“come on baby, don’t hesitate and come to me quickly”

i’m different by suhyun feat. bobby

p r o l o g u e

***

It’s a typical Saturday night for Jennie.

Just as her every other Saturday night goes, they have once again overstayed at the restaurant, which has stolen their chances of getting a decent table at the local bar in Gwangjin. She doesn’t mind settling at the seats in front of the bartender (the nice guy has memorized their usual and serves them complimentary drinks whenever they have lost another battle of snagging a booth), and she would have preferred to sit here if it isn’t for the easy access random strangers have to insert themselves mid-conversation.

Like, rude much? But whatever. Jennie’s used to the bar culture by now.

And just as her every other Saturday night goes, most of these strangers have their eyes locked and set on her gorgeous next-door neighbor, Bae Irene.

Jennie harbors no envious feelings towards her friend (she has her fair share of onlookers, thank you very much), not when gorgeous hardly scrapes the surface in describing the beauty Irene has been graciously blessed with. Even Jennie has had the wind knocked out of her upon meeting her a year ago (she then asked herself how unreal does this person have to be). There’s no denying in the power Irene’s striking features have on passersby, like there’s a magnetic pull luring them to the empty seat next to the twenty-seven year-old.

It’s always a spectacle to behold, witnessing their fellow patron—a man in this instance—boldly engaging with the ever so accommodating but passive woman who Jennie hopes would properly give him a time of day. The younger brunette has been tipping her glass of gin and tonic in her hand, watching the ice melt and blend with the rest of her drink, acting as if she hasn’t been eavesdropping on the guy telling Irene enthusiastically about the promotion he’s had at his new job (a wrong move by the way, since they’re here to pretend that their work lives cease to exist). He must have thought his loaded bank account would have her neighbor put her guard down and cling to his arm.

Ten minutes have passed from his arrival, and Jennie glances at him from her peripheral. Seated two seats away from her, the guy is surprisingly handsome, clean shaven and presentable, a solid ten in her book. He’s got this killer pearly-white smile and is devoted to the woman beside him. But the mention of his job and money-making skills did reduce his overall score, though he’s an impartial candidate apart from his aforementioned oversight. Unlike most eager men, he maintains Irene’s personal space, putting the appropriate distance between acquaintances, so Jennie bumps him up a point.

She shifts her gaze to Irene’s side profile, half of the older woman’s features still not betraying a hint of interest, yet she nods and mumbles words of affirmation at the man’s sentences. Her sitting position obscures Jennie from being able to fully see her expression, leaving the younger woman to decode the situation through the snippets of her responses.

Jennie takes a second to order another drink to replace her empty glass, only turning in her seat to find the man gone, and Irene, whose body is now facing her, helping herself with her margarita.

“Really? Him too?” Jennie lets the disappointment tide in her tone. After a year of knowing her next-door neighbor, she shouldn’t be surprised. Getting Irene to finally date is a hopeless cause. It doesn’t stop Jennie from hoping this night could be any different.

Irene downs the contents of her drink and scoffs. She swipes the bits of liquor below her lips with her thumb, then narrows her eyes at Jennie.

“Prettiest woman I’ve seen tonight is something I’ve heard one too many,” she drones, obviously unimpressed by the recycled pick-up line. She sets her glass firm on the counter.

Something behind Jennie causes Irene to quirk an eyebrow, but the younger woman dismisses it, focusing on important matters rather than the insignificant people around them.

“Okay, but you’re going to cave in to one of them someday, right?”

“Don’t know, don’t particularly care. I’m not interested.”

“When are you ever,” Jennie mutters the words as more of a statement than a rhetorical question. Based on the previous interactions with both male and female species, the chances of her neighbor getting wooed until her bones grow weak is slim to none. In fact, she couldn’t recall to a time when Irene had given an ounce of interest. “Unnie. Your romantic life is none of my business, but it seriously wouldn’t hurt if you—”

“Incoming drunkie at six o’clock.”

The steel legs of the barstool drag against the floor, and before Jennie could protest at Irene for the petty punishment on broaching the topic of her dating life, the older woman already has her feet planted on the floor. The younger brunette would have followed her, but with no one else watching over their tab, Jennie relents dejectedly.

So Irene struts away smugly, probably to the toilets or to wherever she feels like escaping from Jennie’s grilling, leaving a trail of dazzled patrons giving her a double-take at the sway of her hips. She pretty much does whatever she wants with little to no explanation, such as leaving her seat whenever she’s in no mood to discuss about something. Jennie doesn’t take offense to it. It’s a part of the strong independent woman she’s got going on, never bending over backwards for anyone who isn’t deemed relevant in her life (Jennie isn’t actually irrelevant, Irene just has a knack for pissing her off once in a while) and does everything according to her volition.

As Irene disappears from Jennie’s line of sight, said drunkie appears, sloppily plopping onto the chair her friend has vacated and leans one side of her body against the edge of the counter. Her messed up cropped brown hair and lazy half-smile indicates she has filled her alcohol quota for today.

“Hi,” the drunkie greets her with her half-lidded eyes.

“Hey,” Jennie greets back monotonously.

“Mind if I sit here?”

This drunkie is apparently polite.

“Can’t do much about it if you’re already there,” Jennie says coolly, sloshing her gin and tonic around the glass before taking a sip.

The unwanted company would have made her uneasy elsewhere, but worries of harassment and persistent drunks are close to non-existent at this bar, considering its reputation for prioritizing the safety of their customers. It’s the main reason why they have chosen the place to be their Saturday night hang-out spot. The drinks aren’t overpriced, the chill ambience is a great stress reliever, plus the bartenders are total gentlemen.

Her slight disinterest must have caught the person beside her because the drunkie pipes up, snapping Jennie to face her once more instead of staring at her drink like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Don’t worry,” the drunken woman slurs her reassurance, increasing the volume of her voice to compete against the thumping R&B music. Totally unnecessary when Jennie can still hear her fine. The drunkie goes, “I have a girlfriend.”

“And so do I.”

“Well, where is she then? Leaving you all alone in this place with sticky sweaty people.”

Jennie rolls her eyes. “It’s you, you .”

“Oh.”

The information gives Lisa a moment of clarity, the reminder clearing the vapor from her distorted memory. She blinks hard, sort of like rebooting the system in her brain responsible for remembering crucial details about herself such as the identity of her own girlfriend, nodding once, then twice, then mumbles, “Right, right. Worry not then, girlfriend, I shall now whisk you away from the prying eyes of that creeper few seats back.”

Jennie furrows her brows. She glances over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of a concerned staff.

The guy subtly mouths to her if she wishes to have the supposed drunk stranger escorted out, and she has to suppress the urge of another eyeroll at her girlfriend’s stupidity. She clears the misunderstanding with a shake of