The sun is just beginning to peep over the horizon by the time Jiyong finally makes his way out of Club Octagon. More like stumbles out of the door and almost falls flat on his face, but whatever. He’s still -faced, vision blurred and speech slurred. He’s not seen Seungri for the past 2 hours - maybe the kid scored with those two Japanese chicks. Jiyong grins dopily as he pats down his pockets to find his phone. His smile doesn’t even waver when he can’t find it, that’s how drunk he is. Through fuzzy vision he manages to drag himself to the bus stop across the road where he can see a pay phone, as well as avoid being hit by a speeding moped – smile intact all the way. He fishes a number of coins from his pocket and feeds them into the slot of the pay phone. Somehow he manages to navigate the key pad to type in the number he’s had memorised for years.

The phone rings for a while and Jiyong tries to focus his sight on the posters pasted to the bus stop. He’s so distracted that he misses the person on the line picking up the phone.

“Youngbae!” Jiyong’s voice is way too loud for this time of morning “I need you to pick me up. I’ve lost Seungri and my phone. . . . And I think that scarf I picked up in that sample sale two seasons ago”. Jiyong’s smile wavers at the realisation. He really liked that scarf, and he’d got it for such a steal.

He’s too busy mourning the loss of his scarf to notice the long pause on the other side of the phone.

“Who is this?”

“I’m at the bus stop near to Club Octagon. I’m really hungry and I’m really ing drunk. I miss my scarf” Jiyong’s voice cracks as he slurs into the phone. “Are you going to pick me up or what?”

Another pause on the other side. “I think you have the wrong number, my friend”.

Jiyong can’t help but roll his eyes.

“This isn’t the time to be messing about, Youngbae”. Tears start to prickle the corners of Jiyong’s eyes. He’s always been an emotional drunk. “I’m having to use this dirty