◑quatre◐

593 44 3
                                    

"...if the city never sleeps,
then that makes two..."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Jiminie, calm down. This is just a T-shirt--" Hoseok tried to explain, but was once again interrupted.

"More like no-shirt. Did you seriously expect me to go dressed like this?"

Needless to say, Park Jimin was scandalized.

When he'd asked Hoseok to bring him clothes for the party he hadn't meant stripper clothes. He'd meant casual, a bit sexy, but normal clothes.

"I said nothing special, Hoseok. Nothing special." Jimin pointed out sourly, fumbling with the huge v-cut of his T-shirt.

"This is nothing special." His friend insisted "Just a little bit more... provocative, I'll give you that."

Jimin glared at him through the mirror.

"What? This shirt is perfectly casual."

"Well yeah, for sluts, maybe."

"Excuse you?" exclaimed Hoseok, throwing yet another pair of extra skinny jeans at Jimin "I may be a slut, but at least I'm a fashionable one."

Jimin giggled as Hoseok winked at him.

"Come on, we don't have all day! Try these and hurry the fuck up, you midget!"

"Come on, we don't have all day! Try these and hurry the fuck up, you midget!"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

'This was a mistake.'

This was the main thought that occupied Jimin's brain from the moment he stepped into Taehyung's house.

He felt suffocated - the music was too loud, the people too much and it was way too overwhelming for him.

Three people had already hit on him and one girl had drunkenly rubbed herself all over him before turning around and vomiting in a random plant's pot. Jimin had ran off then.

This was way too much for him. He just wanted to go home.

The rooms started making him claustrophobic and the combination of alcohol and vomit smell in the air made him nauseous.

He'd had only one beer, not enough even to get him buzzed.

His friends had long ago ditched him - Namjoon was probably somewhere by himself, finding a philosophical meaning in someone's shoe colour, Yoongi was in a corner, surrounded by a bunch of squeaking girls while he showed off his biceps, Jin was dancing (although he sucked at it) and well, knowing Hoseok, he was probably somewhere skinny dipping.

Jimin just didn't fit in.

He was dying to go home, lay under his warm blanket and watch some drama while eating unholy amounts of popcorn until he fell asleep.

After another hour, one random dude who groped him and another two beers, Jimin finally decided that he was officially done with the party animal life.

He didn't bother to search for his friends - they had probably already passed out somewhere anyway - so he headed straight to the front door.

Just as he was about to get out of this house, of this hell, a figure just next to the door grabbed his wrist, rooting him in place.

Jimin turned around sharply, ready to fucking wreck this person, he didn't care--

"Leaving this early?"

God, he could recognize this voice anywhere.

Jimin gulped, gained all his courage and looked up.

He was met with glassy brown eyes, messy hair and a bunny smile.

playboy | jikookWhere stories live. Discover now