ion
@epchaeyeon
he moves through the room like a moon that hangs low -- from chair to chair, edge to edge, always near somewhere to hold, to sit. the moments that push him into the open floor where people linger and the room tends to widen force him to hold on to arms, to shoulders. his eyes rise to look into unfamiliar eyes; they hook for a short moment before he's on to the next person and the next set of limbs that keep him standing upright. jongin is afraid, mostly, of falling, and the embarrassment that comes with it.
and he's embarrassed, too, that it only takes six drinks for his knees to tremble and his posture to tilt; only a few drinks and his control wanes into such a small sliver that he smiles and he laughs and dances until his thighs are tired, until he's searching for chaeyeon with the vague promise of leaving. the images in his head hold a looped showing, play at every turn, at every bump against another obstacle: chaeyeon, sturdy and tall, her plain expression; the look of his shoes, the way his feet twisted after every drink, bit by bit; the longing for his bed, the cool hold of his pillow.
jongin means to call her name -- it'd be easier than scanning each face with furrowed brows and the sick, light feeling in his stomach -- but he has to remain low and quiet. his final thought is to make himself more visible, so his feet pause, his eyes close, a smile lingers; jongin raises his arms high, stretches his fingers, and says chaeyeon's name under his breath -- an improvised summoning.
