After the door unlocked, Seo-in froze at the sound that followed.
"Ah, shit!"
Luca's voice—loud, raw, and unmistakably slurred—echoed through the hallway. His footsteps were uneven, clumsy. He was drunk.
"I shouldn't have been drinking ... bastard," he muttered to himself.
Seo-in's heart dropped. Luca never drank—not willingly. Panic rose in her chest as she switched on the lights, stepping quickly toward the hallway. He stumbled inside, struggling to kick off his shoes, cursing under his breath.
"Luca…" she began cautiously, her voice trembling despite herself. She didn't even try to hide the fear in it. He didn't seem to notice her at first—still mumbling, still lost somewhere inside that fog of alcohol and exhaustion.
Then his eyes found her.
"...You—Schatz, aren't you going home?" he slurred with a crooked smile. He had forgotten they lived together.
"What time is it?" he asked, squinting down at his wrist, but his vision blurred too much to see.
Seo-in's chest tightened. His face was flushed, his balance unsteady, and the familiar clarity in his eyes was gone. She reached for him anyway, slipping a hand under his arm to steady his weight.
"It's late, Luca," she said softly, guiding him toward the couch. "Come sit down."
He obeyed without resistance, collapsing onto the cushions with a dull thud. His gaze lingered on her face—a little too long, and just slightly too unfocused.
Seo-in sighed, crouching beside him. She brushed his damp hair from his forehead so he could at least see her properly, though she doubted he'd remember any of this in the morning.
"What happened?" she asked gently.
Luca blinked sluggishly, then gave a low, humorless chuckle—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
"Everything," he muttered. Then, quieter: "...Dad called today."
And suddenly, it made sense.
Seo-in swallowed hard, guilt tightening her throat. She should've been here. She shouldn't have left him to deal with whatever storm his mind had conjured on its own. Slowly, she placed a palm against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath the fabric.
"Your father called?" she repeated, barely above a whisper. He never talks about his father.
Luca chuckled again—this time bitterly. He tilted his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling instead of her. "Yeah," he slurred. "Said I was a—" His voice faltered. He closed his eyes briefly. "—a disappointment."
Then, suddenly, he lurched forward—not toward the bathroom like she expected—but straight into her arms. His face pressed into her shoulder, his fists clutching weakly at the back of her jacket as if holding on to the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.
"I just wanted to fit in," he murmured, words muffled against the fabric. "Didn't even like the taste..." His breath hitched. "Didn't want to—throw up."
Seo-in froze for a second, her hand hovering uncertainly in the air, before gently resting it on the back of his head.
"I know," she whispered.
The room fell silent except for his uneven breathing. And in that silence, between the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft ticking of the clock, she realized—he wasn't drunk because he wanted to be. He was drunk because for once, he couldn't stand being himself.
Seo-in was beginning to realize that loving a man like Luca would never be easy. He could treat her like a queen—but the trauma he carried was a double-edged sword, and she only had one bullet left to protect herself.
She had known early on that their relationship would never follow the expected path. Luca's past had left visible scars across his entire being—from his mannerisms to the way his thoughts spiraled. He tried to hide them, afraid of scaring her away. Yet she stayed. Because despite the jagged fragments of his past slowly eroding any semblance of normality, they had somehow found something strangely beautiful amidst the ruins—something fragile, but real.
Silence stretched between them as Seo-in gently combed her fingers through Luca's sweat-damp hair, his body heavy against her in the dim light of their apartment. She could feel the weight of his exhaustion—not just from tonight, but from years of carrying wounds no one else could see.
Protecting him isn't about shielding him from himself, she realized. It's about standing beside him while he fights his own battles—even when the blade swings both ways.
Her arms tightened around him slightly as he mumbled something incoherent into her shoulder, his breath warm against her collarbone. The scent of alcohol clung to him like a second skin—but beneath it, she could still smell the faint trace of the soap he always used after his restaurant shifts, because he hated coming home smelling like grease.
Even drunk, his hands—those callused, work-worn hands—still brushed against her knuckles absentmindedly, as if seeking reassurance in the dark. And in those tiny, familiar details, Seo-in remembered exactly why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place—despite everything.
Maybe that was enough reason to stay through nights like this.
Not because she had answers or knew how to fix him, but because she was willing to weather the chaos beside someone who was worth every risk that came with loving him completely.
***
In the morning, Luca tried to open his eyes. He had fallen asleep still wearing his work clothes—wrinkled, stained, and smelling faintly of alcohol. His head throbbed dully, every pulse a reminder of his own recklessness.
"Verdammt …" he thought, rolling onto his back with a low groan.
The ceiling above him spun slightly, and for a moment, he simply stared at it—resenting how easily one mistake could drag him back into this familiar shame.
"Why do I keep doing this…?"
A soft sound broke his thoughts. When he turned his head, Seo-in was there—standing beside the bed with a glass of water and a few painkillers resting in her palm.
"Here," she said gently.
He pushed himself upright with effort, avoiding her eyes.
"Thanks," he muttered hoarsely, taking the pills.
He hesitated for a moment before biting one lightly—grimacing at the bitterness—then swallowing the fragments with a gulp of water.
Seo-in didn't comment, only watched quietly, concern clouding her usually calm face.
Luca let out a weary sigh, guilt heavy in his chest.
"Idiot," he thought bitterly. "She shouldn't have to see me like this…"
Seo-in perched beside him on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing through his tangled hair with gentle familiarity. The gestur e was so tender it almost hurt. For a second, Luca leaned into her touch despite the self-loathing coiling in his chest. But then—memories from last night came crashing back, and he flinched away, the guilt settling deeper.
"I'm ... sorry," he muttered thickly, voice rough from sleep or something deeper. "For last night."
Her hand paused but didn't retreat. "You don't have to apologize," she said softly. "I understand."
Luca swallowed hard, her calmness only making the ache sharper. "Even if I screw up again?" he asked, almost in disbelief.
Her fingers resumed their slow, soothing rhythm through his hair. "Yes," she replied simply. "Even if you screw up again."
He stared at her, searching for a trace of pity, but there was none—only sincerity, quiet and unwavering. Something about it humbled him ... and frustrated him, too.
"Either you're the weird one," he muttered finally, trying to sit up straighter, "or I'm the idiot."
Seo-in chuckled softly, helping him settle against the headboard. "Maybe a bit of both," she said lightly, hands lingering on his shoulders for a moment before letting go.