✧*. head’s hung low, gaze CAST toward the floor -- minjae’s unsure of why he’s even here. parties aren’t necessarily his idea of entertainment, and with an untouched drink still in hand, he could care l e s s about those milling around him. well, save for one, the person being his reason for even leaving the comfort of his own apartment in the first place. amber eyes fall onto the familiar frame of taehyun, and he smiles in their direction, hoping it’s noticed -- it isn’t, and from what he can see, they’re deep in conversation with another. whoever they are, they’re reaching F O R W A R D, brushing their thumb over taehyun’s cheek ; the interaction sends a pang of jealousy through minaje. the sensation's pervasive, resonating within the pit of his stomach and spreading outward, quickly reaching his heart. it hurts, brings forth confusion as he’s never felt like this before. he lifts his drink to his lips, ready to drown the demon that’s taunting his thoughts, but as he returns his stare to the space where taehyun and the other were, having only glanced away for a moment, he’s met with emptiness. confusion and panic manifest themselves within his very bones, and it’s only when he catches a glimpse of brown hair that he r e c o g n i z e s taehyun once more, though trailing behind the stranger, his hand held in theirs. minjae thinks he sees their fingers entwined -- it makes him sick. he tries to not let what’s happening ruin his night ( because after all, he and taehyun haven’t discussed what they are, nor where they stand, so technically ... he shouldn’t be this UPSET ), but it does ruin his night, and he is upset. minjae doesn’t think then, rather, lets his feet carry him up the winding spiral staircase. there’s a few rooms on the top floor, though one has its door closed, and while it isn’t an easy notion to swallow, minjae assumes he’s found the right entrance. there’s no knocking, no warning before he opens the door -- he’s i m m e d i a t e l y met with the two people he was simultaneously expecting and DREADING. “ what the hell do you think you’re doing, kid ? ” the question’s directed to the stranger. his tone’s filled with malice, words cutting through the air with the sheer amount of force behind them.