Sitting in the car in a ripped white jeans and an oversized jersey as Mark lectured me on how I should know better than to go off to a party of someone's who had hurt me countless times in the past (not that I remember much other than that day).

"Jamie-"

"Oh, look, we're here!" I yell as the car comes to a stop and I throw open the door before jumping out and dashing inside.

I was never one for parties, but something made me refuse to turn this one down.

A guy stood by the door and I'd had to give my name but for some reason, when I did, his eyebrows shot up in a surprised and yet sympathetic manner before he allowed me to enter much to my dissatisfaction.

My heart raced at the unfamiliar and yet familiar scene of bodies against each other, music blaring overly loudly to the point that you worried about your ear drums, people dancing and others making out in random corners. Unable to stay in this section of the house much longer, I squeeze through to where there was a literal inside bar where the drinks were being held out.

Taking a seat by it, I sigh in content at the relief of sitting.

I hear a soft chuckle in response causing my head to shoot up in the direction where I found a beautiful boy with the geekiest of glasses and brunette hair that nearly fell in his eyes. He had the emo­-like vibe surrounding him and yet he managed to draw up such a beautiful smile that had me forgetting anything that was once in my thought process.

"What's so funny?" I will myself to ask, stopping myself from wincing as I straightened my posture and raised my head slightly before raising an eyebrow to add to the effect.

It worked (I think).

"I just saw you arrive and you sound like you've been here for hours," he explains, raising a glass as he starts drying it off before he places it beside the wine bottles.

"Well, this isn't really my scene," I say as a lame excuse which has the boy laughing once again.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, clearly not having bought it and I know why only when he tells me, "This isn't my scene either and here I am standing longer than you have since arriving," he retorts and I can't stop myself from bursting out laughing.

"Of course this isn't your scene," I say and roll my eyes which end up looking him up and down, trying not to make it too obvious.

I failed.

I only know this when he laughs and says, "Hate to break it to you princess, but I'm gay."

I gasp before groaning and looking at him pointedly, "You're such a walking cliché. Not all bartenders are gay so why do you have to be someone that's a living, breathing stereotype?"

"I'm awesome that way."

"I wasn't checking you out though," I add before I forget and have him find me weird.

He shrugs and nods, "I know. I know you have feelings for someone else. It's obvious by the guilt-ridden look in your eyes. I'm sure it's okay to just look though."

"Are you in a relationship?" I ask.

"No, why?"

"I guessed and I was right. I'm not even surprised after hearing your words."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he starts mixing some drinks before pouring a glass for me before I could decline and politely ask for water. I was the type that refused to decline once it was already in my possession.

"Do you have a name?" he asks me and I nod.

He groans and shakes his head before smiling at me, "I'm Na Ungjae, nice to meet you."

I grin up at him, "Jamie Samuels, nice to meet your acquaintance."

At the mention of my name, I don't miss the way his eyebrows raise before they crease in either worry or concern, I would never know, and how his mouth sets into a firm line. I see the way his already dark eyes turn shades darker in moments.

However, as quickly as it changed, it changes again and he's smiling as he shoves a glass over the counter and into my hands gently, "A famous drink of mine," he tells me.

A lot of people would tell me that I was too trusting and I guess I could never argue because I knew it was true. There was never any point in denying it.

"Drink up," he tells me gently, his deep voice octaves softer and lighter that I nearly jumped.

Nevertheless, I did as I was told.

It went on like this for a few minutes; I'd grown addicted to the taste of the drink and kept asking for more, not that I was much of a drinker in the first place.

When I got to the seventh drink, Ungjae had grown reluctant and continuously begged me to stop requesting his drink.

Not once did I consider why he was so frantic.

Even as I sit, my entire body is swaying from side to side and I nearly fall to the ground had it not been for the arms that circle around my waste and I'm held securely in place.

When I look up, I meet Mark's concerned and pained expression as he looks at me before helping me up and setting me against the wall nearby.

His grip tightens as he speaks; stressing his words as much as possible as he says, "Don't go anywhere, alright? I'll be right back, Angelpie," before his hands disappear and I'm left alone in my own drowning and unbearable thoughts.

I can hear Mark yelling and Ungjae's voice screaming after.

But for some reason, they grow more and more distant until I realize why.

I was picked up.

I was being carried.

My thoughts were a mess, my heart was in pieces and my body ached as it hit me.

"Let's go, my love," his voice fills my ears and I feel shivers run up and down my spine.

My head is spinning and no matter how much I try to punch and kick and scream, nothing works; my body is as unresponsive as my thoughts and I have the urge to cry, but that too didn't work.

Moments later, I've out.

The last thought on my mind being: Did I lock the front door?