“Yuhok,” Enlai slurred, his words a tipsy waltz. “You’re my favourite historical artifact.”

His cheeks flushed like a vintage wine as he leaned against the bar. His dishevelled hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Yuhok, equally smitten, grinned. His glasses sat askew on his nose, and his scholarly facade had crumbled. “And you, my dear Lai, are the lost book of my library. Let’s get you back there.”

Enlai gazed at Yuhok as if he’s deciphering a particularly cryptic inscription. His touch was gentle, as if afraid Yuhok might crumble like ancient parchment.

His fingers grazed Yuhok’s face, soft, tender more like brushing across the expanse of his skin. His eyes turned into small slits, gaze pinned like a hawk, as if he had some very important tasks at hand.

“Lai, what are you doing?”

“Too much dust on this artifact, tsk.”

Sejin snorted. Enlai glared back.

It was way past midnight—the night sky dark and the weather rusty. Yuhok had been trying to lure Enlai home for an hour, but this man was stubbornly drunk, wearing his heart on his soju-stained sleeve. He kept confessing love like a bard reciting forgotten ballads, weaving metaphors until the room itself became a tale of longing.

Their friends—Sejin, Dahyun, Yoshi, and Lila—watched from the sidelines, amused. With nearly everything packed, they stood there waiting for their friend to finish his hijinks. The residual crowd at Lucky Star was now enjoying a tipsy tango of epic proportions.

Unwilling to be shelved, Enlai extended his hands and caressed Yuhok's cheek, his hands trembling. “I’m serious,” he insisted, his words weaving a tipsy spell. “You’re my Atlantis!”

Yuhok raised an eyebrow. “And you’re my Rosetta Stone, Lai,” he countered, his voice a blend of mirth and affection. “But we need to go home now.”

Sejin leaned over to Dahyun. “Do you think he’ll remember any of this tomorrow?”

Dahyun shook her head. “Nah. It’ll be like a drunken time-travel adventure.”

Enlai’s laughter, buoyant and carefree, echoed in the room. They had celebrated—over food, drinks, and the news of their new house. But tonight, their new house, the win and Yuhok had carried Enlai away, farther than planned.

Across the room, Yoshi and Lila engaged in a playful sword fight, their chopsticks clashing like miniature blades. Yoshi’s voice cut through the revelry. “Enlai,” he called out, “if you’re the Byzantine Empire, can I be the Ottoman conquest?”

Enlai squinted at him, the alcohol blurring the edges of his vision as he stepped closer. “Only if you promise not to sack my city,” he retorted, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Yuhok, ever the anchor, stepped forward. His arms encircled Enlai, and suddenly they were spinning—a tipsy waltz defying gravity. The world blurred around them, a carousel spinning faster, fuelled by soju and the intoxicating proximity of their bodies.

Enlai’s laughter bubbled up, effervescent and contagious. His feet dangled in mid-air as Yuhok hoisted him onto his shoulder, the room tilting sideways. The others watched, amused and bemused, their eyes tracing the arc of this unexpected gymnastics.

“He won’t even try, Lai,” Yuhok declared, addressing his boyfriend. “Let’s go now.”

Enlai’s protests were half-hearted, his kicks more like playful taps. His hands clenched into fists, and he pouted. “Let me go, baby,” he nagged, the endearment slipping out effortlessly. Yuhok’s shoulder was both a perch and a fortress—a place where Enlai felt simultaneously vulnerable and safe right now.

As the room spun around him, Enlai clung to Yuhok like a sailor in a storm. The soju had eliminated his bits of reality, and his heart swirled with emotions he’d kept hidden for far too long.

“Are you a runaway prince?”

“I am a librarian my love.”

Quite a scene, but Yuhok didn’t decide on stopping. He would rather enjoy this once in a lifetime opportunity.

“Then let me go!” Enlai’s protests didn’t stop, but Yuhok’s grip remained firm. With his left hand, Yuhok picked up Enlai’s bag, and with his right, he secured his boyfriend as they stumbled outside the door, the car waiting.

The others followed close.

Outside, the night air embraced them, cool and conspiratorial. Yuhok deposited Enlai into the passenger seat of the waiting car, his movements sure despite their intoxication. Enlai grinned up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Where are we going, Yuhok?” he mumbled, his words slurred but laced with curiosity.

Yuhok grinned mischievously, "To our home, my dear Lai."

Waving the friends outside their car drove away.

As they sailed through the abandoned streets, the city seemed to catch its breath, as if aware of their tipsy excursion. Streetlights cast warm hues over Enlai's face, revealing the flush of alcohol on his cheeks. His eyes lingered on Yuhok, tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the way his fingers gripped the driving wheel.

"You know," Enlai said, his voice dreamy, "I've always wanted to explore the ruins of our love Yuhok," He hiccupped, then corrected himself, “prince.”

Yuhok chuckled, the sound resonating deep within the car’s confines. His eyes flickered to Enlai, a smirk playing on his lips. “Prince, huh?” he teased, his hand casually resting on the steering wheel. “Perhaps I should wear a crown next time.”

“Uh huh,” Enlai nodded, “One with a big Emerald!”

“Emeralds are passé. I’d prefer one studded with stardust—fit for a love that defies gravity.”

And then, with the audacity of a thief in the night, Enlai’s fingers crept toward Yuhok’s seat, seeking warmth and adventure. Before Yuhok could react, Enlai’s hand found its target—an audacious grab of the groin that left them both breathless.
A bold, impulsive grab that sent a jolt of electricity through them both, the car swerving dangerously as Yuhok's grip on the wheel faltered.

The car swerved, tires skidding on wet asphalt. Yuhok’s grip loosened, and for a moment, they were suspended in time—a collision of desire and recklessness. His eyes widened, pupils dilating, torn between amusement and arousal.

“Enlai,” he growled, voice rough, almost livid, “not here baby.”

“You do not love me anymore!” The Enlai waterfall had started flowing.

Yuhok’s gaze softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his tough exterior. “I love you, Lai,” he whispered, his breath warm against Enlai’s lips. “But this is not the place.” His thumb traced the curve of Enlai’s knuckles.

Enlai’s heart clenched. The soju had blurred his judgment, but it hadn’t dulled his ache. “I don’t want to stop,” he confessed, raw, desperate and horny.

Yuhok’s expression softened, a smile playing on his lips. “Then let’s get back home.”

Starting the car engine, he started the ride again. Enlai stuck to the window, his eyes wide, hiccups returning every other minute.

“Would you still love me if I was mafia?”

Yuhok knew it would be a long ride.

“I would arrest you, Lai but love you nonetheless.”

“What about a worm?”

“Then I’d find the most elegant apple for you to crawl upon.”

“And a-”

On the other side the four stood horrified, quite astounded at the whole drama that had just floored. It was brand new to them, this chaotic side of Enlai. He was a sweetheart either way, but a drunk romantic? Quite a biggie.
The car carrying Enlai and his love interest drove away, leaving the group in a state of shock.

Sejin rubbed his eyes as if to erase the scene he’d witnessed. “Is he really the Han Enlai we know?” he murmured, his disbelief palpable. Dahyun, lost in her own thoughts, nodded absentmindedly. Her gaze flitted beyond the graffiti-covered walls, perhaps seeking answers in the flickering neon.

Lila, leaning against the wall, observed it all with the quiet intensity of a detective piecing together a puzzle. She had always been attuned to subtleties—the currents beneath the surface. To her, Enlai’s drunken romanticism was merely another layer of his multifaceted personality—a puzzle piece she had anticipated but never seen in action.

Yoshi, prominently less patient, clenched his fists. “We should have tagged along,” he grumbled, frustration oozing through his words. The night had spiralled beyond their control, weaving them into a web of choices and consequences. What had started as a casual outing now felt like a high-stakes drama.

Dahyun scoffed. “Where would we four even sit? On the bonnet?” Her practicality cut through the tension.

“How did we end up like this?” Sejin muttered. “We were just supposed to grab a drink and—” He stopped, realising that their situation had escalated far beyond a simple night out celebrating.

Dahyun shot him a withering look. “Sejin, if Enlai hadn’t insisted on staying a little longer, we won’t be here.”

“That’s why we should have tagged along with the couple,” Sejin protested weakly.

The road light flickered. It became the fourth member of their group—an indifferent witness to their plight. Perhaps, they mused, if they’d chosen a more bustling location, they wouldn’t be stranded here.
The gum wrapper fluttered into Sejin’s hands. It was silver foil, crinkled from his after-snack snack.

Yoshi’s phone beeped, and he squinted at the screen. “No signal. Great. Maybe we can build a makeshift transmitter out of toothpicks and gum wrappers.”

“Enough,” Lila said, her voice low and grumpy. “At least we’re not alo-”

“Lila?”

As if summoned by their collective bewilderment, the stranger appeared—a man who seemed to materialize from the shadows. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his eyes held the glint of ancient knowledge. Nick Thorne, they would later learn, but for now, he was merely the harbinger of their next choice.

He stepped closer, and the streetlamp caught the silver streaks in his hair. The rain intensified, as if the universe leaned in to listen.

In the midst of the group's collective confusion, Yoshi voiced the question on everyone's mind.
“Who is this, Lila?” he inquired, his curiosity piqued by the stranger's sudden appearance.

The man smiled—a wry twist of lips that held both sorrow and amusement. “Names are mere nouns,” he replied. "Call me Nick Thorne, if you want to. But what matters is that I can be your ride for the night!”