In some ways, drinking is artistic.

Not like drinking water or anything—I mean drinking alcohol and getting high. It translates as a human’s portal to a better, prettier, psychedelic reality—where colors are more intense and feelings even less—a world doused with art. Drinking is just another kind artistic attempt, like an artist wanting to paint to see a whole new different world.

“I completely agree with you,” Jaehyung says, the alcohol slurring his speech. Did I say that out loud?

Or maybe I’m just talking , because Lee Jaehyung nuzzled against my side looks like anything but artistic under the influence of alcohol.

As attractive as Jaehyung is with his platinum blonde hair and his killer body that girls would kill to have a taste of, nothing comes close to the butterflies that a certain someone else gives me.

And that person just happens to be in the same party as I am, standing in the corner of the room like the loner he usually is.

“I’m gonna go grab myself another cup of fruit punch,” I lie. “And you can stay here because you look like you’re two seconds away from vomiting and my sneakers are brand new. So,” I send a look of disgust at Jaehyung who looks like a kicked puppy, but leans away from me anyway.

After making sure that Jaehyung doesn’t face plant into the carpeted floor leaning away from me, I find myself walking into the opposite direction of where the fruit punch is actually located. I walk towards the corner of the room shamelessly, as I sneak another look at the sofa where Jaehyung is sleeping, making sure he doesn’t see that I’m kind of abandoning him.

The poor boy has his eyes closed with his mouth hanging open, head tilted backwards leaning into the sofa’s backrest. I snicker.

“Baekhyun!” I call confidently, making the said boy jolt from his laid back position. I smile apologetically at him and he frowns a little, eyes showing an unreadable expression. “Uh, hello?” he flashes a wary smile, tucking his free hand into the pocket of his jeans.

I blink for a few seconds, reminding myself to breathe even when Baekhyun looks absolutely breathtaking with his spectacles nowhere in sight. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” I start. He looks at me a little weird and straightens himself away from the wall.

“Sorry, but you are…?” he smiles apologetically, head tilting a little to the right further proving his point of not knowing who I am. My face looks a little crestfallen and he seems to have noticed it, and adds, “I’m so sorry but I’ve been told that I’m really bad with introductions!”

“I’m Minhwa,” I force myself to laugh a little. “We have a few classes together.” More specifically three classes together on Mondays and Thursdays but I’m not keen on scaring him away with my unnecessary knowledge.

“Ah!” he shows a flash of recognition and I light up a little bit. “They usually call you Hyunah, don’t they?” he pipes. I try not to let my shoulders deflate too much. “Yup,” I reply casually.

“I think I remember you now—it was kind of hard to recognize you in the dark. Your hair is a bit different, isn’t it?” Baekhyun says after a bit, and I get the gist that he’s just trying to be polite. I shrug and smile, fearing that my unenthusiastic voice will betray my chances of not being a creep in front of Baekhyun, touching the tips of my hair I’ve just freshly dyed blonde.

“I get bored of my hair color a lot, and I didn’t want to damage it too bad so I only got my tips done,” I finally say. Baekhyun relaxes at my longer than just a word answer, and I feel a little bit of my confidence seeping back into my veins.

“It’s pretty—I actually thought you dyed it to match your boyfriend’s hair,” Baekhyun says easily. My face must’ve looked like somebody had just died because his eyes double in size and he quickly pipes, “Did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to?”

My brain calculates one plus one and realizes that Baekhyun must have thought that Jaehyung is my boyfriend.

“Uh, if Jae—” I don’t get to finish my sentence because Baekhyun averts his gaze and visibly beams at someone or something behind me, and I turn my head to follow where his gaze is directed. My throat dries at the flash of recognition the person emits at the sight of me.

“Jagi,” she beams, walking past me and bumping her shoulder against mine while she’s at it. I try to tune out the sound of my heart breaking at the mention of “jagi”, and silently tries to slip back into the crowd of bodies slithering to the beat of the music.

The actually grabs me at my wrist and spins me around.

“Yoon Minhwa, where do you think you’re going?” she spins me around, and I force a million dollar smile even when Baekhyun’s ar