Hakyeon didn’t really have a club he frequented more than two times in a row. Maybe because he didn’t always like seeing the same people every night in which he decided to go out (new places meant new faces), maybe because he feared he’d done something embarrassing after having one or two shot glasses too many (he really didn’t hold alcohol well). Maybe it also was because the DJs playlists started to bore him and he needed the diversity; even though he wasn’t really dancing on the dance floor ever, or rarely. He rather sat and watched, sometimes talked to a few people and made new friends, sometimes didn’t.
It seemed a bit idiotic to himself once he had realized what he was doing, even more idiotic now that he had noticed that this was the fifth time this month in which he ran back into the same club just because of one very shallow reason. The music bothered him, he assumed the people were always the same but he wasn’t watching the dance floor. Paying the price of an empty wallet and a killing headache in the morning really didn’t seem to be worth it for sitting on the bar stool all night just to exchange a few words with the busy bartender whenever he ordered a new drink - a smile on his lips every time, he knew was pretty when sober, but probably extremely awkward when drunk.
This was the fifth night in the same club and he still hadn’t figured out how to tell the bartender that he thought he was extremely attractive without sounding unoriginal or dumb like the hundreds or even thousands of other people who had told him the same thing before. Because it was unoriginal and dumb. The man mixing drinks with such skill that it was hypnotizing probably knew that fact already, he was obviously working out, and Hakyeon pulled a face. Hakyeon really wasn’t good at this, and Hakyeon didn’t think he was being cute with it either. So his chances of getting the man’s attention were slim, very slim, and he knew that he should just go home and let it be.
But still, he stayed, nipping on a long drink this time because it had given him more time to talk to the other while he was mixing the drink - and yet, he hadn’t said anything more but a quiet "thank you" when it was handed over to him. He bit down on the straw. "Idiot…" his words were a mutter only and not loud enough to be heard over the bass. He didn’t need to be original, he just desperately wanted to stand out. His drink wasn’t even empty yet when he lifted his hand slightly to get the bartender’s attention again. But instead of saying what he was going to say, he ordered another shot glass, and with that decided that he would probably just leave it there and go.
