#dprteam

Character Information

Name: Christian Yu Occupation: Director

🢒 Christian Yu

Welcome to Amities Roleplay where the goal is to create a friendly atmosphere that allows you to meet people worth your time. 🐹

Platform: Mewe Age Limit: 16+ Writing Style: Semi-Lit General/Themed: General

Summary:

 Like watching a movie and already knowing the end No matter how hard we try to run away We’re always in the same place Always come back to me Again in the same place In the end, like this Back in place again Why is it so hard to leave Again in the same place - G Soul Circles

Paring: Dabin X FC (Jasmine)

Word Count: 2.1k

He’s drunk, Jasmine,” I shouldn’t have answered my phone. The only time Christian calls me is if it’s about Dabin. Considering we never actually grew to like each other, despite how much time we spent together, we didn’t make it a habit to speak. Over the last year though, his name has popped up on my phone more times than when I was actually dating his best friend for two years. 

“I’m busy, Christian,” 

I look over at my date who is busy grating a block of parmesan cheese over the pasta we spent n hour making. Dinner was finally done, the movie we’d ordered already set up, the condoms in my purse begging me to free them. 

“He’s asking for you,” he sighs. “He’s-,” 

He pauses, exhaling a large overdramatic breath. 

“He’s been crying, Jasmine. Please, just come get him. You know he’s good for the gas money,”

“I’m on a fucking date,” I whisper harshly. I didn’t mean to be cruel. Not to Christian at least who hasn’t done anything wrong other than letting him get this far. 

“That fucking explains it,” he says quietly. 

It stings. It burns. It ignites a fire in my chest. He has no right to do this every fucking time. He’s selfish. He’s an asshole. He’s the one who broke up with me. 

“What do you want me to do?” I sigh, already scanning Lucas’s apartment for my things. 

“Just come get him, take him back to yours, calm him down,”

“I’m not his babysitter, Christian. That’s your job, remember?” I say bitterly. As shameful as it is, how close they are really used to irk me. If he wasn’t with me, he was with Rome. If I called him, Christian was always in the background reminding him that they had work to do. If I wanted to spend the night at his place, Christian was usually the first person I saw in the morning as Dabin sleeps too late even for me. 

“I can’t take him back to mine. Nicole has-,” 

“Fuck, I know, Christian. Whatever it is going on with your girlfriend, once again you can’t take care of your best friend,”

It’s harsh again, I know. I’m frustrated. 

Ironically, I don’t think Nicole is particularly fond of Dabin either. I was always protective when Christian had to choose her over Dabin. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m just...this has to stop, Christian,”

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” Christian says hopefully. 

“Yeah,” I say, clicking the call off. 

I look behind me again. Lucas unties the adorable apron from around his waist and reaches up to grab two plates from his cabinet. How organized everything is here always freaked me out. I’m not used to neat boys. I’m used to Christian’s protein powders taking up half of the coffee-stained counter that had at least one empty americano plastic cup. I’m also not used to real matching dishes in a man’s house. 

He’s good for me, I tell myself. I’m going to ruin this because of my ex-boyfriend who I run to save whenever he calls. Sighing, I get up and grab my purse while slipping on my heels. 

Lucas looks up at me a frown on his pretty face. 

“Is everything ok?”

I shake my head. My fingers pick at the strap of my bag. Dabin used to laugh at the point in all my straps that shows my nervous habit. This is a new bag, I scold myself forcing my hands to drop along with my eyes. 

“I’m really sorry, Lucas,” I begin. 

What’s your excuse Jasmine? My ex-boyfriend is drunk and crying in a bar because he misses me and for the third time in half as many months, I’m going to take him back to mine because I’m the only person he has to take care of him. 

“My friend is really drunk at a bar right now. I have to go get him,”

He doesn’t even blink at the fact that I’m leaving to go to another man. He just moves to grab his keys off the counter. 

“Jesus, Jasmine, I’ll take you before he gets himself in trouble,”

He’s nice. He’s really totally nice. I’ve always had a thing for genuinely sweet guys. Dabin is sweet. He’s nice too. He’s not Lucas nice and maybe that’s why I’m choosing him. 

“It’s my ex-boyfriend, Lucas,”

He pauses for a second before shrugging. “It’s fine,”

I sigh. “No, it’s not fine because this is going to happen again and every time I’m going to leave and go get him because we’re all each other has really. Eventually, it’ll come between us and I’ll still choose Dabin and I don’t want to put you through that,”

His head tilts adorably. “Are you, are you breaking up with me?”

I nod slowly. I feel bad. I feel angry. With myself mostly. 

“I’ll call you in the morning, Jasmine,” he says finally. 

“Lucas-,”

He interrupts me. “Just go do what you have to do. I’ll call you,”

Lucas is one of the ones who won’t realize what I’m saying until he shows up at my apartment and sees Dabin half naked on my couch. Still, I don’t have time right now to give him anything else. I leave, turning my head when he tries to kiss me. Luckily for Dabin, Lucas lives halfway between the bar and my place. It only takes me twenty minutes to get to him. 

I park my car and make it to the bar just half-past nine. I spot Christian right away, mainly because eyes usually follows his every move. I move toward him as quickly as I can in these heels. He’s hunched over someone, patting them on the back. Dabin. My heart sinks. Despite everything, I ache. 

I cross my arms over my chest psuedo-protectively. 

“Hey,”

Christian turns, his brown eyes brightening when he sees me. He moves out of the way so I can get to Dabin. His cheek is pressed against the bar, one hand tunnels through his hair while another grips an empty shot glass.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” I whisper, shaking my head. They’re both at fault. Christian for letting it go this far and Dabin for yet again being an idiot. 

“Dabin,” I call. 

He doesn’t move. I lean over to the other side to step into his line of vision. His eyes are squeezed shut like he’s trying to hide in plain sight. 

“Can she see me?” He slurs. He’s cute even when he’s shit face drunk. The hand that’s been funneling through his hair moves down to cover his face. I roll my eyes and pull the hand. I actively ignore how his skin pulses against mine when I touch him. 

“Let’s go,” I say. “Can I have two bottles of water?” I call out to the bartender. He nods and hands me two bottles shaking his head when I try to hand him a wad of cash I pull out. 

“I swear I’ll leave you here. Let’s go,” I instruct again. 

His eyes pop open, he lifts his head and turns his whole body, his arms wrap around my waist as he holds me tight against him. His shoulders start to shake, and I drop my head back. 

I can’t cry. Not right now. Not here. I try to talk to him calmer, coasting him to come with me. 

“Dabin, just come with me,”

He looks up at me, his watery eyes blinking. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. Are you mad at me? I’m mad at me. You should just leave me here. I don’t,” He hiccups. “Deserve you. I don’t deserve you,” he repeats the phrase, his tears coming down slowly. 

My eyes burn with every tear that soaks through my dress. I can’t keep doing this to myself. This is the last time, I promise while wiping my eyes quickly. I pull at his arms until he stands. I shoot Christian a glare before leaving with my arms around Dabin’s waist and his arm on my shoulder. 

Luckily get him seated and buckled isn’t hard. He falls asleep as soon as I start driving. He wakes up when we’re just about ten minutes from my place. His head taps against my window, only stopping to take large sips of his water. He’s sober enough to be embarrassed now. The air in the car is filled with tension from everything he doesn’t say and everything I don’t yell. 

I never yell. Not at him. I can’t bring myself to do it. Why can’t I just hold him accountable for his actions?

I grip the steering wheel tight in my hand. 

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” I whisper. My throat feels dry from all the tears I’ve been keeping back. 

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry,”

“I can’t be in your life like this anymore, Dabin. Not when-,” I still love you. I cut myself off quickly. 

“I’m sorry, Jasmine,”

“Are you, though? It seems to me that you’re fine with keeping me around just so I can come clean up after you,”

Dabin stops banging his head on my window and looks straight ahead out the windshield. For however long we’ve been together I never got tuned to his thoughts. I can pick up his mood, but I would never be able to tell you exactly what he’s thinking. I used to think that it was because weren’t able to get close, but that’s not it. That’s just him. He knows how to hide well. 

“Have you ever heard of classical conditioning?”

I roll my eyes because I know where he’s going. He’s not wrong but right now I don’t give a damn about Pavlov and his dog. I pull my lip between my teeth a habit that happens when I’m trying to hold my tongue. Snapping on him does nothing. Telling him that he’s slowly turning into a dependent mess won’t help either. 

“I was on a date, Dabin. I was with my boyfriend in his apartment about to eat pasta because for the first time in a long time I wanted to be with someone else,” I sigh as I come to a stop at a red light. 

“And then you call and it’s like I’m Pavlov’s dog again. I see Christian’s stupid name and dopamine just shoots up to my brain because it’s you. Because for some reason my dumbass is ok with you being a douchebag because at least I get to see you again. At least you want me again,”

Dabin looks at me for the first time since he got in my car. His dark hair is a little longer, his full lips a usually pretty pink are so pale like he’s been gnawing on them. 

“Don’t come,”

“What,” 

He pushes his hands through his hair and drops his hair back on the seat. His eyes close again. 

“Next time just don’t come,”

“Fuck, Dabin. You think I’m going to just let you fucking die of alcohol poisoning. Get your shit together and then I won’t have to stop my life every single fucking time,”

We’re silent for the rest of the ride home. I know he’s still too drunk to have a real conversation. And I’m hungry, tired, and if I’m honest sexual frustrated. I park in my building’s lot and wait for him to get out. He moves slowly, still stumbling a little but at least he can walk on his own. Still, I hook an arm around his waist so he doesn’t fall and knock his head. 

When we get up to my place I let us in. I watch as he flops on my couch, his head thrown back and eyes shut. I roll my eyes in frustration and go to get him some Advil, blankets, and a pillow from my room. I set it all in his lap before going into my room to get ready for bed. 

I leave my door open so I can see him from my bed. This is what you do for people you love. You take care of them. You make sure they’re safe and comfortable. But there’s a limit. There shouldn’t be and obviously, right now there isn’t but I run every time he calls; only to be reminded in the morning when he’s gone before I wake up that nothings changed. It’s a cycle of that we’re stuck in. And as much as I could yell and scream, as bad as he feels in the morning, nothing will ever change. 

Written with @obiwon-shenobi

I just wanna dance girl A little closer I’m not even saying let’s have something Just wanna have fun and walk you home girl I’m a little drunk Again Habits come out It’s like this every day Every time I drink Only to girls with boyfriends- G. Soul Bad Habit

Pairing: Reader x Christian Yu

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, Christian tries to make you forget (one-night stand)

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word Count: 3.9k

I’d sworn off alcohol for the last three months. My boyfriend often told me I get too brazen when I drink too much. Though there is a hint of truth there, his definition of too much and mine differs about two fireball shots. Yet I’m here, sitting at a bar, surrounding myself with more alcohol than I’ve consumed in the last year alone. I have never been good at finding ways to deal with my emotions in a healthy way. I used to seek any warm body that would have be to rid myself of the empty hollowness in my chest. And for a while it worked, for a few hours (sometimes less) I wasn’t alone, I had someone to show appreciation for me even if it was only my body.

When I got with Aaron, I’d become stagnant; finding someone every weekend and letting them go right after. For some reason, I’d decided that this one, this mediocre guy who likes to tell me where to go and how to get there, was for me. Maybe it’s because I never have to think around him. Maybe it’s because a long time ago I’d lost my will to find someone who lives up to my very high standards. Maybe it’s because at some point settling for someone, anyone, became a better option than being alone. We’ve been together for a little more than six months. We fell into a comfortable existence, a formula for utter un-complication. I’d convinced myself that he’s what I needed. But right now, I’m seeing all of the reasons and ways I’ve wasted the last six months of my life. My fingers type a response back to his tyrannical text that he’s sent me telling me all the things I could never be on my own. Maybe a few months ago, I would have believed him. Now, I’m seeing all of this for what it really is; an emotionally and verbally abusive relationship with very few positive aspects. I’ve been drowning with him while I thought I was being pulled in the right direction.

Y/N: I have no problem with ending this right now. Actually, I don’t think there’s any other option. I’m done, you’re done, and there’s no reason to try to fix things

I lock my phone and wave the bartender back over. He nods in acknowledgment before wrapping up the conversation he’s having on the other side of the counter. He already knows what I want. He whips up a fizzy pink strawberry concoction that goes down so smoothly, it’s a miracle I can still feel my toes. It’s my third one tonight, and I don’t see myself slowing down at any point soon. My drink gets set in front of me and I pull out my wallet to pay, but a hand on top of mine stops me instead, handing a credit card over. I follow the hand with the expensive watch that hovers above mine, tattoos cover a slight wrist that leads to a whole sleeve of ink.

I’m supposed to say something I think. I can’t force my lips up form any words. Actually, the only functioning part of my body seems to be my eyes which roams over this stranger’s face, blatantly staring at each inch of him. High, sharp cheekbones and a severely hard jawline frames his baby face. His bubblegum lips pull into a smile and glisten like he’s recently ran his tongue. “Thank you,” I finally force something out. My voice is a little hoarse from crying in the Uber before I came in an hour and a half ago. I probably look a mess. I’ve learned a while ago that my eyes get puffy and my lips become chapped whenever I cry. It’s like the universe decided that I have to be ugly on top of sad for the ultimate ‘fuck you’. I can imagine how I look now after the biggest fight of my relationship. I don’t even know if there’s even a relationship left to be sad over. A part of me knows that tonight isn’t a one-off. Aaron has confrontation in his blood. I guess that’s about the only thing we have in common. If I say I’m done, he has to prove he is too in an even bigger way. The stranger sits beside me on the stool that has been empty up until now. “No problem. You look really sad,”

He explains it with a shrug like he feels bad that I’m such a mess in public right now. He also has an accent that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not strong but it’s so obvious, I’m finding it hard to focus on anything else. The fact that he’s so attractive and I’m quite literally the worst I’ve ever looked in my life, does not go unnoticed. I look away from him awkwardly. My phone lights up with three new messages from my boyfriend.

Aaron: it’s just like you y/n to do this shit. You never think anything out. Just because you’re done then that’s it?

Aaron: There was never anything here anyway. All you do is take and take from ppl, from me. you’re right I am done too

Aaron: you were such a waste. I did everything I could to love you. No one and nothing will ever be enough for your ungrateful ass.

I feel my eyes start to burn. I reach up and wipe my eyes quickly before anything drops. I can’t cry for him. There’s no point. It’s not like I’m losing out on anything. The relationship has always been my most toxic vice. Now I feel even more pathetic than when I walked in. I’m the stereotypical girl at the bar crying over some guy. This isn’t me. Before Aaron, I would have already lured this guy into my bed and gotten him naked seven different ways. At some point, I’d lost all the light parts of myself. I’m boring, I’m mundane, and the least interesting person here.

You look really sad. The guy’s words make me feel worse than the drink that’s supposed to be helping me. I couldn’t even bother to get dressed properly. My hair stuffed under a hat and the least appealing pair of sweats, this is not how I’d elect for pretty people like him to see me.

“He’s not worth it,” he says suddenly. I look down at my opened messages, not even caring that he’s more than likely read them.

My lips spread in a sorry attempt at a smile. “And you’ve gathered this just from three messages saying how horrible I am?”

The stranger shakes his head at me. “No, you’re just probably one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen and you’re crying, and you’re alone. Whoever he is, whatever he’s saying you did, none of it’s worth having you out here by yourself waiting for some guy to scoop you up,”

I laugh and shake my head at him. He’s charming. Of course, he is. With a face like his, it’s obvious he knows how to get people on his side. Even with the corniest lines I’ve ever heard in my life, I want him to keep talking.

“Is that what this is right now? You’re ‘scooping me up’?” I do finger quotes around his words.

He shrugs and smiles widely at me. “What kind of man would I be to come at you right now,”

“I don’t know maybe every other man in New York,”

He laughs. “Good thing I’m not from New York then right, love?”

His hand stretches out toward me, and I immediately take it eager to touch his skin. “I’m Christian, by the way.”

“Y/n,”

The bartender comes over but Christian shakes his head and waves him away. His eyes fall back on me, the side of his mouth pulling up into a small smile.

“You live around here?”

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Small talk? Is that what we’re doing,”

His chin drops down to his chest as he laughs. Even his laugh is pretty. It’s not fair.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing. At least until we start talking about how you ended up with a dude that lets you cry alone at a bar,”

“Guys are all the same,” I say taking another sip of my drink. “If you do something bad enough they’ll find their limit,”

Christian shakes his head. “You’ve just been dating the wrong guys,”

“Are you always so cliché,”

“Absolutely,” He laughs. “Are you always this cynical?”

“Absolutely,” I say.

We stare at each other for a beat passed awkwardly. His eyes narrow on me. I wonder what he sees. If he can see past the mess of puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. Do I look even remotely pretty to him?

“You have a boyfriend,”

It’s not really a question. It sounds almost like he’s trying to talk himself out of something.

“Yes,” I answer anyway but it doesn’t feel like the truth. It doesn’t feel like a lie either.

He holds his hand out. I look at it before bringing my eyes back to his.

“Dance with me,”

I laugh not really meaning to. He laughs too dropping his hand down to the bar with a smack.

“You can’t take me serious can you, darling?”

I cover my smile, unable to stop laughing. He watches me, a brightness in his eyes too soft to be from someone I just met. He looks like he’s glad I’m laughing, that I’m smiling, that he’d successfully distracted me from whatever was taking up my mind before he came.

It doesn’t take long for me to be reminded as my phone vibrates again. This time, Aaron’s flashing face tells me he’s calling. It was only a matter of time. He likes to hear himself talk.

I reach out to grab my phone, flipping it over and over in my hand. If I want to fix this, I should answer. I look at Christian who watches me waiting for what I’ll do.

“I change my mind,” I say, declining the phone call. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

“Can I walk you home?”

I don’t think I actually think about it before he’s following me out of the bar and in the direction of my apartment, a few blocks away. The summer night breeze sobers me up just a little bit. We walk quietly, side by side, trying to figure out what to say.

“What are you doing in New York?” I ask, watching my feet move one in front of the other. I can’t look at him. He makes me feel kind of small like he’s seeing through me.

“Work,”

“What work has you traveling from Australia to New York,”

He laughs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m actually from Korea,”

I stop looking up at him, narrowing my eyes on him. “You’re Korean-Australian?”

“More like Australian-Korean. I live in Seoul,”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a director, a producer, I edit, I manage,”

Holy shit. Everyone visiting the city thinks the fall in one of those categories. Either you’re a musician or managing one. It’s kind of comical but the way he lists his accolades, it’s hard to deny.

“Which one are you here for?”

“All of the above,” he smiles proudly. “We shot a music video yesterday and today. I’ll start cutting it together tomorrow,”

We fall into silence again. My mind races as I try my best to sober up. Something tells me that I’ll get more out of him if I’m in my right mind. I glance over at him while we walking, trying to be inconspicuous while I check him out. His hands tuck in him pockets, his arms flexed and on full display. Tattoos were never my things, and neither were dudebro surfer types either. Christian fits the role. He looks like he works out three times a day and wides the waves at least seven. 

Still, I want to be under him. Under him, above him, beside him, however this plays out, I know that it’s what I want. 

“How long have you been with him?” He asks out of nowhere. The sidewalks are still busy and he stays close to dodge out of the way of others that are passing. 

“A few months,” I tell him. I don’t really want to talk about Aaron; not when all I’m thinking about is how to invite him into my place within the last few minutes of our walk. 

“Are you seeing someone?” I ask, trying to make it seem like an innocent question. 

Christian smiles. “I wouldn’t be here if I was right?”

I nod awkwardly just as we make it to my complex. What do I say? Why am I having so much trouble? I don’t usually have a problem with this part. I also don’t usually talk to attractive people while I look like I just rolled out of bed. “Why do you look like you’re trying to figure out rocket science?” He laughs. “This isn’t weird, isn’t it? I mean I didn’t want to assume-,” 

His mouth comes down hard on mine interrupting my sentence and cutting off all thoughts not related to how good he feels. I pull away first, grabbing his hand and leading him up toward my apartment. As soon as the door is open, he has me inside and pinned against the wood of the door.

His mouth moves over my collarbone while his hands unzip the black hoodie I’d thrown on before I walked out earlier. I reach up, gripping his dark hair in my hands. His breath washes against the valley between my breast as he draws closer. He hasn’t touched my body yet and I already know this is going to be the best I’ve ever had And by the way his arms wrap around my waist, pulling my body tight against his, I might be hard-pressed to find anything that feels like this again.

A finger moves under the strap of my black bra. His eyes catch mine as if he’s asking for permission. All I can manage is a nod before throwing my head back against the door behind me. My bra straps drop from my shoulder and I reach behind me to undo it.

His dark eyes drink in my bare chest like he’s trying to commit it to memory. He leans in and kisses my skin. Both hands reach up to palm each breast. His thumbs move over my nipples.

I reach down, pulling down my sweatpants as he lifts me off my feet. He holds me against his hips and the wall. His hands move freely over my skin, touching my thighs, my hips, my sides.I’m glad I’m sober. Usually, I’d rather be a little intoxicated so I can at least pretend to feel good, but now it’s like my skin is molded to his hands; contouring and curving with each touch.

My phone rings from somewhere on the ground. We ignore it at first, but it’s incessant. I sigh, pulling out of the kiss. Christian pulls away from me, his jeans around his waist as he searches the ground for the device. It would be funny if I wasn’t so annoyed. When he hands the phone to me, my annoyance turns to anger at Aaron’s stupid face flashing on my screen.

I turn off the ringer and toss it back on the floor. Leaning my head behind me, my eyes closed tightly I take a deep breath. I open my eyes at the feel of his hand on my waist.

“Do you want me to leave?” Christian asks.

When I shake my head, he tilts his mouth toward mine, touching my lips too softly. I reach up and snake my arms around his neck, holding him tight against me. He pulls away gently.

“Are you sure? Like you’re not going to have a mental breakdown afterward and scream at me or anything because I’ve had that happen before and honestly it really puts a damper on the night, love.”

“You ramble,” I tell him. “A lot. You ramble and you speak in run-on sentences that go in circles,”

“And you’re pretty critical,” he pouts cutely.

I can’t help it, I tilt my head up to touch my mouth to his. It’s supposed to be a sweet kiss, but with my chest pressed tightly against his, it’s not long before his tongue swipes against my bottom lip before touching my own. He uses his hips to balance my body between his and the wall and reaches behind him to pull out a foil packet. His mouth falls back on mine as a hand moves my panties to the side.

I pull out of the kiss, throwing my head back against the wall as he runs himself against me softly.

“Just tell me to stop at any time,” he says. 

I nod, closing my eyes right as he easing into me. I release a breath as he starts to move. His fingers stay wrapped around my thighs as he moves against me. He’s so close but still, I want him closer. I pull his mouth back to mine, running my tongue over his bottom lip. 

My legs wrap tightly around his skin hips, holding him in place when the slide of him begins to get to be too much. I’ve never been one to really think about how good sex was. It’s just is what it is most of the time. As long as it feels good, it’s acceptable. I’ve been letting these guys off too easy. 

Christian feels...too good. He moves slowly, his hips rolling softly against mine. Whenever he goes deep, he stops moving for a few seconds like he’s letting me feel all of him. 

I want more. More touching, more kissing, more of his body slamming into mine, more of the accented dirty words he keeps saying in my ear. This was supposed to rough, frustrated, so far all I’m getting is a soft boy touching me like he’s showing me all the ways I should be treated. I don’t think anyone has ever touched me like this. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed. He holds my body up when I come around him. And he follows me soon after. His forehead rests against my shoulder as we both come down. My skin is buzzing. It feels like I’m two seconds from shooting off again. I feel unstable, shaky like I need to sit down. 

He finally lifts his head, kissing me softly before pulling away. 

“I have two more days in the city,” he tells me while zipping his jeans.

“That kind of defeats the purpose of a one night stand don’t you think?” I say pulling my sweats back in place.

My body feels languid like liquid. I might fall over if I don’t sit down. He reaches out to grab my wrist like he’s afraid I’ll fall over. 

“Quite right. But I would love to see your smile again.” His shit-eating grin and one-liners were either making me nauseous or lightheaded or both.

“I think it’s best to leave things as they are.” I finally find my small couch, blinking away the haze to fully look at the missed calls and texts.

“Persistent one, isn’t he?” He’s next to me in an instant, overstaying my usual one-night fun time frame. “I can’t leave you now, now can I? What if he walks in here with his chest puffed out?”

That was oddly… comforting. It feels good, even if this man was a complete stranger.

“If you’d like, we can go do something.” He’s staring at the Rolex on his wrist and it takes power not to ask what he really does. “Only half past midnight. And we are in the city that never sleeps”

Why was this complete and utter stranger being so kind to me? Something in my mind told me to tell him to get out and move far away, what even was I thinking to let his ass in here?Do hangovers happen this quick? Or is this just a head rush? Still, I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight when it feels like I’m two seconds from breaking down. A ping on my phone makes up my mind. Aaron: You’re probably still drinking your useless life away huh? Smh, this is all you’re good for Y/n. That and you’re a grea-

I immediately stand, “let me go change.” ~~ “Mmmm try again.”

“You’re cheating.”

“You’re just terrible at games, love.”

“Call me ‘love’ one more time.”

The best part of “the city that never sleeps” is a small 24-hour coffee shop with a lounge upstairs with all sorts of board games and a pinball machine. I figured that was well lit and crowded enough, not that it mattered as he has already been inside not just my home but me as well. That and if Aaron showed up, there would surely be too large of a crowd for him to get too bold.

Christian and I sipped coffee playing battleship for the third time after I kicked his proper ass in connect four several times. Battleship was less about the tactic for me and mostly luck, which is probably why I was losing. We made more small talk here and there, he even took my phone from me because, and I quote, ‘douchebags don’t get to make you sad’. I could feel my funk lifting with every time Christian laughed, his warm brown eyes looked innocent enough, but that’s how I settled for Aaron.

“So,” I start slowly, feeling shy once more in his presence, “have I seen any of your work before?”

“F19. And not unless you listen to Korean Hip Hop.” His eyes study his board quizzically, maybe I could sink a ship with how nervous he looks since my last move.

“Miss, A13. What like Jay Park and all of that?”

“Hit. And so you know of Jay? Or you listen to him?”

“A14. And he’s okay, a bit short if you ask me.”

Christian stops the world to laugh. He giggles himself straight into tears, which to be honest, confuses me. I’m not sure how my true opinions were funny.

“I’ll tell him you said that.” His lopsided grin had a fire in me stirring again. “And miss,”

Christian walks me back home around 4 am. I wanted to touch him, kiss him, caress him, but he simply laid a kiss on my cheek and told me he’ll stop by again tomorrow, to “check” on me. He waits for me to make sure Aaron didn’t break in before bidding me a good night. 

As I got ready to drift to sleep another ping to my phone goes off.

Unknown: I hope you don’t mind but I text myself from your phone. I also blocked your ex (shrug emoji) douchebags don’t deserve tears. Also… this is what I do.