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"Really buddy. I'm sorry. You have to leave." Jimin juts his hip out in exhaustion, rubbing tired hands at his eyes. Today is Saturday and he's on closing duty--the last time he checked the clock it read minutes after 4:30 AM. The man pounds his fist on the infamous "stragglers' table" in the corner of Radon, his hair a bluey hue underneath the brite lights neon sign that hangs above him. 

"No...mm...don't wawaaannnaaaa!" Jimin steps back as the man flails his arms around in drunken desperation, as if he could swat the order away. "I wannnaaaa ssttaaayyyy plleeeaazzee! She won't lemme home..."

Jimin groans and crosses his arms. Take your goddamn sob story to the therapist, not out to the bar! I'm so fucking tired I could fall asleep standing here. "Who won't let you home? You do have a home to go back to, right? I can call a taxi or an Uber for you-"

"NOOOOO!!!" The man wails in agony as if he'd been shot. His cheeks pouch as he leans farther back into the booth, farther away from Jimin. He buries his face into thick hands and starts whining. Jimin rolls his eyes as the man's blubbering starts back up again, this time with the sparkly presence of fresh tears on an unshaven face. "I c-can't!!! She won't ha-have meee anymore...she doesn't love me anymore!! Can't you see! I'm-" He burps loudly. More tears flop from under his droopy lids. "HOPELESSS!"

Yes. Yes you are. Jimin sighs. 

"You aren't hopeless. You're just drunk and tired. And you need to leave. Please, let me help you get a ride home or I'll have to call the police to escort you out. I don't think you want that."

"UUUGGHH." The man hiccups and slams his forehead ruinously into the booth table. Jimin winces at the thump, deciding to sit down across from the man for a minute. Talk some sense into him. Get the man back onto his goddamn feet so Jimin can get into his goddamn bed.

"Let's start with the basics. Would you like me to hail a taxi for you, or call an Uber? Otherwise, if you have a friend that might be willing to pick you up-"

"SHE DOESN'T LOVE ME ANYMORE!" A cry erupts out of the man's chest, so heartbroken that Jimin starts to wonder what drama-worthy breakup this man must've experienced. Jimin picks at his chipping purple nail polish while the man continues his crying. "A-and...she won't piccck me up! Why won't she...I'M HOPELESS! She's too damn good for me...I knew I shouldn't have gone af...ter her..."

Jimin crosses his thumbs over each other. Next time him and Hobi go shopping, he needs to purchase longer lasting nail polish. Working with alcoholic beverages that spill on his hands every once in a while is detrimental to the paint...whenever he paints them they last for a week tops! He also picks at them too, that might not help the chipping issue. 

Jimin holds his thumbnail close to his face, studying the pattern of the chipped blotch of polish and wonders how chemists devise paint formulas to put on nails. Is Hoseok studying how to make nail polish in his chem classes? Is that what he is going to do when he graduates? He should invent a shade of violet polish that turns neon yellow in the sun, now wouldn't that be great! I should ask him about it-

"...you even listenin'?"

"Hmmm?" Jimin's eyes slowly come into focus on the man's tear-streaked face. This guy is wavering like he's going to pass out, and if that ensues Jimin will definitely have to call the coppers to come and snatch this man out of Radon. He doesn't want to do that. "Yes, I'm listening now. Did you say you wanted a taxi or-"

"I'll...call 'er." The man slurs, digging around in his pockets for his cell phone. Jimin studies the man's sorrowful features as he does so. This guy seems to be around his late thirties with a slightly pudgy, unmemorable face. Smooth and maybe even handsome features, if he would shave. Jimin stares back at his nails. "She's not...gonna g-get me..."

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