Chapter 8

Sehun

Seulgi was drunk. Her eyes were glassy, her lips pursed as she huffed, annoyed that Wendy and Chanyeol were ignoring each other (though they kept sending pitiful looks at each other across the dance floor). She kept humming tunelessly under her breath, singing songs from Hercules and shimmying to her own beat, rather than the bass line of the Usher song the DJ was playing.

Sehun couldn’t stop staring at his partner. She was… kind of beautiful. And slightly vulnerable.

Sehun, being the good friend that he was, was as close to Seulgi as he could get, creating a wall between Seulgi and her distracted drunk dancing and the creepers who were circling like buzzards around a carcass.

So. Maybe Sehun was a little tipsy as well. And maybe he was a bit of an Edgar-Allen-Poe drunk. What? It was a thing. Or it could be.

Quoth my dignity, “Nevermore,” Sehun thought, contorting his face into some sort of snarl as a blonde with a quiff the size of Mount Everest leaned into Seulgi’s side.

Everest backed off.

A familiar cough sounded in his ear, and Sehun shielded Seulgi with his arm on instinct, before turning.

“Your inner caveman is showing,” Chanyeol deadpanned.

“She’s drunk, okay? I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her,” Sehun snapped.

“Cute,” Chanyeol quipped, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Jealousy doesn’t look bad on you, actually. You’re quite ‘Tarzan meets Bond’ right now.”

Sehun wrinkled his nose at him, and Seulgi reached up from the circle of Sehun’s arms to poke it. “Boop.”

Chanyeol chuckled and Sehun’s idiotic grin receded for just long enough to lecture him in turn. “So I see that Wendy is dancing on the other side of the ing room. How’s that working out for you?”

Seulgi snorted and gestured at the other two. Sehun and Chanyeol exchanged glances and leaned in so they could hear a quiet: “Stupid ponces who won’t just make out.” Seulgi giggled into her hand, swaying into Sehun.

“Oi. Hi, my name is Parl Chanyeol, actually, and I’m right here, prick.” Chanyeol dragged a hand through his hair, then frantically tried to fix it, looking for a nearby reflective surface with a kind of religious fervor.

Seulgi stood on her tippy-toes, leaning into Sehun. “He can hear me?”

Sehun rolled his eyes. Seulgi was, apparently, a lightweight. “Yes, Seul, he can hear you.”

“I can barely hear myself over his shoes.” Seulgi giggled into Sehun’s shoulder.

Sehun squinted. Chanyeol’s trainers were fuchsia. Seulgi had a point.

Wendy walked over to the group, returning an enthusiastic hug from Seulgi. Sehun tried not to tense up, but from the smirk Wendy sent him over her friend’s shoulder, he was less than successful.

“Seulgi,” Chanyeol said, walking back to the group, “didn’t you say you wanted to dance with some pretty boys tonight?”

Seulgi peered up at the others from below her long eyelashes. Sehun flushed for no good reason. “Yes?”

“Is that a question, or an answer?” Wendy asked, quirking her head to the side. Sehun cursed at her loudly in his head

“It's an answer, right, Hun?” Seulgi looked at him. “We were both going to get laid tonight, right?”

“Sure, Seul,” Sehun replied, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t like he had a say in who Seulgi took home.

When Seulgi linked arms with a tall brunette with big eyes and a dimple and pulled her out to the dance floor, he sent him a glare.

Sehun looked around with the same menacing glare, sure he probably looked like a serial killer, but it must have worked for the unsuspecting lady who, really, wasn’t his type at all, that he grabbed by the elbow and dragged out next to Seulgi and her dance partner.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he m