better written than thoughts//one-shots//discontinued

[gx] meet ups

meet ups

You were dancing by yourself that night. Two days after Christmas, two days after heartbreak.

You were wondering how the hell you got into a club underage. You were only 17.

You were wondering how long it went on.  How long him and that girl had been together. It was painful to hear those words. All you could do was listen and keep up your strong image. You won't cry. You never have and you never will.

But you needed to. You desperately choked back every single tear that had threatened to spill.

Michael. Oh darling Michael. The guy you thought you could trust. Until he fell in love with someone else other than you. So that Christmas Day, he told you he met someone else to fulfill his romantic needs. And it was over. You were alone once again. After six months, being alone was strange.

You went to a club, even though you were underage. You danced amongst adults. You breathed in the alcohol reeking, smoke filled air. You let the loud beat-filled music take over your heartbeat.

You were alone.

🔆

"Nico. They want to start now. They're getting impatient."

"Let them wait," he glanced around the crowded grounds, finding nothing of interest.

"But-"

"If they won't wait, let them leave. You know I don't really care." For a small moment, he looked back at the men in suits angrily waiting for a deal to be made.

He turned back, once again, finding nothing seeming excit-

"Jacob." He called, "The one with the red jacket on. [H/C] hair? Call her up."

"But what about the-" Jacob was stopped by a glare from his boss. He nodded and left to go downstairs to get the girl.

A minute later, you walked up beside the unknown suited man with a spoon hidden inside your pocket, for protection.

You didn't know how it happened. You were dancing, some guy comes up to you and says you've been invited upstairs. Some drunk girl asks if she can tag along and gets rejected. You knew every club had an "upstairs". A place that was invite-only, VIP-only. You weren't VIP, you were underage. Were you in trouble?

"Why am I up here?" You asked, unamused. You scanned the room. All men, around ten of them. But they weren't of the same clique. There was one man by the balcony railings, who seemed to be in charge of at least four of them. And another, much older than the other, leading over the other three.

The older man, in a deep violet suit, spotted you, "Who is this?" With no answer from anyone, and you not willing to share your name with strangers, he asked again, more agitatedly, "Who the heck is this girl?!"

The other one, by the railing, didn't bother to look back. "Mr. N, who the hell is this girl and why is she here?!"

"I'd like to know why I'm here to," you spoke up. 'Mr. N' finally looked to meet your eyes. He smiled, from a distance it seemed like a normal smile, welcoming, nice.

"Jacob, have her seated." On cue, the man beside you took your hand and gently led you to a red velvet couch nearby. Mr. N followed close by and sat beside you, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

"Shall we begin, Martin?" He asked the other man. Martin, the older man, angrily walked to the the couch opposite to them. He snapped his fingers to his lackeys and they brought out a black suitcase.

"Martin, you've proposed a certain amount of money," Mr. N opened a bottle of some sort of alcohol and poured it into two clear glasses. He handed one to Martin, "for quite a lot of territory. The amount you've proposed, isn't enough for what you asked for."

"This is like a safety deposit. I'll get you the rest, how much ever you want, later." Martin took a sip of the drink. He looked like he was lying. Well you thought so. You didn't know what this Mr. N fellow was thinking.

"How much is this?" Mr. N asked. Martin was about to answer, but Jacob, the man who brought you in, spoke, "Five hundred grand." Mr. N chuckled lightly. Then he looked at you, "He's asking for territory, the area from the West bridge to the smaller park near that tiny supermarket. What do you think?"

You took time to process it, surprised he was asking you, and surprised at how much the guy was offering. Your business skills were kicking in, the skills you picked up being a member of the Mae family.

"500G for that big of a territory is too small, even for a safety deposit," you finally said. Mr. N's eyes lit up at your answer. He smiled and turned to Martin, "No deal."

Martin shot up, "What do you mean 'no deal'? This is nothing compared to how much I'll pay you after I get the place! I promise!"

"You sound so desperate, makes me wonder if you even have that money," Mr. N elegantly sipped from his glass. You stared in awe. He looked young, a little older than you, but not too old, like he was in his early twenties. His brown hair seemed to be lighter when the light caught it. He had deep blue eyes and a sharp form.

"I have plenty-"

"Get them out. They have nothing to offer." Mr. N then turned to face you. He put out his hand, "Nico, pleasure to meet you." You carefully took his hand. "Care for a drink?"

"Anything that comes from your hand is probably drugged. No thanks," You scrunched your nose. He laughed, "How about some bottled water. Trust me, I'll open a new bottle right in front of you." Jacob brought a chilled bottle of water and Nico opened it. He looked to you or your answer, you shrugged.

"So..."

"[Y/N]."

"So [Y/N], you definitely look underage. What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You're doing illegal stuff, I'm underage. Let's keep it a secret," you smirked. He scoffed, "Who said I'm doing illegal things?"

"I'm not stupid, you twat," you checked your phone for the time. You need to leave before your brothers get home.

"Need to be somewhere?" He was watching you intently, he didn't take his eyes off you. You nodded, stood up and thanked him.

"See you around then, [Y/N]," He smiled. The same smile he gave you when you entered, it was a genuinely nice smile. It was a perfectly normal smile.

"Yeah, you too," you knew it was highly unlikely to see this guy again. So you said it out of decency.

You walked out without a clue in the world, that he would remember you.

-fin-
a/n. yo yo honey singh. lmao. anyways, here ya go I think this is the eighth one. I feel like this is a cliche, i lowkey know this is a cliche but like...fuck it.
anyways bye brois.
[H/C] - hair color