Kyungsoo’s chest thumps like an internal earthquake is raging inside of his body and his eyes are blind when white hot flashes engulf them. He blinks, because when did he move to the dance floor from his seat in the booth? Everything is hot and sweltering; blobs of multi-colored human shaped masses move in and out of his vision, making his head swim in a sea of endless confusion. With great difficulty, he maneuvers through a plethora nimble feet and smooth limbs, between heated lip locks and sultry gazes.

He checks his watch and it’s almost a quarter until three in the morning.

He can feel the frenzied energy coming from the shapes around him. They move like fish in a pond, fluid and graceful and full of twists and turns. At random intervals he gets pulled into dances which involve a lot of hip movement, and maybe after he can’t find his phone in his pocket, but he’s too far gone too care. He worries over the fact that he doesn’t care since his phone was the only connection to his boyfriend.

Men and woman send him stares of hidden desires and barely concealed lust. It’s due to the fact that he can hardly manage anything other than stumble around awkwardly he doesn’t notice the pair of dark eyes that follow him, and moments later when they’re accompanied by a lean body that weaves into the crowd with seemingly practiced ease.

The song changes into something more dark and dirty. The heavy bass is replaced with a beguiling voice that haunts him in the back of his mind, resembling a hypnotizing viper controlled by a crazed shaman. Spider-like shocks run up and down his sides as his body tingles with unplaced excitement.

A rough hand sidles itself down his arm, snatching his wrist and pulling him away. His steps are uncoordinated and messy; a nasty result of vodka and brightly colored juices. He feels the foreign sweat clinging onto his skin, and how his eyes are barely able to keep open. How he’s capable of not toppling over right now is a miracle itself and he would applaud himself except for the fact he’s being pushed and pulled around. His brain doesn’t register the change of scenery of flashing strobe lights and heavy bass to cool night air and rocky hard gravel.

A buzzing in his ear keeps annoying him, like a small fly on a warm summer sunset. He’d be leaning against something bony but soft, and he notices it’s warm and moving. Thick fingers play the piano on his waist, digits pressing sensually against the thin material of his t-shirt like a bee hovering above honey flowers. His eyes are lead as sleep tickles his mind while his sub-conscious is trying to tell him to stop his struggling and follow whoever had the grip on his arm.

After what seemed like a century, the stranger pushes him into the wall of an alley way. They were ways from the club and that fact causes him to shake his head from the harsh grip of drunkenness. Dirty blocks of brick press indentions into his back and his hands get caught between himself and the wall. He looks up and sees sultry eyes gazing intently at him.

He croaks out, “Who are you?” He can’t recall what mussed up brown hair and lusty eyes meant to him, or the lustrous gold ring adorning thick fingers.

The night air answers him. He groans as his head spins and dots litter his visions like trash in the New York City slums. He wants to slide down the wall and nestle his head between his legs because he thinks if he goes on like this, the contents of his stomach will make their home on the alleyway ground.

“Please, my friends are probably starting to worry.” His voice isn’t as strong as he wants it to be, more sounding like he’s chained smoke for five hours straight. Then again, the statement had been false. His friends wouldn’t care until the next morning when they find him missing. But if the white lie could get him out of the situation on hand, he’s all too willing.

An all too familiar hand runs a soft trail down the side of his face. It leaves a hot track, burning invisible marks into his cheek. The appendage is tanned, and the fingers are cracked with years of hard labor work. He doesn’t know why, but something sparks in the back of his mind. A firecracker like explosion rings a deafening echo in his head but in the reality outside of his thoughts, everything is still as if time had stopped.

A flash of attractively plump lips blind his eyes before the figure in front of him clears his throat and leans in closely.

“You think you can run away, my little kitten?”

The nickname causes a confusing spike of fear to rise in his body. His arms twitch and his fingers curl themselves unconsciously. He furrows his eyebrows, who was that man? Why did he have such a reaction to him? He couldn’t remember, unable to with the alcohol running tracks in his bloodstream.

“Who…are you?” He whispers one more time. His instincts are telling him to run, leave, and get his out of there. But his legs stay rooted to the ground as if he were a tree.

The man in front of him chuckles, but it only causes the hair at the back of his neck to stand on end. He feels like a deer cornered by a dangerous wolf and instead of being able to run and kick in retaliation, he’s paralyzed.

“I’m hurt,” the man mocks, bringing one of his hands to his chest and puts on a sad font, “after all the times we’ve had and you still feign ignorance?”

When something grasps his waist, he squeaks in terror. Panic wells inside him, his eyes widening. The crooked smile, those dark eyes, the electrifying gaze that sent his nerves haywire, only one person could give him the pure fear running through his head.

“J-Jongin?”

“Looks like the return of evil exes, am I right?” Jongin’s chuckles, breath ghosting near his ear as it sends shivers down his spine.

No, he can’t escape. Not this time.

This is a sequel to my other story, 'Going Crazy'.