hailey beebs — almost monday 🌾 i wrote your name on the wall miss you, i can feel the withdrawal for @taekangs
the evening just felt too loud. blisteringly obnoxious. overindulging. empty.
at first, haseok couldn’t place the emptiness. he’d seen every face he would expect to find attending an event like this, the same couple hundred of people he’d grown so accustom to putting names to faces of plastic surgery and the likes of luxury; haseok could name every person in the room and still not feel a thing. his montage of alcohol even combined with his self-excused moments of vomiting in the bathroom from borderline alcohol poisoning still couldn’t mask the undiagnosable tension he felt in his chest. it’s root? seemingly nothing, haseok figures, even when taehyun isn’t answering his texts nor even opening them.
haseok feels the taste of copper in his mouth each time another blue bubble has to appear on his end. it’s something he doesn’t like to do with anybody, especially taehyun, who was the last person he ever resorted to triple texting under any circumstances — but tonight felt different. maybe it was the alcohol thinking for him, inebriating his judgment to think that sending the male a handful of texts would get him to response faster. even by the end of the catered five-course meal, his plate of dessert had been left untouched and his napkin abandoned half crinkled on his seat.
fuck it, he thinks, deciding for himself that he’d be leaving the event in the most haseok of fashion; no words spoken to anybody, not even his parents, not even a white lie to tell them he’d be coming back. no, it was quite literally haseok turning from the unlimited bar and leaving without his whiskey on the rocks to take the elevator down to meet his limousine chauffeur. he’s greeted with a ribbon of bows from the building staff to bid him farewell as he shoved past the parking garage doors.
he stops dead in his tracks at the figure he’d just briefly caught the eye of, leaning aloofly against a guard rail facing him. “you fuck,” haseok’s eyes are wide as he points a weak, accusing finger at taehyun’s figure. go figures: smoking a cigarette in the parking garage. taehyun was simple, but haseok always loved to make him complex in his own inner workings.
he throws his hand down to his side, mentally stomping his foot like a whiny little boy who’d been rejected on the playground. “you asshole. i was texting you, calling you — who leaves their phone next to the salad table?” it’s then that haseok finally puts down his finger, already tired of nagging taehyun when he’s not even sober and was drained from the mental energy of even finding the man.
haseok finds his spot next to taehyun on the guard rail, just enough space for him to sit beside him but intimate enough for their shoulders to graze one another. even wearing a winter coat, taehyun smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. “how long have you been down here?”
