Indulging in alcoholic beverages with straight lined intention to acquire moments blissful state of narcosis was a goal far from his usual late night escapades, these days, but sounded appealing enough at given breath, knuckles white gripping at the sides of the white sink in front of him. There’s a startling difference to nausea building up from one too many drinks, and the churning disgust pulling at insides insistently and he can’t differentiate between the two right now, eyes closing as he exhales through teeth slowly.
He entertains the thought of leaving for all of assumed four seconds, knowing the moment his nose is through the door and hit with chilly air of the lost small hours nothing but clarity awaits in empty bed, night of restlessness he feels less inclined to greet than the sure regret of tomorrow morning with the second option. Another sort of headache. But doable.
If it takes him another minute to smooth out the beginning of a frown and replace it with a neutral look accompanied by a perfunctory smile lingering on lips as if it had never left, well no one’s there to see. Or the languid massaging of left hand, somewhat of a nervous habit but calming nonetheless as fingers rub palm even as he heads back out of the stifle bathroom, instantly stalking towards the bar where volume was lowered enough for one to engage in conversation without needing to shout. The kind of distraction he needed.
“Hey!” Voice rising above the chatter and volume of music, just barely, he motioned for the bartender in attendance to waltz over to the end of the counter where he had situated himself at, attention only half on him as he cast a distracted look towards the dancefloor seeming so far away. “Hey,” He repeats once presence is felt closer, turning to regard the man with a bright grin and an order for something that would envelop him in a snug cocoon of ignorance and pleasant buzz on the tip of tongue, only for all of it to fall to his feet and slither away, stupefied blank expressed on featured upon appearance of someone he’s, sort of, maybe, not quite tried to avoid for months on end, curt nods an only exchange in passing.
Distantly, he wondered what were the odds of him encountering yet another agent in this setting, and what it spoke of his own state if he was visiting drunken establishments often enough to grant this possibility. “Hey?” It sounded uncertain in every level of existence and had he been sober Jimin would have probably made up an excuse to leave already, but he had made up his mind, to distort it as far from reality as he could manage, so he stayed, wary. It would not be such a big deal, right? The club was closing soon enough anyway, he could manage.
