But four drinks I'm wasted

I can see you dancing 

I can lay down next to you 

King Princess

She was a thorn-filled rose; utterly beautiful, almost enchanting and Seulgi just couldn’t resist. So, slowly, in this crowd, she approached her, with nothing but a hazy mind.

Amongst the many flowers, she only saw her. Rose. Blood red.  

Closer, closer, closer. Seulgi did everything she could to squeeze through the ever growing crowd. And finally, she was there, in front of her and she had never looked so beautiful.

In her dazed state, Seulgi took her hand to catch her attention. She had her eyes on her now.

“Hi, my name is Seulgi.” She muttered, clearly enamoured by her mere presence, her dark gaze piercing into hers. 

Looking at Seulgi intently, she replied after a while, "Hello Seulgi, my name's Irene. Want to go some place quiet?"

Seulgi was captivated the moment she opened her crimson-red lips to speak. Her voice was now her favourite melody. I could listen to her for hours.

She nodded her head to her question.

There, Irene tugged her hand and brought her to a park nearby. Away from the neon lights, sweaty bodies gyrating against each other and the loud, loud music. And out here, away from the other flowers, with only Irene, her rose, Seulgi started to dream, started to imagine all the possibilities.

But Seulgi wanted to know her better. So, with the dark sky as their setting, she started a conversation. And really, it wasn't a conversation. Just Seulgi talking and Irene listening, waiting. 

And, that day was just the beginning.

Soon, they met for drinks in cafés, bars, anywhere. Just know that they were with each other every single day, every passing minute. And Seulgi didn't know when, but slowly, gradually, she became obsessed with her. She craved her touch, her attention, her everything and that was still not enough. She wanted Irene for herself. Because she was hers. My rose. Only mine.

And Seulgi could not deny this for a fact. 

Irene was the epitome of perfection. Maybe she was perfection itself. Everything any girl would want, everything Seulgi yearned for but she was yet still a mystery. Seulgi wanted to uncover every nook and cranny of Irene; she was that obsessed. To the extent where she no longer wanted to just be beside her. She wanted her love, she wanted to know everything there was to know about her. She wanted to engulf her like the waves of the Pacific Ocean. It was still not enough. 

But soon, Seulgi realised something - she was vulnerable, lost in an enchanted garden filled with beautiful, blooming flowers. And Irene was the most exquisite, most eye-catching flower. Bright, gorgeous, red, she was perfect. And Seulgi was enraptured. 

So, she approached her, clueless about her true identity. Because although she was the prettiest, she was also the most dangerous.

The closer she got to her, the longer she held her hand, whispered sweet nothings to her, she noticed blood on her fingertips, trinkling down her arms, down her elbows, down, down, down. But she never did bother to wipe them.

At first, the thorns only touched her fingers and the blood were faint enough to ignore but later, more blood appeared. And now, not just her fingertips were drenched with scarlet blood, her palms too. Filled with the thorns from Irene, Rose, yours truly. 

But Seulgi