𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨 - 𝐤.𝐦. & 𝐩.𝐣.

one

As the dulcet tones of George McCrae's 'Rock Your Baby' ring out from the crackling wall speakers above his head, Jinwoo wonders where he went wrong with this evening. Could it have been matching his brown jacket with white shoes? Or maybe the styling of his hair (Minhyuk stated that less may really be more when it comes to using gel on poorly bleached hair, but Jinwoo was stubborn, and Minhyuk was a child, so what did he know)?

Glancing down at his half-empty plastic cup, Jinwoo concludes that it isn't either of those things. It's just him.

Nancy is a traditionally pretty girl, ivory complexion complemented by flowing raven locks and eyes a sparkling emerald green. Perhaps that is the main issue; she's too pretty for Jinwoo, even with his best silk shirt on and chunky rings around his small fingers. Her personality is warm and bright, like the air on a summer's afternoon, and Jinwoo is sure that her positive traits don't stop there.

Contrastingly — after a self deprecating scan of his face reflecting in the non-alcoholic punch in front of him — Jinwoo confirms that he is none of those things. He's short (or petite, as his mom would tell him, fingers coming up to pinch at his cheeks condescendingly), with darker skin and even darker irises. He laughs too much and his eyes scrunch up in ways that aren't attractive, and it makes complete sense to him as to why Nancy is now wrapping her arms delicately around a taller, broader brunette man at the opposite end of the room.

Discos are supposed to be fun, but right now, Jinwoo wants hell fire to rain down on the entire place and burn it to the ground.

Picking up the ladle to the punch and depositing some more of it into his cup, the unnatural blonde pouts. It's childish, and he's sure if Minhyuk were here they would be clowning him for it, but it's all he wants to do. He is an adult, so if he wants to sulk, he will sulk, no matter the time or place.

The overbearing sour of peach permeates his taste buds, but before he can have another moment of self-loathing, there's a loud shout from the dancefloor and a flurry of people coming his way. To begin with, Jinwoo thinks something has gotten out of hand, a few too many drinks from the other punch bowl combined with not enough tolerance, but then he sees it.

Or, more accurately, he sees him.

Blonde hair, a shade or two deeper and ashier than his own, vigorously being shaken from side to side, up & down. To those with eyes, it is clear that the hair is attached to a male — short, with stature not much dissimilar to Jinwoo's own — and in some sort of odd way, it seems like the male is dancing. Or, at least, trying his damnedest to do so.

"He does this every Thursday night; he's the resident lunatic," comes a detached voice from over Jinwoo's left shoulder.

He peeks an eye, notices it's none other than one of his AWOL best friends, and shrugs him away. He's not in the mood for even more traitors after being ditched by his date. "Lunatic or not, he's having more fun than I am right now. Props to him."

There's a hand on his shoulder now, and Jinwoo prepares for Dongmin's parental speech (which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't what should be the most grating currently, but it seems to be anyway) that he gets every time he shows even a little disdain towards himself.

"Are you seriously wishing yourself to be in his position right now?" As Dongmin speaks, the male on the dancefloor gives a particularly exaggerated twist of his hips, and goes tumbling sideways. He almost barrels straight into the jukebox, but manages to steady himself, giggling throughout. A newborn giraffe with extreme instability. "He's crazy; you're not. Just because Madi ditched you for some good-looking British guy, doesn't mean you need to hate on yourself this much, hyung."