From Zero to a Hundred (HYUNGWONHO)

Chapter 1: 0%

Saturday, 18:12

I really can't help but pity the liquor mart staff eying the three of us skitter around the store from behind the beige counter. For some obtuse reason, Minhyuk and Jooheon insists on purchasing eight bottles of Tequila, seven bottles of Vodka, four bottles of Fireball (disgusting), thirty-six cans of beer, four bottles of whiskey (Canadian, of course) and what appears to be twelve bottles of one litre of Smirnoff Ices, which, to my apparent surprise, is somehow a thing now readily available for unsafe consumption. I'm almost certain you can find the name "Lee Minhyuk"beside the word "excess" in most dictionaries; this boy has never familiarized himself with the meaning of or how to do things in moderation.

"Should we get some Jägermeister too? We can stop by the corner store on the way back to your house to pick up some Redbull. You and Changkyun love Jäger-bombs." Jooheon says.

Minhyuk shakes his head in assurance. "No need. I bought a few bottles and a couple packs of Redbull the other day after work. We should be good for now."

With intense struggle and derisory strength to gain momentum to roll our cart down the aisle, I ask, "Don't you think we have enough? This is a ton of alcohol, you guys. Not to mention this is going to cost a lot."

"Don't worry, it's all on me tonight, remember?" Minhyuk winks. "I'm paying. You guys just have fun tonight, okay?"

Where did all this money originate from? Who knows, really? Minhyuk's parents hold high positions in Samsung and are actively involved in the American Stock market, and, while he's very adamant he doesn't receive any helping hands here and there, I find it quite difficult to believe mommy and daddy don't throw their only and, by default, favorite child a bone or two every so often. But that was simply his upbringing and I can't fault him for it; as ordinary as he thinks himself to be, having billionaire parents is not at all average.

I blink. He always offers to pay, but it still catches me off guard each time. "Well shit, thanks, Minhyuk."

"No matter what, all house parties are always on me." Minhyuk states confidently with an affectionate grin, motioning to the two of use with a bottle of champagne. "Even at your place and your place."

Jooheon looks at me, and shrugs. "Sweet. Thanks, dude. Don't think we'd ever want or ask for this much, though."

Jooheon, on the other hand, is as much of a dear friend as he is an immensely effective enabler, for both Minhyuk and myself. If there is someone who can convince me to do something I typically never would, it's probably because of Jooheon.

Security-staff scrutinize our steadily growing cart with questionable side glances, but none of us are aware enough or care enough to notice or mention it. While Minhyuk and Jooheon do a final lap around the perimeter of the shop, taking their sweet time to peruse and select a diaphanous bottle of wine in elegant packaging and presentation, all the while arguing if it's a white or red they truly want, I half-heartedly trail behind them closely, idly, arms folded against the shopping cart with an indifferent stare, and prolonged yawn. I'm only here because the duo picked me up and dragged me by my ears, forcefully abducting me from my apartment kitchen into the backseat of Minhyuk's hummer. Again, mommy and daddy's money.

As much as I love them, that leftover fried chicken and Thai-style spicy fried rice at home isn't going to reheat and consume itself. Perhaps we'll order pizza and breadsticks again? I pray to whatever deity, benevolent or malevolent, hears my pleas that Minhyuk has some sort of food he'll let me snack on while the three of us decorate and prepare his house in Gangnam. Again , mommy and daddy's money.

Call it intuition, although, I like to refer to it as being friends with Minhyuk and long enough to know better, but I have an uncanny premonition of unsavory occurrences and more bodies crammed into Minhyuk's house than I am personally comfortable being around tonight. The eventual chaos is more than certainly inevitable as tomorrow's hangover and regrettable text messages. Though not by any means a role model or mature, but irrefutably less impetuous and juvenile, there is a very justifiable reason that I hold onto both of their phones when they pass three shots – sometimes two when Jooheon can't tell the difference between a double shot glass from a single shot glass.