wary of the night, rain made his way across the dock as quickly as he could without tripping over his own feet, managing to slip onboard just before the ferryman called time. ( time -- it was weird here. rain swore that the dark became exponentially dark-er every half hour. was that normal? )

the boat bobbed beneath his feet, a nervous reminder that he needed to find a seat quickly. the closest one was a bench with what seemed to be the only other passenger on the ferry, but it was a seat that rain would have taken anyway because he was not going to sit alone in the dark. he practically ran. “hi! sorry! do you mind if i sit here?” he asked, a question immediately rendered useless when he took a seat next to the other passenger anyway. the ferry jolted as they undocked, and rain pulled his bag tightly to his chest with a nervous laugh, like it could possibly be pitched off the boat. “it got dark so fast, don’t you think? i swear i just saw the sun an hour ago.”

yeah so according to the gen z handbook, getting wasted at 1:00 am on a friday or saturday night is so — basic. which is why he’s here, on a thursday, watching in amusement as the neon lights above draw patterns onto all of club lol’s surfaces. his phone blearily tells him it’s barely 10:00 pm. the night is still young ! and yet, the warm haziness of one too many drinks is already starting to get the best of him. it’s funny, really, the way his alcohol tolerance seems to be defaulting back to his more, dare he say, juvenile days, but maybe that’s something he’ll deal with in the morning. 

( he downs another shot. ) 

looking around, he has half the mind to wonder what exactly it is he’s doing here, alone, since none of his friends were up for making memories neither of them would remember. but raon stops himself in his mental tracks. he’s not here to think — he’s here for quite the opposite. so, in true ha raon fashion, he pushes these thoughts into the very back of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the blaring rhythm of the bass as he stands up haphazardly from his seat at the bar. 

“oops,” he slurs, eyes half closed as he grins at the silliness of it all. of course, just when he was about to get onto the dance floor to have some fun, his body decides now that it’s going to give into the bitter alcohol he’s been poisoning it with. typical. “sorry, my bad,” he says as he rubs at the sore spot on his shoulder that had just collided with — his eyes try to focus on the victim of his drunken clumsiness, but to no avail. god, why isn’t anything working right now ?