#*bitna

“hey short stuff.” the irony and the inaccuracy of the nickname doesn’t slide past him, but with the tequila a white citrusy burn down his throat, everything else seems to drift off without a single care in the world. he’s lost minseo somewhereㅡthe question of “when” long lost and forgotten by the second glass. barry isn’t thinking of what isn’t there, not when bitna is in front of him. he nudges her with the bump of his shoulder, mouth quirked in a grin. “taking it easy?”