.

"Now you."

His silver eyes narrow, more unfocused than before. His cheeks are even redder now, and I tease him for it as he drinks another glass.

"You look like a tomato, Jimin. You sure you want to keep going?"

He looks up at me, eyes roaming.

"Just shut up and drink." He says, words slurring a bit.

I laugh, and end up spilling some of the alcohol on the countertop when I pour from the bottle again. Then I blink lazily, swirling the liquid in the cup before tipping it down.

My voice is louder now, and I point in his direction.

"I didn't want to tell you this because I thought your feelings would get hurt, but I think you're drunk!"

Then I groan, the cup slipping from my hand. I hear it clatter on the ground, eyes fluttering as the side of my head touches the cold top of the counter.

I hear a soft whine.

"Stop.... talking so loud." Someone's saying, and I feel a hand grip my shoulder. "You're hurting my head, Seven."

"You're hurting mine!" I yelp, pushing off the counter and looking into a pair of silver circles. "Oh, this color is pretty. What is it called again?"

I reach out to touch it, but touch something soft and smooth instead.

"That's my mouth, idiot." Jimin murmurs, and I look up dumbly. Everything's so blurry now I can barely see, and there's this lightness that's filling me inside out.

"Huh?"

"It's my mouth." I hear him repeat, and laugh out loud just because I want to. He laughs too, and then I feel his fingertips pulling on my bottom lip.

"See? This is your mouth. Are you a child— you should've learned this when you were three years old."

Then my eyes focus for a brief second, and I see Jimin's figure. He's smiling, and it's so pretty that it makes me smile wide too.

"Smile more." I slur, pointing at the corner of his lips. "See? You look so much better when you look all happy and fluffy. Not stupid."

He nods blankly. Then he stumbles backwards, and my eyes widen.

I reach for him.

"Hey—"

My arms wrap around his waist, but then my feet tangle over themselves and I lose my balance completely. The world tilts flat, and I wince as my head spins, the back of my hand hitting the ground.

"Ow— Chim? Are you okay?"

I don't hear a reply, so I force my eyes open to check on him. But then I see his surprised face inches away from mine, silver eyes wide.

"Seven...?"

I blink twice, realizing he's fine. Yawning, I pat the top of his raven hair and rest my head back on his chest. My eyelids feel heavy now, and now all I want is to sleep.

The last thing I feel is an arm wrapping around my waist before everything fades to black.

________________________

I wake up with a killer headache.

I'm on a bed I don't recognize, and I suck in a breath as I sit up. It's a regular size, so it can't be Jimin's. And if it wasn't Jimin's, then—

Then the door cracks open, and I blink into Jungkook's curious doe eyes.

"'Noona!" He says with a relieved smile, and I rub my knuckles into the side of my head. I felt so dizzy, nausea rolling through the bottom of my chest.

Jungkook winces when he hears me groan out loud. "That's probably the hangover. I'll ask Hoseok hyung to get something for you, but—"

"Hangover? I drank?"

Jungkook freezes, before nodding. And I just stare at him with my mouth wide open— I literally had no memory of even putting a glass of alcohol to my lips. When? How?

"Noona, you drank so much last night." He sighs softly, approaching me and patting the top of my head. "I actually found you on top of Ji—"

Then he pauses. "Actually it might be better if you don't know. Come on."

I cross my fingers, frowning.

"What were you about to say? I didn't— I didn't really hear."

"Nothing." He says, back to his smiling again as I walk out of the room after him. The inside of the house is cold, and Jungkook hands me a white oversized sweatshirt he had fisted in his hand.

"This smells nice." I mutter sleepily as I tug it over my head, and he laughs, watching me pull at the hood. "Like— uh, laundry detergent."

"That's Jimin hyung's favorite sweatshirt, Noona."

I go back to frowning, shooting his grinning face a sharp look. "Don't tell him I said that."

Downstairs is so chaotic I almost turn and go straight back up. Jin's yelling at Yoongi— at everyone, actually. Because of what a bad job they were doing cleaning his rugs.

"All of you are going to get married later on!" He shouts, holding a mop in his right hand. "And God bless the people that you do! What am I supposed to do if you can't even take care after yourself?"

Then he notices me and Jungkook, and bursts into a relieved smile.

"Seven— can you please help me? These idiots can't do anything."

I nod, tugging up the loose sleeves of the white sweatshirt to my elbows when the sound of glass shattering echoes through the entire building.

"Namjoon." Jin seethes, and the leader of the group looks up with a frightened look in his eyes. He'd dropped one of the cleaner bottles, and now the floor was messy with glass and soap.

"Go upstairs this moment."

"Here, I got it." I say quickly, wincing at the alcoholic smell. "Jungkook, can you get the trash on the table?"

Then Taehyung suddenly hides behind me, his large eyes flickering up nervously under his blue locks. I raise a curious eyebrow when he wraps his arms around my waist.

"What's wrong?" I whisper, and he points at the corner of the room.

There's a vase there, shattered to pieces on the ground.

I gasp.

"I-I promise I didn't mean to." He fumbles, and I look quickly at Jin. He hadn't noticed yet, grumbling as he tidies up the countertop. "Can you help me?"

"I thought you guys were assassins!" I yelp under my breath as I hurry, dustpan in hand. "You know, not knock over and break everything?"

"When hyung screamed, I panicked." He protests softly, and I look back nervously at Jin, whose head is still thankfully turned. "Thanks—"

Then his eyes go wide.

"Isn't this Jimin's favorite sweatshirt?"

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." I say, scooping the colored glass into my palms and shaking them into a bag. "If someone says that one more time, I'll just take it off."

"Why is she wearing my favorite sweatshirt?"

You've got to be kidding me.