* cont. / @plays124
his eyes stayed shut with an ease that made it seem, to anyone looking, like he was buried in a sleep so deep it’d take hours to pull him out. yet that theory vanished fast, courtesy of nam-gyu’s bare hand shaking him back into consciousness. lids cracked open just enough for the back of a porcelain-pale hand to brush over them, and then came the sinking twist in his gut. myung-gi almost wished it had been the edge of a blade from one of the bastards on the hunt for his head. instead it was worse. fucking worse. fucking nam-gyu. the memories of previous night were scattered, like a film he’d seen but couldn’t recount without forcing himself to piece it together. the pressure. the club. jun-hee’s endless calls buzzing his phone until he nearly snapped it in half. the morbid irony of running into mothers with babies at every corner he turned. mg coin needed somewhere else, somewhere new, still untouched by his ghosts. and where better than the one place he swore he’d never set foot? club pentagron. nam-gyu being there was inevitable, it was the bastard’s work place, but at least thanos was far out of the city. no risk of bumping into the rapper, and nam-gyu was more bark than bite when kept off his leash. the last place he expected to end up was in his bed; memories of his moans still fresh in his mind to make him both curse himself and understand exactly why he’d failed so easily.
“ fuck... ” it slipped out pathetic as mg coin pushed himself upright, sweat still clinging to his skin in thin, sticky trails he couldn’t hide. his fingers fumbled blindly until they found the blanket, pulling it over his lower half in a weak attempt at modesty. “ this... this didn’t fucking happen. you, you were drunk, i was fucking drunk, nothing happened! you... you know that, right? don’t you? ” he repeated, firmer, desperate for the other to confirm the lie he was trying to write into reality. a flimsy note-to-self that none of this was real; no matter what their common sense said.
