there aren’t many people who can break protocol for the girl who keeps her heart in a gilded cage, a viewing party for all those who may entertain the idea of breaking down her walls, but most of them can never scratch the surface anyways. all save for a certain kim jongin, who she had never intended to let in in the first place, but emotions were unpredictable, harboring little creatures who jumped at the first opportunity they found to latch on to a single person, and hyerin simply deems herself unlucky.
she supposes it could be worse, at least he wasn’t bad looking; no, kim jongin was easy on the eyes to say the least, a heavily inebriated song hyerin muses. perched at the bar table of lumin8 with her chin resting on her palms, she blatantly stares at the boy sitting across from her, who gives her a quirk of his brow with that same look of bemusement he seems to save for their endeavors.
in all honesty, she shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but fate had a funny way of saying ‘fuck you, hyerin!’ in the form of jongin suggesting celebratory drinks, and what was she supposed to do? say no? and so she’s here, having been physically incapable of forming a protest when he’d smiled at her initially, and song hyerin is a goner.
the first shot had burned, as does the few that come after it, but she’d gladly let jongin set her on fire, so what was she complaining about anyways? she does hope that he knows when enough is enough, however, when her words start slurring and her sentences incomprehensible. and she probably knows she sounds so inherently stupid at this point, but hopefully she wouldn’t even bother to remember it come morning; a few more shots should do the trick. emboldened by liquid courage coursing in her system, she opens her mouth to shred what last piece of dignity she has left, tilting her head as she grins, childlike in essence.
“oppa, you’re so pretty.”
an inflation of ego, also known as narcissism, has somehow become a core player in his psyche. his profile would elaborate in details how he relishes in being flattered; it does distract him from the gnawing ennui. so, hyerin’s presence serves naught but as a means to validate his vain self, etching more confidence even when he doesn’t need such an addition per se. it’s not like people haven’t been climbing that ladder trying to reach the summit, where he’s seated calmly. he’s not waiting for anyone at this point, but hyerin seems to fall for the trap rather easily, and now she’s trying to clamber through the steps.
of course, it’s a mere distraction, welcomed. he’s now on the stool next to hers as he pours more of the drink into her glass, a smirk loaded with a thousand intents tugging at the corners of his lips. there’s nothing more entertaining than witnessing as these people push themselves to the point of inebriation, before choosing one of the following options: a. ) spilling their hearts on the bartop, everything laid bare across him to see, or b. ) lulling their minds to slumber, which is the worse out of the two, for it reaps him nothing but a liability. hyerin seems like the former, which is best.
she’s started blurring lines at this point, clawing her way towards that apex. her words are slurred, drawled. he watches her with amusement before taking another shot himself. bless the fate for bestowing him with a high level of alcohol tolerance, really. he places hyerin as his main focus, now, the look of adoration towards him rims her countenance. and it’s a good sight to peruse, such a compliment coming from a girl that seems to have her chest crisscrossed with tessellated self-preservation. seems that it has crumbled before him. it’s made obvious when she actually compliments him in the midst of her succumbing to the substance’s influence. he smiles at that. “why, thank you,” he speaks with an overload of satisfaction. “should i be a responsible human being and tell you to stop drinking now?” but he pours one more shot into his own glass, tantalizing. ( @phantomxmi )
