#gswmiri

[gswhan]

going overboard // @gswmiri

September 15th, 7:08PM, The Pink Room

The colored lights lining the floors of The Pink Room do not have the same vibrancy they used to. Its neon pink, nearly red, coating has lost its luster over time; some broken from drunkards stumbling, others on their last leg of life. One could stare at the neon coils til spots danced in their vision — the perfect complement to any night of far too many shots.

From where Hangyeol sits, he can barely make out any of them. The colors of the island lost their sharpness in the past few days. ( To his weary eyes, at least. ) Worn leather upholstery squeaks beneath his movements, pulled tight over the now flat cushion of the bar stool. He gazes into the glass of whiskey. The melting ice perfectly picks up the faint rosy glow, twisted into a fierce crimson against the cool browns of the alcohol. It reminds him of what happened not even a week ago. He gulps and brings the glass to his lips.

Many a patron now drink for the same reason he does today. Oddly packed for a Thursday, he notes, scanning the room. All he sees are blank faces, some jolly with full cheeks, spirits lifted temporarily — others laced with uncertainty and lingering fear.

Hangyeol allows a sigh to slip past his lips, muffled by the glass again. He pauses. Something cold drips on his hand. A splat of chilled ice in a mixed drink lands on his shoe. His eyes travel upward, then to his side. Somehow, he has been able to block out the especially inebriated young woman on the adjacent stool in an animated conver with the barkeep. Her rambling words eventually blending in with the background noise of whatever they showed on the televisions. He is uncertain how long she has been going, or how many drinks she's managed to gulp down within the hour of her arriving.

"Hey." The clamoring from other patrons drowns out his bid to get her attention. He clears his throat and tries louder. "Hey!" Another effort lost. In a desperate attempt he reaches along the bar, fingers clasping onto the new martini set down in front of her, keeping it firm to the polished wood. "Would you mind chilling out?"

[yiminggsw]

good samaritan.

for miri ( @gswmiri )

Children and animals didn’t typically like him, so why was this one insistently clinging onto his leg and calling him dad?

“Hello, fat one.” He greeted the small human. The child was short, but rather pudgy. Her weight made her quite difficult to shake off. “I am certainly not your father, but if you require assistance in finding your actual one, I...do happen to have some free time.” For some reason this perfectly reasonable sentence provoked the child, and she burst into tears.

Jesus help me.

He wasn’t actually religious, but at this point Yiming just might need divine intervention.

Just as he contemplated knocking the child out to stop her from screaming in his ear, she quieted down. Through sniffles and slurred speeches, he managed to gather several pieces of information: The child’s father had passed away recently and she had not accepted this fact well. She ran away from her daycare today hoping to find him and decided to grab onto Yiming because he was wearing a similar outfit as the dad on the day he headed out and never to return.

“I will return you to the daycare - no buts.” His stern voice had been enough to drop grown men to their knees back when he was with the organization, and now, it only made the kid grumble unhappily. She did get on his back when he offered to carry her, though, and provide enough information about the daycare for him to get to the correct one.

A woman was already at the gate, rather frazzled looking. Was she a teacher, looking for this one?

“Hi.” Yiming called out, picking up his pace. “Are you looking for Soyeon here?” He gestured at the child on his back, who had somehow managed to fall asleep during her ride here.