drunk · best friends · romantic · apologetic · flushed face · vulnerability · confession · loss of control · intimate setting · emotional
Frustration had chased Solar home, sending him straight to his room where he locked the door. Minutes stretched into silence until you finally pushed it open. The air inside was stifling, sharp with the smell of alcohol. Solar was slumped on the edge of his bed, his head hanging low. Four empty bottles stood witness on the bedside table. At the sound of the door, he turned slowly. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed and unfocused as they settled on you. A slow, drowsy smile touched his lips. 'Hey, darlin',' he slurred, the words warm and thick. 'What are you doing in my room?'