ad starter; @jonghyuna
In his current state, when the entire world was swimming and Yongguk was merely letting the unsteady waves take him with their pace, he wasn’t aware of many things -- his surroundings, his identity, his goals in life -- but there was one fact he was very, painfully sure of: that he was so, so fucked.
He didn’t plan for his day to tumble down like that, for his evening to become the climax of all the problems, and then for his night to reap what his consciousness sowed. He never expected it to become this, to yield underneath the weight when it’d been just a few months since he promised himself (and many other people) to not let it get to that point again. Through his hazed mind, he wasn’t even sure how bad he was: for all he knew at that moment, it could’ve been a grande breakdown or simply a worse day, one of those that happened to all the people in the world and passed with the next sunrise and fading headache of a hungover organism.
All that was clear was that he stood outside his own apartment, locked out and utterly miserable, feeling like a five-year-old who had done something that he should not have. He shouldn’t be drinking, he shouldn’t be in this state, he shouldn’t give anyone around him any more reasons to worry than he’d already had.
Even as he takes out the phone, the still conscious part of his mind knows there isn’t much he can do. When he dials a number, even before the call is picked up, it’s already an out-of-character occurence, something he would never do in any other situation.
“I’m drunk out of my mind.” The words slip out right away and only then Yongguk realizes just how drunk he is, when the syllables are escaping his tongue before he can form them properly, resulting in a slurred (but still perfectly understandable, he supposes) mess. “I locked myself out of my place... Why didn’t I take keys? I can’t remember the key code either. I think it had something to do with Tigger’s birthdate. It’s like... the same--but different.” It made sense, perfect sense, to him at least; he was a drunk yet conscious person, who still followed a logical path of thinking--except it was a crooked logic, one that responded to a certain kind of cause-and-effect relationship.
They weren’t even close, not really--not in Yongguk’s perception. But his appoach to social relations was generally peculiar, so for all he knew, they might have been considered close without him even really realizing it. They hung around the building of Mnet’s recording studio once, completely recklessly sneaking out in a break between one recording performance session and another, wthout telling anyone. They were just sitting there, carelessly leaning out over the barriers, watching the world and its people from the roof and talking about the most prosaic things in convoluted metaphors, as if someone could’ve been eavesdropping and they had to speak in a code.
Either way, close or not, it didn’t matter, because the call was already in motion and there was no turning back from it now. “I need a place to crash and I can’t have anyone know that I’m pissed. I think I just said you’re not one of ‘anyone’... I hope it makes you feel special, not offended. I can’t have you feel offended now.”
Unless they were written, metaphoric and accompanied by music, Yongguk was truly terrible with words.
“Last time I drank, I apparently voiced suicidal thoughts. Something about not seeing a reason to go on... I can imagine myself saying that. So I got a ban on alcohol that everyone close to me knows about.” Admitting to it was surprisingly easy, much easier than it would’ve been in a sober state. He should drink more. “I don’t want to worry anyone or feel their wrath, so... A bed would be nice. A couch. A piece of floor space... Anything.”
