“I haven’t…” I tried to explain even though I knew he probably won’t let me. I was right – as soon as the words left my mouth, he slammed me into a wall once again, this time even harder than before.

That was more or less the moment when I started to panic. I didn’t know what the man was planning to do – if he was planning at all (probably not) – but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant. He was certainly way too drunk to be capable of performing clear judgment and given the fact we were theoretically out of the club – and on some dark hallway where people who happened to pass by didn’t give a about what was going on around them - he could pretty much afford to do with me whatever he wanted.

I collected my last ounces of strength and tried to escape his hard grip, but it was all for nothing – he didn’t even twitch. Actually, I was pretty sure he didn’t even notice my pathetic attempts of rebellion. And they really were pathetic, I didn’t know if it was because I had drunk a bit too much to function properly, or because I was just generally out of shape. When I came to think about it, it was probably both.

“It’s really rude you know.” murmured the man with slightly slurred voice. “Bumping into people like this.” he leaned closer again, giving me a perfect view of his red skin and almost suffocating me with the smell of sweat and alcohol spreading all around him. “Someone should teach you a lesson.” he continued.

Despite the obvious seriousness of the situation I couldn’t help thinking how this guy clearly thought he was in some poorly made action movie, regarding all of those cliché quotes he decided to throw in my face. I wanted to tell him that, but even though I drank enough to be able to talk to people honestly and without that annoying blockage in my mind, I hadn’t yet became suicidal.

I tried to escape his tight grip once again, even though I’d already known he was much stronger than me. This time I didn’t use just my hands but also my legs. The hallway was dark and my entire vision was blocked by his enormous face, so I didn’t really see what I was doing. I just collected all the strength I had left and kicked with maximum amount of force, actually sending the man a couple of steps back. His grip loosened a bit, but was unfortunately still there and still too strong for me to be able to shake it off. 

“You…” he groaned in pain and anger while he tried to regain his balance. “You…”

If I hadn’t been in a serious trouble before, I certainly was now. The men in front of me literally seemed ready to murder. If we were in a cartoon there would be smoke escaping from his ears and nose and he might even grow a pair of bull horns.

I had to do something – that was the only thought in my mind. I had to do something, I had to escape this crazy man in front of me before he sent me to the hospital or maybe on a cemetery. Unfortunately however I had no idea how. Perhaps I could think of something if there wasn’t so much of alcohol pumping trough my veins, causing my brains to pretty much turn into useless mush.

In the end I did the only thing that didn’t require too much of thinking and was likely entirely stupid and ineffective – I punched him as hard as I could. My hand probably hurt more than his nose, but he was so surprised he actually loosened his grip enough for me to able to shake it off. Unfortunately however he gained his composure sooner than I managed to get my completely shaken up limbs under control and only a second later I was once again pinned against the wall, this time with even more force than previously.

“You’re going to pay for that.” hissed the man with his slurred voice – and yes, I didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words at all.

His fist flew towards my face before I could even comprehend what was happening. The impact was painful as hell and for next couple of seconds I was completely blinded by the pain. Of course I experienced things like this before, mostly brought in reality by Minho and his gang. But when they bullied me I at least wasn’t afraid they were going to hurt me enough to send me into hospital – or kill me. This time however, I was.

I knew any kind of rebellion would be futile and dangerous at this point, so I just close my eyes and raised hands towards my head in order to protect my face.

The next hit never came.

Firstly I felt the man’s grip disappear and a second later there was a loud thump coming from the left, sounding just like something heavy fell on the floor with great force. I reluctantly opened my eyes, only to meet a slightly mocking stare Jongin was sending in my direction. I had no idea what he was doing here or what he did to the man whose body was now lifelessly lying on the floor only a couple of meters away from me, but I was pretty sure the reason he helped was something entirely selfish. 

“Wow.” he spoke mockingly after he made sure I noticed him. “You do realize this man was completely drunk and the only thing required to get him on the floor was one single punch right?” his eyes were full of amusement and I realized he enjoyed it. He enjoyed seeing me so weak, so helpless. Well, of course he did, what else did I expect, really. “I had no idea you are such a fragile little thing.”

I slightly raised my left brow, which – as I realized right away – was a huge mistake. I felt like my whole face was on fire and not just because of the embarrassment towards the fact he saw me at my lowest moment, but also as a side effect of the punch I had received. Even such a small movement as raising brows brought me great pain.

“I’m not a fragile little thing.” I defended myself, though I knew there was no use. If Jongin was telling the truth and he actually did get that guy on the floor with a single punch, then his statement was completely accurate.

“There is no use in denying it, freak.” smiled Jongin mockingly, his hands crossed on his chest and body leisurely leaned on the near wall. “The fact that you couldn’t defend yourself against drunk old man speaks for itself. Pathetic.”

“I’m not pathetic.” I said even though I actually agreed with him. My incapability in this case was certainly downright pathetic. But I would never admit that. Not to him at least.

“Right.” said Jongin in a manner that clearly implied he didn’t believe me at all. As usually during our conversations, his eyes were literally glued on me and all of the contempt and amusement I saw in them made me feel more than just a little annoyed. Why did he have to be the one that found me? And why did he help me anyway?

“Why did you help me?” I asked while trying to stand up straight - which wasn’t a very easy thing to do in the current situation. I only received one hit, but still felt like I had been run over by a truck. Or a train maybe.

Jongin sent me one of his typical smirks before replying. “I have my own reasons, freak.”

I huffed. “Let me guess – you helped because in that way I would feel indebted to you, which is something you can always use in order to control me and perhaps also because my weakness entertains you and you saw a damn lot of it a couple minutes ago. I’m sure there’s more reasons but I drank too much to be able to remember.”

Jongin slightly raised his brows, his eyes boring straight into me. He actually seemed serious and honest when he said; “Or maybe I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” But I wasn’t gullible enough to buy it. I knew him well enough to be familiar with the fact that he liked to play with other people’s hearts and heads. I didn’t intent to let him play with mine.

“Of course you do.” I said in a manner that clearly implied that I didn’t believe him at all.

“Oh.” he smirked, not even a little bit offended by my words (which just proved how right I was about him). “Your distrust is really breaking my heart.”

“You don’t have a heart.” I huffed, 100% believing in the accuracy of my words. I realized even Minho seemed more human than Jongin, at least he had some apparent weaknesses, while I so far hadn’t found any in Jongin. Well, except of course his terrible personality, but that wasn’t really a weakness because he could change into a charmer any time he wanted to.

“Whatever you say freak.” he smiled, his eyes full of amusement. Our weird conversation obviously entertained him more than it should. “Now, how about we get out of here? You look horrible – even more than usual which tells quite a lot – and I really don’t want to be seen with you for longer than absolutely needed.”

I huffed once again. “You can leave any time you want. Nobody is stopping you.” Of course I didn’t really want him to leave. I needed him to help me get home, or at least to his house. I had no idea how would I get anywhere without him, because I really didn’t know the way - not to mention it was late and I drunk a bit too much.

“And you would of course manage to get home all by yourself?” he asked mockingly, clearly already knowing the answer.

“Why do you even care?” I groaned quietly, but still loudly enough for him to hear me.

“This is Seoul, freak, not some small unimportant town. If I let you wander off on your own in the middle of night and half drunk, you could get yourself killed – which means I would have to find another victim and that is not even remotely as easy as it looks like.” he explained with voice that was much more appropriate for talking about the weather than talking about death and victims.

“Fine.” I murmured, trying to keep the relief I felt out of my voice - but I was sure he sensed it anyway, because he curled his lips upwards into another mocking smile.