-

Cymbals crash. Trumpets sound. And the wineglass crashes to the ground.

“Sir, you should stop drinking.”

“Be... quiet,” Kyungsoo slurs, rubbing his eyes. “You’re making my head hurt. Give me another glass.”

“Sir, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Shut up! Where’s my drink?” He opens his eyes, arms darting out to choke the bartender by the throat, but he can’t see anything. The outlines of the club are blurry, and it won’t focus. The flashing lights bore into his headache, and he groans.

“Sir— “

“I said shut up!” Kyungsoo roars, and the voice falls silent. Where the even is the voice coming from, anyways? A throbbing pain hits his head suddenly, and he cradles his head in his arms gently, wondering how he can get another drink.

I miss you so bad, the singer in the background croons. I miss you so bad.

“Yeah, that’s — that’s right,” Kyungsoo mumbles. “That’s pretty ing messed up. But it’s right.”

God, his head hurts so much. He tries again to ask for — no, demand — a drink, and finds he can’t open his mouth.

I miss you so bad, the woman rasps, and Kyungsoo nods mentally. That hurts too.

I miss you so bad, she sings again and Kyungsoo is dimly annoyed. Everyone gets it already. Why does she keep repeating the line?

I miss you so bad — the line is sung over and over again — I miss you so bad — he really hates this song — I miss you so bad —  her voice gets more and more distant — I miss you so bad — he doesn’t get to hear the last line — I miss you so bad — because he’s sinking into darkness —

I miss you so bad.

-