^{_{. .}} five ^{_{. .}}

The welcome is the same as usual, smelling like hard liquors and cigarettes as he dodges his way through the people towards the bar in the opposite side from the entrance.  The familiar atmosphere makes him feel more at ease than would his own home at the moment. It's just too much to bear with. He tries to focus on the music; the beat, and all the early ones who are already engrossed in the deep bass, as eager to drown themselves in the song as Hyukjae wants to do with alcohol.

His legs lead him expertly towards the bar counter, knowing exactly where he’s going, and it doesn’t take long before he hops on top of a tall stool next to Taehyung. He wants nothing more but to erase everything from his head that has happened today. It's so absurd; for him, nothing like this was supposed to happen.

“What up?” the few years younger male asks before he’s even given a look towards his friend of few years already. He has a beer on his hand, but he’s drinking through a red straw, blankly staring ahead as if he’s occupied into thinking something important; important most likely including something with a pretty girl—or a guy, by all means.

Hyukjae doesn’t really give a damn.

He orders a beer for himself, shoulders a little tense and eyes gazing through the counter. His head is way louder than he thought it would be, and it pisses him off. It would probably ease his nerves if he actually told Taehyung what was going on—but how many s did this guy really give?

“Stuff,” he notes dully, staring his beer for a while before he takes a long gulp of it.

“That bad?” Taehyung finally gives him a scrutinizing glance.

The curly hair of his has obviously been dyed; Hyukjae can’t say for sure if the color is some sort of a light, ashy lilac or something entirely different (he would have to consult a girl if he wanted to know what it is actually called, but he doesn’t seriously care that much). It is, however, surprisingly fitting, he notes. For the record, last week it was orange. A month ago, dark brown.

“Total crap,” Hyukjae mutters bluntly. More beer disappears into his mouth.

Taehyung orders four shots of vodka, and puts two in front of Hyukjae.

“Good ol’ vodka never fails to lighten up the mood,” he declaims, taking his own shots—yes, both of them—onto his hands.

The older sighs, and takes one of his own to hold up in the air, a bit sad smile dominating his lips. Taehyung clinks their classes together, and pours the two into his mouth in single file with a grimace. Hyukjae follows, drowning one down his throat. The burning sensation doesn’t last too long, and he too destroys the second one.

The warmness spreads over his body, leaving him in a dazed state for a short while. He thinks he might already feel a little better—although, in the back of his mind, he knows it's all just illusion and dream.

Two hours later his whole body feels feather-light and heavy as a bile of rocks at the same time. The alcohol has started to take its toll.

He knows he’s at the point where he should just keep going to totally clear his head and let loose, because stopping now would only make him feel even more like than he already does.

He doesn’t resist when a beer bottle appears in front of him again.

Palms pressed against his temples, and sight glued somewhere faraway although he keeps staring in front, Hyukjae lets out a dry laugh.

“What’s funny?” Taehyung asks, not even slurring yet. His tolerance is incredible, and beats Hyukjae’s more often than not. He doesn't need to get completely wasted to get loose.

“Everything,” Hyukjae huffs, clicking his tongue. “My life—all of it.”

Taehyung looks at him warily, slowly eyeing him up and down. Hyukjae thinks the guy might see more than he lets out. Sometimes his gaze is so thorough; yet it is usually buried under his high energy and crazy antics. He could compare him to a dog that lived in the house next to theirs when he was little; it could play fetch the ball for billion times and it wouldn’t get tired of it. The guy is bat crazy sometimes. It’s a little funny that alcohol actually calms him down.

He laughs again, covering his eyes with his fingertips this time, and then brushing his fingers through his hair—it's more of a habit of anxiety than boredom.

“Just crazy happening today,” he mumbles under his breath, feeling a little dizzy as he thinks further into the matter. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Hyukjae gulps half of his beer down.

Taehyung orders something that’s blue in color—Hyukjae never remembers the name of that drink. He notices that Taehyung is already flirting with a girl in the near distance; her dance moves on the floor are sensual, and her eyes hauled to their way. She’s pretty, but too innocent and therefore boring for Hyukjae’s liking.

He decides it’s time for him to get his own game on, standing off the stool. The younger turns to look at him, giving him a knowing look.

“Someone caught your interest?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, good luck then, mate.”

“See you around,” he notes for goodbye.

The sea of people is thicker than at the time he arrived. But it’s Saturday, so he’s not surprised to see the place so packed tonight either. The alcohol has finally started to dull the storm raging inside of him, and it feels like he’s finally able to breathe.

All he can think about for now is to find a good and forget everything.

He’s already noticed a girl about his age; hot and all, with long legs and a mischievous glint in her eyes and lips when she smiles. She hangs with two friends, but those two aren't the same; she has red hair a bit waved at the tips and cat-like eyes made with black eyeliner—she looks dangerous, whereas her friends look just ordinary and plain. Hyukjae meets her gaze, and the corner of her lips curls up to a smirk. He knows she's on his hook, and he turns his back to her, giving a last peek over his shoulder before he returns to the bar.

It doesn’t take long before the female accompanies him at the bar, and Hyukjae buys her a drink in exchange for a cigarette. She says what she thinks, and doesn’t bother with unnecessary or boring small-talk; she talks like they could have known each other for a while already. Hyukjae likes that. She reminds him a little about Jiah, and although he never loved her, he admits women like her tend to get his attention.

They are after the same things; fun and sense of freedom.

When she gives him the cigarette, Hyukjae takes a long drag of it, feeling how it calms his mind for a second. It’s probably Marlboro, he thinks briefly. Smoking is just a habit he gives in when he’s drunk. More of a social thing than an addiction. She observes him curiously, ordering another round of a bit lighter drinks.

The events of the day has started to fade into the back, and his head is now filled with more trivial things. Things like red hair tickling his neck and hot breaths whispered against his ear.

“I love this song,” she says enthusiastically, grapping his wrists and beaming at him, as she tries to get him to the floor. “Dance with me! Please?” She grins widely, and Hyukjae shakes his head twice, giving her a meaningful smirk.

“Yah! You want to play dirty?” she inquires, pulling Hyukjae on his feet.

“Is that a challenge?” he asks with an almost unnoticeably slur, grinning back at her with a playful yet lusty glint in his almond eyes. She leans in to peck his lips, and then pulls him through the mass of people, amongst all other young people who have finally let loose.

Many songs, dances and making out sessions later Hyukjae finds himself from another unfamiliar apartment; shirtless, sweaty strands glued against his forehead, and the red head finally going down on him. He lets out a greedy moan when her tongue slides around him.

His head feels finally light.

He knows it won’t last long, so when he’s close to the peak, Hyukjae pulls the girl up and lets their mouths clash fiercely against each other again. The last remnants of her clothes are thrown to the floor right before he pushes her onto her bed and climbs on top.

They don’t know each other’s names. They won’t change phone numbers.

It's perfect.

It’s only an hour later when he lays on the bed, sweaty, and worn-out, when he remembers again what awaits at home.

The door clacks rather quietly when Hyukjae arrives to his apartment in the middle of the night. Steps unbalanced, yet head uncomfortably clear again, he tries to slide off from his jacket.

It’s silent.

He doesn’t think anyone could be awake at this hour anymore when he walks towards the living room, wishing to fall onto the couch and be knocked out immediately he lands on it. He ruffles his hair, eyes closing from tiredness, but the next second he opens them the sight makes him hiss in frighten.

“Bloody hell! Damn it!”

Donghae is sitting on the couch, other knee pulled up against his chest. He’s looking at the older angrily, hushing him to be quiet.

“Could you not do that?” Hyukjae groans and palms his face.

It's easy to sense the fact how Donghae fumes inside. The older’s not really up for a fight. He only wants to get some sleep, but Donghae’s gist foretells otherwise. Hyukjae takes a note of the unfamiliar book on top his coffee table; it must be Donghae’s, since he doesn’t read as far as he’s aware of that.

“Fresh air my ,” Donghae suddenly snarls, a bit more to himself only—but it’s obvious he wants Hyukjae to hear it too. “You’re drunk aren’t you?”

In the nightly, blue-hued room, Donghae’s hair looks more of black than brown, and his eyes look deeper and the bags under them darker. His body looks tense, as if he’s really trying to hold onto his anger; he has his locked fingers held up covering his mouth; giving Hyukjae the cold eye, clenching his jaw and crunching his nose up.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Hyukjae doesn’t say anything. The state he’s in is probably more than clear to the other.

“I really can’t understand what the hell your ex has been thinking even considering you to look after your daughter,” Donghae continues, and Hyukjae has already caught up to the hateful tone. This is the emotion he’s seen in Donghae’s eyes and attitude from time to time.

“It’s your own child for Christ’s sake.” Donghae stares at him from under his eyebrows.

The thudding inside his head has gone worse. His head spins.

“Would you have done the same if it wasn’t for me looking after her? What would you do if I wasn’t here, huh?”

The feeling he got when he opened the door and realized it was his daughter standing there comes rushing back; he feels handless, wrong and hopeless. Never even thinking otherwise about his abilities to take care of her; he perfectly knows that he could be a father good enough to no one.

“You’re so selfish,” Donghae growls, yet he makes sure he doesn’t raise the volume of his voice too high. “You’re a selfish low-life.”

Hyukjae stares back to Donghae’s eyes with a wall over his emotions. He already knows this. He buries his face into his hands, taking deep breaths, but it doesn’t really help. There’s no relevant objections against what Donghae says. There’s no reason to defense himself, when everything that’s been said till now has been true.

It just hurts him a little to hear all these from a person who used to be his friend. A good friend; someone he really enjoyed to spend his time with, until it just…it just wasn’t anymore.

He doesn’t really know this Donghae.

“I never said I would keep her, for ’s sake,” he suddenly snaps back.

Donghae lets out a dry, cold laugh.

“You’re exactly as bad as everyone has always said you are.”

That comment makes no sense to him. Everyone? Who the hell is he talking about? The damned soccer team from high school?

“What the is that supposed to mean? You think you know me?” the older snorts hatefully, “You think you’re all posh and perfect? Is that all you ever thought about me? That you’re better than me?”

Something might flicker there, but the distain in Donghae's eyes doesn’t change. He stands up slowly, closing the few steps between them as he glares Hyukjae hatefully in the eyes.

“I think I know more than enough,” his tone goes extremely low, “There’s not much to know about you, is there? You’re already showing me what you really are.”

Hyukjae grits his teeth, and pulls his fingers into fists. There’s a burning sensation in his eyes, but he tries to force himself to get back together. He’s heard similar words before; this is nothing new—just a different person.

“You don’t give a single for Jaemin, nor anyone else. Can you imagine what it must feel like when your parents don’t want you? Think about her! You’re heartless, Hyukjae…”

The dizziness blurs his vision for a second, and his insides churn in agitation. He blames the alcohol when he already feels tears in his eyes—but he doesn’t let them fall, he won’t. Lips curving into a crooked, extremely miserable smile, Hyukjae lets out a short, shallow laugh.

“Donghae… You don’t know ,” he notes surprisingly calmly, “I won’t even argue with you about this. Isn’t it clear that I’m a loser?”

Donghae frowns slightly, looking at Hyukjae suspiciously.

“But that I don’t get…” he mumbles, with a short pause, “that you judge me, when you really don’t know what has happened during those six years since you decided to ditch me… What did I ever did to you to deserve that, by the way?” Now, his voice slurs slightly. His brains are about to shut down.

There’s still no answers, but Hyukjae wants to think there’s a little hint of regret or shame when he tries to catch Donghae’s gaze from sailing to the other side, avoiding his. He has his toned arms crossed over his chest again. 

“Call me an and all you want, but don’t you dare to think you know me when you’ve only seen the surface…” Hyukjae’s voice has gone down, it’s soft from exhaustion and emotions he’s tried to bury deep inside for a long time.

Donghae bites his lip, and Hyukjae knows he might have an impact on him, because he’s obviously lost a little of his confidence.

“Whatever,” the younger says hastily, still looking away until he has a new insult on his tongue. “You better find your ex. At least there’s no way she could be any worse than you are.” Donghae turns around, but he comes back suddenly to pick up the book he left on the small table in front of the couch.

Hyukjae bites the insides of his cheeks hard as he watches Donghae walk away again, swallowing the tears of frustration. It hurts. The past hurts—because he still doesn’t know what he ever did wrong to Donghae. Before that everything was great; only after half a year Hyukjae’s life started to go downfall.

“Good night to you too,” he mumbles darkly before he lays down on the couch and curls up to sandwich himself properly between the armrests of his sofa. Without a duvet, he settles to pull his hood over his head to keep him a little warmer through the night. 

an 0706: this is more of a filler chapter, but I think it was necessary.
I didn't mark this as m because...anything happening here is so mild it feels dumb to put any...
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thanks for reading ~