Motherload ~•°GOT7 Choi Youngjae°•~

~°•{3}•°~

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Oddly enough I guess Mark had stayed true to his word and guarded the bathroom with his life, considering I didn't even hear voices outside of the silent bathroom, the soft sprinkling of the shower the only sound inside versus the music blasting from the speakers outside. It's out of character for me to just trust some random guy to stand lookout while I wash my ass in a total stranger's very much occupied home but desperate times and all that.

"Mark?" After drying off and staring at myself in the mirror for six minutes I threw my pants back on and one of the smaller black t-shirts- forgetting all about the pasties and the tube top I'd been wearing earlier that I'd left to dry on the counter- before I unlocked the door and peaked out of the bathroom, looking both ways in search of the cheesy blond fish enthusiast but coming up short.

"Damn it," I muttered, slinking back into the bathroom and shutting the door just when I felt like I made eye contact with someone. I caught sight of a piece of paper on the floor and picked it up, examining.

You can head downstairs if you want, no one is really allowed down there except my sister and a few other trusted friends so no perverts ;) Go through the kitchen towards the right where you'll find a staircase that leads to a reinforced door. You'll need a code for it so text this number and he'll help you out.

Your Knight in Plaid and Skinny Jeans,

Markipoo

....had this man actually written me a letter?

He must be an English or film major cause he could've just knocked and told me through the door. I won't knock him for being considerate, though- that would've been a lot of information to retain at once if he was in a hurry.

I folded the note up, shoved the paper into my pocket and exited the bathroom to the unnecessary sight of the grossest three way kiss I would've been just fine with going my whole life never having to witness and the largest smoke cloud I could've gone my whole life without inhaling that came from the opposite side. One of the girls in the sloppy frenchie looked familiar, we probably had a class or two together.

But like, what the fuck is a party these days, sometimes I wished I was living in the eighties or nineties (ignoring the fact that they paved the way for this kind of thing). Maybe I should just become an actor so I can simulate these things without having to witness them in the wild.

For some reason, on my probably misguided journey to meet a virtual stranger in what he claimed to be a "pervert-free" space, I curiously glanced back at the bathroom as I approached the kitchen and noticed the neon light flashing above the door that said "FUCK OFF" in red.

Interesting.

A dodge here and a "not interested" there and I went through the kitchen to make it down two flights of stairs where I was told to go- where oddly none of the promiscuous partygoers seemed to be lingering. There was a corner at the end of the steps that led to another staircase, which I followed up to the metal door mentioned in the note Mark had left me. It wasn't as disturbing as I thought it'd be- considering it was pastel blue in color with some sort of mural painted over it and a sign that said "QUIET- ARTIST AT WORK" on it- but the fact that it was metal was still strange to me. 

Instead of creeping myself out further I decided to take advantage of the mostly peaceful alone time before I texted Mark and leaned against the wall, whipped out my phone and decided to text my lovely bestie Leslie.

COME FIND ME IM TRYNA GET OUTTA HERE

No response.

That's cool.