Tae-hyun woke with a headache sitting dull behind his eyes and no clear memory of how he'd ended up on the couch, a blanket pulled over him that he didn't remember claiming for himself.
"You're up," Jihan said from the kitchen doorway, two mugs of coffee in hand.
"Barely." Tae-hyun accepted one gratefully, pressing it against his temple before actually drinking any of it. "What happened last night? I remember the bar. I remember being angry at the entire concept of my own feelings. After that it's mostly fog."
"Min-woo brought you home. You were a mess."
"I don't even remember texting him." Tae-hyun frowned, trying to reconstruct the evening from whatever fragments remained. "I must have wanted someone there badly enough to do it anyway, even without remembering the decision."
"Sounds like it." Jihan sat across from him, cradling his own mug. "Whatever you said to him last night, it clearly meant something. He showed up in rough shape himself when he dropped you off."
