#* jaebum

“onward, ho!” the former acolyte declares with a squeal, pointing a finger forward as she presses into the male, legs wrapped around his waist tightly. she’s drunk—obviously—though a few glances cast at the younger indicates that he’s not far from being intoxicated himself. maybe. jiyeon isn’t too sure—nor does she care all too much—with the way her mind spins with the aid of alcohol and the shivers that dance along her spine due to the soaked clothing sticking to cold skin, there was little to really think about.

“i’m cold—jaebummie.” she whines nonetheless, not the slightest bit helpful as she presses her lips to his skin, pouting against it. “we should have just stayed and kept partying! it was just a little rain!” 

wait.

was it really rain?

did that warehouse even have a roof?

somehow jiyeon always knew it’d end up like this.

not like this—this, specifically.

but something along the lines of that was always bound to happen eventually—it was the price of living (entirely too intimately) with someone of the opposite gender.

nevertheless—even with some sort of foreboding knowledge about the sooner or laters of such a thing happening—park jiyeon has no fucking idea what to do. though maybe she really is stupid—because if anything, it’s not the hand on her that bothers her, or the pain at the back of her head upon hitting the floor, or whatever kind of looming awkwardness that was bond to hit, but the fact that it’s dark.

pitch dark.

why is it dark.

“you broke it.” comes the accusation, sending the male on top of her a pointed look that she knew he’d miss either way—he broke the power.