[12] BOURBON, gallant
angels say trust the detox but I’m shaking I need it like bourbon in my coffee cup

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Taehyun dashed through one of the many hallways of the third floor, tearing his hair while the half-eaten salad of his dinner threatened to make a messy comeback. His teammate, one of the rappers of his group, his friend, his other friend—

Taehyun’s grip on his hair hardened. He remembered Seungyoon eyeing the jumper that Minho always wore, Seungyoon mumbling “why does it look so familiar?”

“Because before it’s Minho’s, it was Soojung’s,” Taehyun hissed through gritted teeth. “And before it was Soojung’s…” The words died in his throat.

He so, so badly wanted to punch something—to punch someone—every time that—that flashed again in the front of his mind.

Seungyoon and he should have carried on with their original plan: To punch the one deserving of it. But he was five years older than them and a few billions richer. They would get to see his broken nose and that would be a victory so sweet, until exile from the industry punched them back in the face, shattering their dreams, those wishful what-ifs.

Nobody would hurt Soojung anymore. They’d made a mistake once but there would be no more rappers messing up with her, no more, no more the likes of G-ing-Dragon. So what if Minho liked his girls pretty and mean? It was too simple: “Can’t always get what you want,” The Rolling Stones would say.

“Look, Minho,” Taehyun entered the studio his friend was working in and, taking in his surrounding (pools of crumpled paper, empty cups of cheap black coffee, dim lights, a songwriter’s anguish), stopped in his tracks. “What the hell?” he questioned his friend before he could stop himself.

A low murmuring sound answered him. “You know now? Jinwoo hyung told you?” Minho was buried deep under the paper, something invisible other than gravity seeming to push him, push him deeper into the ground.

Taehyun took one wary step back and, soundlessly, shivered.

Wheels inside his mind turning, he assessed the situation and ended up summoning one thought: If any one of them was entitled to be upset, it was him and not Minho. So what gives?

The memory—the words—the pitiful heart-to-heart confession thinly veiled with a pathetic lie—they came barreling in Taehyun so fast that he almost staggered back a few steps.

“You—you’re her—distraction… You’re Soojung’s rebound…”

Taehyun limped to the nearest seat, his mind struggling to process the twist while the half-eaten salad of his dinner, again, threatened to make a messy comeback.

“I think I’m going to be very sick.”

“Already am,” Minho heaved.

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Each of them had had a role to play in this mess.

Seungyoon had been a kid playing matchmaking, while Soojung, a father’s daughter aching for a first love’s touch. G-Dragon had been the villain hiding behind a Prince Charming’s mask, while Seunghyun hyung, watching all of them with a solemn, approving smile, sometimes stepping up to tell Jessica sunbaenim, “Ugh, come on, Jess, Soojung’s mature enough to make her own decisions.”

Taehyun felt very sick; he had been the stupid spectator rooting for the scandalous love story from the sidelines, naively oblivious to the scheme—the lie—

All of them should have listened to Jessica sunbaenim especially G-Dragon. “Screw off, you ing . You think you can fool me with that lying smile of yours? Stay away from my sister, now!”

“I like her and she likes me. What is so wrong with two consenting adults dating? You can’t shield her from a nonthreat, Sooyeon.”

“A nonthreat? Sure thing, Jiyong. You’re just a harmless pup looking for a new owner after your last one kicked you out of the house and to the curb, right?”

Each of them had had a role to play in this mess, and the person who knew best that they needed no more innocent person tangled in it was none other than the innocent herself, Soojung.

Now studying the boy slumped in the couch—tired from his schedule, defeated by God knows what—Taehyun felt new anger sear through his veins. Soojung knows what it feels like to be used and broken! “I’m so sorry I didn’t know. It’s wrong and terrible what she’s done to you. As soon as possible, I will have a serious talk with her.”

Minho snorted like what Taehyun just suggested was ridiculous. “What the hell? I’m not fourteen, this isn’t schoolyard bullying, you’re not her father. I appreciate you as a friend, Taehyun, but you don’t just barge in and ‘have a serious talk with her.’”

“But it’s not like you can still continue meeting her under good terms now,” Taehyun scoffed, not really seeing the reason why the boy was so adamant in getting hurt. “There won’t be any happy ending, Minho. You’ve—Christ—you’ve been used.”

Minho suddenly snapped in his rough, deep voice. “I know it, alright!” His breath was ragged and erratic. He gave himself a moment to calm down and pled, “If you really want to help me, Taehyun, then tell me everything.”

Taehyun tore his hair, torn between helping his friend by telling him everything or helping his friend by not telling him anything at all. “It’s… It’s complicated.”

“I don’t even know whom I’m supposed to fight…”

Taehyun closed his eyes and leaned his back against the couch. “It’s—”

“Complicated, I know,” Minho bitterly accepted. “Thanks for the concern. If you can’t tell me the truth, it’s okay. Just—don’t do anything, please? I’ll take care of my own relationship. Or whatever it is between Soojung and me.”

This was not going the way Taehyun wanted. He waved his hand in dismissal, hoping he won’t give the older guy hope because that was dangerous. “You know what? Go home to your parents’ house. Make sure to get some rest tonight.”

“Our managers—”

“I’ll handle them. We talk again tomorrow.”

“We do?”

It was difficult to process: coming, feeling royally pissed at Minho and leaving, losing the reason behind