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Please, kill me.
At parties, I almost always see the drop in IQ. Tiny molecular atoms of dumbness hovering and watching at every turn of a head, and like metal to magnet they cling to their victim. Hence why I avoid them. But tonight, Eunji took charge, bragging about how there would be no rest until my pretty ass—her words—sleeps on someone else's bed. So here I am; at this rate, might as well succumb to finding discomforting solace in a cardboard box beneath some rundown bridge.
We're all here yet I'm alone, and watching every scene unfold in nooks and crannies of the large room and I'm baffled by it. And I realise that no matter how big of a college party venue, it could never house everyone. Then I stray off to find out that the earth is a fat giant ball containing more humans than itself can carry, and about one third of them, give or take, make up the university system. It's stupidly mind-blowing.
I think Hongjoong is doing a really sweet thing for his best friend. Going out of his way just to throw a Party Of The Century(because every new party becomes the Party Of The Century) that shows how much he's thankful for having Seonghwa as a friend. And no strings attached because he knows to simply be grateful for Seonghwa's existence, and not whether he aced every project, or could cook killer meals (like Seonghwa actually can), or could snag a new girl every week.
Hongjoong understood friendship, and Seonghwa should be damn thankful for that. They got each other, they're good to go.
And me, I have got Eunji flirting, Ryujin rolling her eyes, and Jungha fawning in different parts of a million-dollar mansion as long as Mingi is there. My brain currently tells me it isn't the best idea to go looking for any of them, but instead to, "Man up, go have fun. If you do talk to someone, you're off the hook for at least a week."
Now that is something I like to hear.
I sink into the belly of the beast, colliding with at least one body with each step. The entire foyer, which I estimate to be three times larger than I and Jungha's apartment, is a dancefloor and as unwilling as I am to admit it, watching everyone have fun makes me want to have fun. Then I recall this isn't my idea of fun. I don't presume I had to think of guaging how hungover I was going to be when I woke up or how much of my insides can be regurgitated at a go. Like I see San doing now.
The boy is practically having a wrestling match with his own hand at the bar. The shot glass of clear liquid perched few centimeters away entices him, wanting to reel him into a sea of intoxication only it could offer, and he's failing miserably.
The scene is amusing enough to push me in his direction and I become hyper-thankful that I have at least spotted someone I know, even if just above the acquaintance bar, nearing the friends' zone or something. Or better yet, amongst the eight boys that make up a close knit group of popular and affluent and handsome, Choi San is the second person I could confidently say I'm closest too. Wooyoung is the first.
