sin | taelice

12. | messed up

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chapter twelve

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Taehyung didn't go home that night.

Instead, he drove straight to a bar. He drank without saying a word to anyone. He thought about calling Jimin or Jungkook to drink with him, maybe to distract himself—but in the end, he decided against it. Tonight, he wanted to be alone.

His thoughts were a complete mess.

Fucking hell.

How long has it even been? Weeks? A month? He barely knew her, and yet... Lisa had already taken a huge part of him. He didn't even recognize himself anymore.

He used to see himself as someone decent. Perfect, even. He never thought he'd be the type to cheat—especially not on his wife. And yet, here he was, doing the very thing he swore he'd never do.

He kept downing the cocktails the bartender gave him, one after another. Every time his glass emptied, another one was placed in front of him. As he drank, his eyes would go to his phone, again and again, hoping—just hoping—that maybe Lisa would text or call.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Taehyung?" he muttered under his breath, laughing bitterly at himself. He felt pathetic. Sitting in a bar, getting drunk, waiting for a message from a woman who clearly wasn't thinking about him.

Hell.

His head was spinning now. The room around him started to shake and blur, and he hadn't realized how much alcohol he'd consumed. His body was slowly giving up.

"Sir, are you alright? Do you need help?" the bartender asked when Taehyung nearly fell off his stool trying to stand up.

Taehyung waved him off and gave a forced smile. "I'm good. I can handle myself," he slurred, trying to stand again—only to stumble and fall right into the arms of a waitress passing by.

"Man, just take his phone and call someone. He's been drinking like that for hours," the bartender said to the waitress, who looked down and saw his phone on the table—screen still lit up, stuck on the iMessage app. It looked like he'd been waiting for a reply.

"Sir, can you tell me who we can call to pick you up?" the waitress asked, still supporting him.

Taehyung was barely processing her words. He rubbed his forehead, trying to stay awake, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But the dizziness was too strong. Even just opening his eyes felt like his head was exploding.

"...Lisa..."

That was the last word the waitress heard him whisper before he completely collapsed.

"Sir?! Sir?!"

—

Lisa hated Sundays.

She was stuck at home. No shifts at the bar today. In fact, she'd been planning to quit soon—just waiting for the right moment to look for a new job.

She was sipping wine quietly on the couch. Jackson wasn't home either; he said he had to go to Gangnam for something. She didn't ask for details. Frankly, she didn't care.

As she was about to take another sip, her phone buzzed loudly on the table. The name on the screen didn't surprise her.

"V"

Lisa chuckled softly, set her wine glass down, picked up the phone, and answered, "Taehyung?"

But the voice that replied wasn't his.