Yatch Party

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It's almost six when the group disperses at the yatch crew's half an hour docking notice. Gun catches Off in the hallway and pulls him in a corner.

"So what did you get?"

Off shrugs. "Nothing."

Gun glares at him. "I'm sure. You were too busy with your friends, after all."

"He noticed, alright! He just did nothing."

"Yeah, what did you expect me to do anyway? Square you up like an angry bitch?" New appears from nowhere and makes the two jump.

"P'New! I can explain!"

New sports an amused smile. "I know you've been experimenting on me, but honestly. It's easier to just come and ask me, Nong Gun."

"Sorry. But playing detective is more fun." Gun pulls up his most innocent smile. Of his partner in crime's lack of decency, Off facepalms himself.

New flicks Gun's forehead in response. "I don't like it. You're being too chummy with my Te. Is that what you want to hear?"

Gun looks up to New, eyes twinkling. "Is it true?"

"Yeah, wanna hear about my dad's biggest client's daughter a.k.a. my gf, too, while you're at it?"

"Whoa, dude. TMI." Off shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

"I'm all ears!" A pause, then Gun eyes Off, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere than where he is right now. Understandable, since he's closer to Tay than New. Not wanting to put him in a difficult position any longer, Gun squeezes Off's arm and sends him away, "I'll see you in my room, Papii."

Off looks beyond relieved. "Good idea. Then, see you there!"

"Aw, leaving already?" New laughs as Off hurriedly flees the scene.

*

In the end, Gun never went back to his room. Off waits around for about half an hour before giving up and hitting the party by himself. It's basically the same yatch they're on all day, just docking all night on the city's port. With kitchen and bar all stuffed, lounge fully decorated, a live band equipment on top of makeshift stage, and enough staffs to cater to everyone, it's a full-on party—the gang's gift for Singto and Krist.

Off drinks some glasses and greets some friends, trying to busy himself to no avail. He's getting bored in no time. And restless, damn Gun. The girls he used to use as favorite pastimes, now just look shallow, as his mind stubbornly repeats Gun's words in his head.

They only see you as a trophy, nothing more.

Damn that brat for bursting his bubble. Not that he's not grateful.

After what feels like an eternity, Gun sends Off a text to meet him by the bar. Halfway there he catches sight of Gun, and his satisfied smile—of the party he promised of—catches him off guard.

"Enjoying yourself?" Off chuckles.

"Papii!" Gun jumps a little in his high chair, out of habit lowering his cap to further hide his face. "Yeah, yatch party never fails me."

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