namjoon offers a grin, eyes wide in surprise at the appearance of more alcohol to replace that which the younger had consumed, stolen; “that’s a nice trick,” he joked, dimples deepening. “it’d be nice if i had some friends nice enough to throw shit at me when i asked for it,” because hell, he was no stranger to the fact that his bandmates were just that, as much as he’d tried to change it— people he made music with. it fucking sucked, too, but he got over it. he had guk to deal with it, and it wasn’t like he was necessarily lacking for companionship, especially considering the odds that he could run into someone he knew even here, at the farthest reaches of his social circle.
"when am i ever someplace of my own accord?" and it’s true, because really, namjoon tries to avoid chaos, preferring the safety and logic of home, of controlled insobriety, of jeongguk’s arms after a long day.
this is not his home environment, and it is this that sets him apart from changmin, even if he hasn’t realized or acknowledged it.
he casts a long, wide look at the crowd around them— pulsing with the music, skin and rubber alike scraping across the dirt floors, and he faintly recalls an incident earlier involving one of the lights falling. no one had gotten hurt, or anything, but still— there’s an uncertainty in the air, and while some might brush it away, or even thrive on it— he doesn’t. if he was sober, and not tied to his hyungs lost in the swath of bodies, he would have left a long time ago.
maybe changmin would be a saving grace to this night.
"i don’t normally go to these kinds of things," he admits, but it’s not like he didn’t expect that to be obvious. it’s been a long time since he legitimately enjoyed these things— that was back in seoul, before he was eighteen, before real life bared it’s ugly fangs and ripped that joy away from him.
he wonders, faintly, if that would ever come back to him.
it’s been four years, probably not.
he itches for another drink— but he wouldn’t dare take changmin’s bottle again, instead eyeing the lingering remains in the bottle still in his hand, eyebrows furrowed. “…i thought there was more,” he frowns, perplexed. “and i don’t want to go back to the bar.”
"takes nearly being burnt to a crisp together, unfortunately." perhaps an exaggeration, or maybe a half-hearted joke, changmin uttered the words and cast an amused look back to the men carousing amongst themselves over a cooler full of soju bottles. ridiculous. though the clearest sense of camaraderie could be witnessed in their most unguarded states; where each person smiled and clapped the next person's shoulder with each laugh that slipped into the heady air, "one day for you."
he wouldn't know the answer that. truth be told, there was little that he knew of the other male aside from his name, his profession and a vague idea of how they were connected with the people that they knew. too brightly, recollections of firey defenses and fingers curled into the collar of his shirt came to mind and changmin found himself stifling amusement; what difference a change in environment and company made in certain men, "why would you let yourself be dragged here? this is hardly the place to end up when you don't want to be here."
a small chain tied to the ankle of an unfortunate soul in a crowd of people; one that wanted nothing more than to spend his night in all the ways that would leave him going home bloody and bruised. shim changmin was spoiling for a fight, but the better part of him--one that sounded mysteriously like that of his girlfriend--left him offering the male a smile and clapping his shoulder. he'd give a try. maybe he'd enjoy it.
"maybe you just need some more alcohol in your system!" the man chirped, displaying a row of white teeth and a natural curling of his eyes as he called for another to replace the empty bottle. as soon as he caught it, he pushed it toward the other, "here you are."
snowghoul
dededos
dailybridgerton
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
