If he was to be fully honest, he hated his alcohol tolerance. He wanted to drink till he could forget for weeks at times, he wanted to forget. A confident persona could never rival his problems, but alas he drinks and is still as sober as he started.
Forgetting exactly why he started drinking at 4pm in the afternoon, there he was. Sitting alone at apartment alone, knowing fully that Moon was out with someone who wasn't him. Why he was hung over on the topic? Who knows at this point, all he needed to know was that he hated the thought of it.
The thrill of messing around with people popped up in his mind making him smirk. He had entirely forgotten the reason why he started in the first place. Hell he never he got his heart broken before, why did he start? A lot of things he's done was just on impulse he assumed
I'm gonna have a migraine if I keep trying to find a reason.. He massaged his template trying to calm down his bursting headache. "God I want more soju.." he muttered getting up from where he was seated.
Digging through the, mostly alcohol filled fridge. Now understanding his totally healthy love for alcohol. If he was gonna be fully honest he was highly insane for the drink for whatever that only managed to fuel his love for it. Neither did it help that both him and his roommates were insanely heavy weight.
Opening the classic green bottle open, he debated on drinking it dry or drinking it in a shot glass. Subconsciously why he was debating he had started to sip from the bottle. The familiar taste of the soju made him smile.
"At this point this is borderline addiction.." he cackled to himself to give him a feel of joy before reverting back to his gloom. The joy of drinking his mind away was appealing yet something he could never achieve. He threw his head back letting it rest on the back of the chair. Staring up to the ceiling and just blankly thinking.
It was the type of thinking that he couldn't comprehend if he tried to. A notification rang from his phone, confused as hell on what dared disturbed him. Oh. was the only thing he could think of.
A simple picture, if you could call it simple. Of two hands holding. On the instagram, of his best friend. Fuck.
He clutched his phone tightly as a stinging started to form. He threw his phone across the room and sat there with a grim expression. He hated everything about it, everything that it had to offer. He hated everything and everyone in a 100 meter radius
A memory popped into his head making him saunter after his phone. It somehow wasn't as cracked as he thought it was gonna be. Of course he was gonna change the screen protector, but he still managed to not cut his finger on the broke pieces. The contact name making him gag at the sight, he still rang it and put it on speaker to delay any broken pieces coming into contact with his skin.
The ringing continued as he stood there leaning on one of his legs more than the other. "Mm, why are you calling me Na boy?" the feminine voice rang. Forgetting for a moment on why he called he impulse started to speak, "What's your address?"
"Pardon?"
"Did I fucking stutter? What's your address?"
A soft chuckle emitted from the phone, "Needy aren't you Na boy?" he stayed silent waiting mostly impatiently. "I sent you the address kid, I expect to see you, yeah?" he could tell how smug the female was in that moment.
"Whatever.." he muttered hanging up on her. Feeling extremely low effort he slipped on some simple shoes and left with his house keys. Viewing the address, the familiar location flashed through his head as he made his way to his car.
Pulling the door open, he sat in the leather seat for a long moment considering why he was doing this in the first place. The fact that he barely even felt tipsy made him annoyed, revving up the car he drove out of the parking garage and practically sped down the street.
