12
All Changmin remembers in the morning are bits and pieces of the party.
Yunho invited him and he brought Yoochun with him.
There was loud music and endless amounts of alcohol, lines of white powder on flat mirrors and books and counter tops and people shooting up in the bathrooms.
He remembers finding Yoochun in the living room dancing with some guy with orange hair and glasses, so high out of his fucking mind he probably thought it was him.
And he remembers hitting him so hard his body flew across the room, crashing into the coffee table.
Changmin opens his eyes and he's not in his house.
Yoochun is sleeping with a bloodied lip and swollen eyes. His shoulder has crusted over lacerations and he's twitching.
"Fuck," he brings his hand to his head and shakes it until an explosion of pain trembles against his temples and he falls back onto his pillow and tries to sleep it off.
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