Futility | Yoongi & Krystal
@krystalxmp
Yoongi did not frequent the clubs very often. In fact, he had basically avoided them since he left his job as a bartender. They were too loud, too bright, too full of live and people who wanted to talk to you for any number of stupid reasons. He would, in almost any case, rather stay home and drink tea while watching true crime documentaries with his dog than have to brave the noise and crowds of a bar and pay five dollars for a bottle of water.
Unfortunately, he found himself at a club, anyway. A friend had asked him to meet there, and the bastard hadn’t even bothered to show up. Yoongi would definitely make him pay for that. The music was blaring, the bartender kept trying to talk to him, and his water had been so expensive, he was almost hesitant to drink it. It was awful. He understood why people got drunk at clubs. He could have ordered an actual drink, he supposed, but he was too much of a lightweight and he did not want to risk losing his wits.
He was just thinking about trying to push his way across the dance floor to leave when someone sat on the barstool next to him, maybe a little too close for comfort. He glanced over too see if it was his wayward friend, but it was some strange woman. He sighed and faced forward again, curling in his shoulders and sipping his water. He felt like she was looking at him, but that made no sense, so he just ignored it. He would wait five more minutes, he decided. If his friend did not show up, he would go home.
