Rating: PG-13 for sensuality and kissing!
Warnings: A prequel. Slightly irrelevant, yet not. (:
Summary: They don't remember how they meet at the bar, but I do.
"Well, you didn't expect me to think you weren't easy, did you?"
Donghae stood up so abruptly that the table rocked with the force of his movements, glassware clicking dangerously.
"Fuck you," he said, willing his voice not to tremble and betray the sick feeling of dread and something else that was creeping up on him. He moved back, pushing his chair violently onto the ground and strode out of the restaurant, all too aware of the eyes on him. Eyes that judged, admonished, lusted before they even knew him.
And here I thought that this one just might've been different, Donghae thought to himself bitterly as he strode down the pavement, wrapping his collar tightly around his neck to keep out the cold that descended with the evening air. The frustration and anger hissed and spat within him like water on hot coals, and the dancer continued walking angrily, ignoring the passers-by who shot him curious looks as they walked past, probably to a warm home and a family. To someone who loved them for who they were, someone who was actually interested in love, not a fucking one night stand.
Too soon for his liking, the indignance in Donghae boiled down, and misery set in, self-pity and hopelessness washing over him like a bitterly cold tide. He only ever wanted someone to love, Donghae thought, allowing his lower lip to tremble in the slowly dimming light. Suddenly catching himself, Donghae steeled his expression, angry at himself for being so goddamned stupid and vulnerable, before ducking into the popular bar he always went to just off the shoulder of the road, nearly running into an obese tattoo-ed man who reeked of cheap cigarettes and heavy exhaust. He needed a drink.
Eunhyuk goes to the bar when things get too much, on days when he feels that hollow feeling heavy in the pit of his belly and a sour taste in his throat like life has let him down. Visits to that bar don't necessarily make him feel better, but at least he can nurse a shot, drown himself in too-loud music and liquor that he would regret wasting money on the next day. Nevertheless, drinking dulled the growing ache in his heart, as if something was breaking off from him, painfully crumbling to a lifeless dust. Drink made Eunhyuk pretend he could fix himself, numb his heart to the cruel judgment of the world towards him, his parents, his lifestyle. It made the loneliness seem bearable, even if it was just for that alcoholic moment.
Today, he remembered how his dad - the younger one, came home with a dark bruise on his collarbone, and how his other dad - the older one, seemed to tremble when he brushed his fingers against his spouse's cheek gently. Both their eyes shone with unshed tears as his second dad collapsed into the arms of the first. Eunhyuk had turned and walked into his room, face expressionless, trying to fight back the bitter tide of hate and anger and frustration that burned inside of him at all of mankind, it's pretense and it's pathetic swipe at humanity.
It was his fourth glass of amber liquid that left a fiery trail down his throat, and Eunhyuk was steadily losing hold of his sense of equilibrium, the room sway gently before him if he held his head still enough. He downed the shot, gasping at the burning sensation, grateful for the sting because it meant he could feel, before lurching dangerously off the bar seat towards the general direction of the dance floor, trying to shake off the heated stares from girls and guys alike. He needed to dance.
He moved fluidly, even as he was intoxicated, and let the music take the reins of his body, puppeteering his limbs and pumping his heart. The shirking of bodily responsibility is welcome, and Eunhyuk's more than happy to just let go, handing all control over to the booze blurring his judgment and music domineering his body. He knows that he's drawing attention, glances that linger too long, stares that trace his entire body as he does that thing with his hips, but Eunhyuk doesn't care, because there isn't anyone he particularly cares enough for to let them know that he sees them.
As he spun around, Eunhyuk became aware, even through the heady liquor-induced fog, of a certain young man's eyes on him. Said man, dark haired and slender limbed, was sitting alone in a booth, dark bottles strewn around him, with intense eyes fixed on Eunhyuk. Their eyes met for a split second, and the redhead shuddered and spun around, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and a rush of blood that had nothing to do with his state of sobriety tinging his face. He was exceedingly aware of that mysterious boy's eyes on him, and it didn't seem to be him that was making his hips swivel that much more sexily. Eunhyuk knew the effect he had on some people, though he never flaunted it, simply revelled in it when it took over, so he wasn't too surprised when he felt a body press itself against his back, hips gyrating smoothly with his, and warmth breath on his ear, making him shudder.
"I don't know you," the man behind Eunhyuk said lowly, his voice sending a small shudder down the length of the redhead's spine. Despite the huskiness of the unfamiliar voice, probably given that particular tinge by one shot too many, Eunhyuk guessed that the unknown brunette must've been around his own age, but he was too far gone to care.
"You must be new around here," Eunhyuk responded, twisting his hips just so, feeling triumphance twist in him as he heard the stranger's breath hitch. Suddenly, he felt strong arms grab him firmly and spin him around, and before he could make even a noise of surprise or protest, he felt his mouth connect firmly with a foreign one, soft lips moving against his own. The redhead feebly tried to struggle, before giving into the assault on his mouth. He was entitled to this, now and then, Eunhyuk told himself as the stranger's mouth alone seemed to ignite deep, white hot sparks in parts of his body he never knew could feel with again. And he quelled the fluttering feeling in his stomach as both of them stumbled off the dance floor into a darkened corner of the room, because people who kissed that way never stuck around after one night. But frankly, just as long as the mysterious boy with sexy eyes kept doing that thing with his tongue, gripping his hips just that way, Eunhyuk couldn't bother to give a damn.
When Eunhyuk wakes up alone in his bed with no indication of anyone ever sleeping next to him, he wonders, as he leans over the toilet bowl and wretches, what he could've done last night to earn him that pair of bruised, reddened lips and that love bite sucked into the shadow of his nape. At the very same time, across miles of asphalt, a boy wakes up on the other side of the small town, wondering the exact same thing.
PREQUEL to this!