#;badpoem

don’t get him wrong; jongdae isn’t exactly the best person to be with when someone would want to spend a saturday night dancing in dim rooms, waiting for bad decisions to happen just before three in the morning, all glitter and smoke and elbows brushing against one another. no, that’s not what he’s in for during saturday nights.

“it’s not much but i hope this will do,” jongdae notions at two freshly made red currant rum, ice clinking as the elven bartender pushes to their direction. “you really can’t expect me to, you know.” he tilts his head to a swarm of young adolescents near the dj booth. it just doesn’t make any sense for him to waste such energy when most of it ran out throughout the week. he takes his glass for a couple of sips—a little electrifying at first before savoring fruity notes to a bitter aftertaste. it’s all good; much better than jumping aimlessly at some music and become twice as exhausted as you originally were.

“anyway,” he remembers his companion—yes, companion, because this isn’t exactly a date. his sole reason for taking her here was due to a successful pairwork in one of their subjects. jongdae had owe her a drink (or maybe two, three. who knows?) and he’s only fulfilling it now. “olivia, right? we had a good run during our pairwork.” and then silence. what’s next? jongdae took a couple more sips, only realizing then that he’s not a good conversationalist either.