‘Twas a dark night like any other…

Just kidding, but it was really a night like any other. Mother had gotten into an argument with the landlord, the apartment had been flipped upside down, and the monthly rent was already two months overdue. Being kicked out was the only plausible solution to the situation.

Kim Namjoo was already on the verge of going mad. Not adding to the list her 46-year-old mother who was just 12 years older than her acted no older than she herself, and she was only 28. Mad? Maybe a little crazy. From the time she was old enough to start drinking she’d been clubbing with her mother like she was her best friend. A little over the top?

YES.

Weird on so many other levels, because all Namjoo’s friend’s mothers were the responsible housewives who prepared the three meals a day and pampered their husbands as if they were babies. And Namjoo? Well, she didn’t really have a father but perhaps 4 or 5 adoptive fathers who her mother kicked out of the house after every heated argument. Maybe she didn’t really have a father then, but Namjoo still wanted to consider her mother’s boyfriends fathers. Most of them were ok. She only had problems with one y dude. That didn’t really last long, so that was no real problem.

Perhaps that also had to do with her sense of a lack of responsibility, because…she didn’t have any responsibilities. That didn’t mean Kim Namjoo took after her mother. And that didn’t mean she abhorred her mother in any sense. The woman was frustrating to no point’s end, but Namjoo didn’t hate her. Of course if her mother didn’t adult enough, the adulating was done by her. If the woman didn’t tend to her dues, the dues came to Namjoo.

For the nth time that month Namjoo had spent every three hours of the day reminding her mother to spend less only to spend more. By the end of Friday they’d be booted out of the apartment and become homeless…well, hobos. It didn’t seem like her mother cared at all. Too busy drinking, too caught up with males, too immersed in awful singing at the karaoke.

The last strand of patience that sent Namjoo keeling over the edge was she’d been fired from work. Not her fault though, at least she wouldn’t consider it her fault. A customer had called her ugly, so she had attacked…maybe a little physically but mostly verbally. It wasn’t her fault for defending herself, right? RIGHT? In any situation when she’d had enough dealing with crappy customers who wouldn’t snap when called something horrible? Customer service was the worst industry to be in. For a normal person’s fate like hers, where else would she find a job but in the damned customer service industry.

Anyway, she would be homeless after Friday and with no more paychecks coming in to save her own . Most ways, she was like her mother. In some ways, not. Tonight, she would take after her mother.

It was the usual club atmosphere. Stinky, wet floors and tabletops. Bodies crammed against one another and pounding music that made the ears explode. would be sore by the end of the night from screaming over the top of her lungs in order to be heard. That was how it was though, being in a nightclub that was. Kind of crazy, mostly fun. Most of all, it was the best way to forget reality for the night’s hours. Here in a club no one cares about who you are, what you do for a living, how much money you make, or your morals or values. Here in a club, what matters is how one person enjoys theirselves.

Head shaking, head spinning, the world spun around her like she was the pit of the axis. Hands roved over her body, males danced behind her. Namjoo grooved with them like the wild she was made of. The worst possible traits inherited from her mother sent her curling into nightclubs like there was no tomorrow. She just didn’t care about anyone but herself, she was shameless, and a horrible person within. When sober she liked to think she took after the father she never knew; she had a conscience. Her personas merged from time to time. Namjoo didn’t really know herself.

Sweaty and hot, Namjoo stumbled away from the dance floor and toward the table she shared with her friend, Nayul. The booth was currently empty but the table was filled with bottles needing to be downed and cups calling to be filled. Plopping down into the seat Namjoo crossed her legs, grabbed a bottle, and began chugging it. In major times, beer tasted just like water. Easy to drink, easy to swallow. Her mom’s fault.

Her eyes shot up when someone slid into the seat beside her. It was some man she’d never seen before. He wore a suave high fashioned jacket that cost probably thousands and a nice button-down underneath. His pants hugged his legs, hugged his bulge in a snuggly way. Her eyes rose back up his torso to his face. Handsome, she supposed. Hair spiked, he was groomed, and smelled more of cologne than liquor. It wasn’t right for a person not to smell like alcohol when in a club. Not attractive.

“What?” she asked demandingly.

Firmly smiling he said, “So, remember what we talked about?”

Namjoo’s eyes shot from side to side, “We talked?”

“Of course,” he nodded his head with emphasis.

Reaching over for a shot glass Namjoo poured herself some liquor then looked at him, “Want some?”

Holding his hand out, “Not yet.”

Smiling deviously Namjoo commented, “Whatever.” then lifted the glass up to . Tonight she was going to get good drunk. Pouring herself another glass she asked, “What’s your name?”

“It’s a secret,” he said. “But we were talking, you want to get out of here?”

“Out…of…here?” Namjoo repeated slowly. Tilting her head back to swallow the bitter liquor she let out a loud gasp. “What’s good outside?”

“We talked about it, remember?”

Her head was spinning. She knew they had just talked about something earlier, but she suddenly couldn’t remember. All she felt in that minute was high amusement. Choking back a laugh she nodded approvingly, “Let me finish this first.”

As she worked on finishing the bottle of liquor she could hear the man talking on the phone. The conversation sounded distant to her ears. On her left the loud music from the dance floor echoed noisily in her ears, struggling to overpower the man’s voice on her right. She shook her head unable to concentrate.

“Lets go,” she heard the man say and touch her arm to make her stand up. Namjoo was unable to control her train of thoughts. In moments they were outside. The night breeze whipped her face just seconds before she landed in the backseat of a car that started immediately. She began snoozing off in the back as business lights began skipping by. She was awoken later when the car came to a halt and the door opened.

“Come out,” the voice said.

Eyes narrowing Namjoo sat up and looked around. Was she home? Glancing out the open door she stepped out and looked around the quiet neighborhood. Not one house was in sight. A dark wall s around a lonesome building like a barrier. Her attention turned when iron gates opened.

“Go in,” the same voice told.

Confused but too mind warped to consciously think Namjoo obeyed without fear. She just wanted a bed to snuggle in and a warm blanket to hide under. When she finally reached a door after what felt like a long mile walk Namjoo yawned at the front door as she waited for it to open.

The doorbell rang. The man called out, “Hey Jongin, your hostess is here!”

The door cracked open and Namjoo felt a hand at her back before she was pushed in. Bright lights inside nearly blinded her. She shut them before taking a good look at the owner of the home. When she opened them again his back was to her. Namjoo only watched him sink into a comfy sofa that looked like fluffy clouds before picking up a glass.

“Come in,” he urged.

Silently Namjoo approached and sat adjacent to him. Sleepily, she stared at the classic brand name drinks on the table.

“You look different. Did they hire someone new?” he asked. She remained silent. The man whose face she hadn’t seen looked at her once then away. “Forget it. I’ll take it as I was dumped again.” Pouring a drink for her he said as he handed it over, “Leave when you finish this.”

Taking the glass between both hands Namjoo drank it down then held it out, “More.”

The man glanced her over, “You’re funny.”

Namjoo’s unfocused eyes landed on him. He appeared blurred before her, but that wasn’t what was important. cracked open and she chuckled. Laughter rolled out of her until she clutched her stomach. She was crazily amused in an undefined manner.

She was mad. She was crazy.

She was grateful for the lack of responsibility in her life, but that also drove her crazy. Only facing reality head on when she had to. Or else if not, she drove herself into believing she did the right things. From young, Namjoo took an example from her mother never to be sad. She had never been depressed before.

“You know what’s funny? My mom has had five boyfriends, but I still don’t have a dad. We’ve been unable to save any money at all. Our bank account is at a standard zero. Z-E-R-O,” Namjoo told with a breaking laugh.

Expressionless, he stared at her. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s funnier than calling a hostess over,” Namjoo chuckled unware of the dark frown on his face. “I mean,” she went on, “why do you need a hostess anyway? Wait a minute…does that mean I’m the hostess tonight?” Frowning, Namjoo stared at the floor wondering what was going on. Looking back at him, “Do I get money or something?”

“Money?”

Forgetting he was there for a second, Namjoo glanced at the empty glass in her hand. “Am I getting a drink or not?”

“You’re not. I told you to leave.”

Lowering the glass, she sighed. “For a moment, I thought you had a good heart.” Setting the glass onto the table she stood, “Whatever.” Before turning to go she asked, “Do you want to sleep with me?”

Bewildered, the man said, “What?”

“Oh man, what did I just say?” Namjoo shook her head then mumbled to herself, “That’s something mom would do.” Rubbing her chin Namjoo continued mumbling, “Never mind. I just want to sleep.”

“Then sleep.”

Namjoo’s wired mind blanked. Turning around she glanced at the man and watched him stand up.

“Hostess, lets sleep.”

A hand flew over when he pulled her closer. Staring straight into his eyes Namjoo saw her drunk self and felt sober for a short second. The urge came and she announced, “I’m gonna barf.”

The last thing she recalled was acid pouring out of .

Hours later with head dizzy and a headache drumming in her head, she moaned sleepily. The room was too bright, the sun too harsh. She flipped and ly opening her eyes when her feet brushed something warm. Moving her feet again she felt briskly hair. Dazed, she glanced down at the fresh white blanket covering her.

Sighing, Namjoo closed her eyes. They abruptly opened a point second later and she turned to see the man lying beside her. First gasping before covering with her hands in case she woke him. Sitting up Namjoo felt for the mini dress she’d worn last night. It wasn’t there. Instead, she was cloaked in a button-down messily buttoned up with the wrong holes.

“,” Namjoo swore quietly before crawling out of the overly large bed.

Landing on the ground on all fours Namjoo hastily sought for her mini dress. It was nowhere on the floor. She did spot a shirt though. Most likely it belonged to the man on the bed. Then did that mean…

Namjoo mentally slapped herself. , what had she done?!

That was when her eyes landed on a bag in the corner of the room. Hurriedly crawling toward it Namjoo observed the bag for her dress inside. She was sure it was her dress after a moment of pause that allowed her to remember puking. Then what had happened after that? There was a long blank. Turning around with heart jumping furiously, Namjoo stared at the bed where the stranger still slept. She recalled it. Lying under him the previous night and shedding a tear as they talked about something.

“Snap out of it,” she slapped herself this time.

She had to get out of there before he awoke. First, she needed time to think over what had really happened because hell, she didn’t remember anything. She was screwed…and hopefully, not physically.

Deciding that she had no choice but to leave in his shirt she crept out of the room and got to her feet once she exited the room. Her eyes sought for only one thing: the front door. Something huge on the wall made her stop as she tip-toed past. Stopping curiously, she shifted to stare at the wall-sized picture of a handsome man posing professionally. Namjoo was practically left in awe while her eyes roved over the suave man. His eyes were luring, that mischievous smile entrapping.

The phone rang from somewhere down the hallway causing her to jump. She had to leave fast! Turning around she ran around, tripped, and scrambled to her feet making sure the bag was tucked tight under her arm. There! The door in front of her. She was almost there.

Throwing the door open Namjoo mentally screamed success. Crossing the long front yard, she raced toward the iron gate, leaping toward the handle that would lead her to escape. Namjoo flew through the gate, but not before a camera flashed in her face. Halting immediately her first instinct was to turn her face away. Soon she heard another camera flashing then voices murmuring. When she looked ahead she spotted a hoard of photographers.

Definitely, very definitely she was very screwed.

***I know this wasn't much. I decided to keep it short, instead of going for the usual long and descriptive type of oneshot. Namjoo's a very messy character as we see. Want to see from Jongin's perspective and find out what actually happened? Then read the story when it comes out! =D