*Hi, everyone! Day 1 [here](https://old.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qpo9qg/home_from_the_nightclub_mf_inc/) for those interested.*
—–
Another Saturday night home studying. Sure, Min-ho thought, could have taken some time for himself to relax, but if he had thought *high school* had been bad for ignored homework assignments piling up, two years at university had taught him that he’d had it easy before. If he spent even a day on his phone instead of in front of a screen, he paid for it the next day. So…study.
Speaking of…he looked at his phone, and saw that it was nearly one in the morning. Back at his assignment and decided he really wasn’t making much headway on it. Truth be told, he really hadn’t gotten much done since he started after dinner; for all that he’d written he may as well not have even started. Maybe it was time to wrap it up for the evening and start over in the morning.
With a firm resolve to master inorganic chemistry by day’s end tomorrow, he closed his laptop and went downstairs to the room off the stairs where they kept their TV. He turned it on, and started up the first episode in the first series in the list. He was more interested in emptying his mind than he was in whatever came on first.
He had just settled into a mindless drama set back in the *Joseon* period when he heard the front door open. *Oh? I didn’t even know Hyeon was out,* he thought to himself, a little surprised that he hadn’t noticed his sister leave to the evening. But since his parents going to sleep three hours earlier had barely registered on his mental radar, maybe that wasn’t so surprising after all. She was home at a decent time; after last week, he hoped tonight she’d had a better time at the club.
Or maybe she hadn’t. When she came upstairs and stood in the doorway, he saw her eyes were red in her tear-and-mascara-stained face and if she didn’t look *quite* as drunk as she was last time, she certainly looked more upset.
“Everything OK?” he asked her.
“Oh, sure,” she said, despondently. “Just fine.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
She told him the whole story, how she and her two friends arrived at the nightclub, and were immediately introduced to three reasonably handsome guys two tables over. How she’d had fun, dancing with all three guys throughout the night before they started to pair off, how the one she paired with was good-looking, funny, how she had given him her number on a napkin and he his…but at the end of the night, after her friends had left with their dates he went to the washroom…and never came back. How she waited for almost an hour before giving up, how she had found that napkin on the floor under his chair.
How she came home alone. Again.
“Even some salmon-faced woman at the bar left with some guy!” she finished. “Her! I just must be the ugliest woman alive!” And started to cry again. Again, he took a metaphorical step back and looked – really *looked* – at his sister. Really, she *wasn’t*, especially after she had toned down the makeup. He didn’t really understand himself why his older sister had such trouble at the clubs, and told her so.
“Yeah, well, you’re the only one who thinks so,” she sniffed, then pointed at the TV. “What are you watching?”
“I don’t know. Whatever happened to be on.”
“Looks good to me. You going to finish the show? I’ll watch it too. Just let me go change.”
“You OK to manage?” he asked, then replayed what he had just said in his head. His face reddened.
She looked at him oddly. “Yes,” she said, speaking each word carefully. “I might be drunk, but I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” She started upstairs, then paused at the base of the staircase. “Thanks, though.”
Cheeks red, he nodded and concentrated on the TV.
A few minutes later she came back in her favorite nightshirt, an oversized T-shirt that hung halfway to her knees and wet hair wrapped in a towel. She climbed onto the couch, and sat beside him. “Pass me that blanket, will you? It’s kind of cold tonight.” He passed it over, and she snuggled in close to Min, draping the blanket over herself and partly over him to capture their shared heat. Then she settled in to watch the show.
“You know,” she said after a few minutes, “you really are the only one who’s very nice to me.”
“Well, I’m your brother, after all. I have no choice,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “Even still.” They watched a few more minutes together, then she said, softly, “Thanks. At least one person my own age doesn’t treat me like some kind of leper.”
“None of your friends do?” he said.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes at his put-on denseness. “At least one *guy* my own age doesn’t treat me like some kind of leper. Even if he *is* related to me.”
They’d finished the first episode and had just started on the second when he became embarrassingly aware of his hand on her shirt on her thigh. She didn’t seem to notice, and he debated with himself whether to draw attention to it by moving it, or to just leave it where it was and in the end, he left it.
At least until she shifted herself down, settling deeper into the couch. As she did, her nightshirt rode up her leg, his hand with it, until it was just at the joint where her leg met her hip. Yawning, he pulled his arm out from under the blanket, stretched, and – not knowing where what to do with it, put his arm around her shoulder. As he did, she snuggled in close to him and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand on his arm. They watched more of the show.
“Here, let me move my arm,” he told her after another fifteen minutes. “A bit cramped here.” He pulled his arm around her away, and as he did, she shifted back up and crossed her legs on the couch. He pulled his arm back under the blanket and down…right between her legs. The cotton of her underwear was hot and the puff of her hair was warm on his wrist, and they both jumped as his hand came down in just the wrong spot. He snatched his hand back.
“Hm, er…I’m kind of hot now,” she said, pulling the blanket off of her and getting up off the couch. He fumbled for the controller and paused the show.
“Sorry,” he told her, looking down at the floor, “That was an accident…”
“It’s OK, don’t worry about it,” she told him. Really,” she said, as he continued to look anywhere but at her. “Accidents happen. Let’s finish watching the show.”
“I–”
She took his chin with her hand and looked him in the eyes. “*It’s all right,*” she repeated, softly. “C’mon, don’t make this weird. I’m just getting into the story.” Nodding, he sat back on the couch, and unpaused the show. She sat crosslegged back beside him and covered them both back up in the blanket, where they watched the rest of the episode. When it was over, she pulled the blanket off of them, and he couldn’t help notice that her nightshirt had ridden up again, and he had full view of her underwear and everything it didn’t quite cover once again. She looked at him looking, then – placing her feet on the floor – leaned over and whispered, “Good night, Snail.”
Got to her feet, turned off the light. Climbed the stairs and went to bed, leaving Min-ho alone with his thoughts on the couch in the light of the television.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qvhz46/home_from_the_nightclub_day_2_mf_inc