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Their breakup hadn't been amiable, to say the least. It had ended explosively, with tears staining both of their eyes, and the looming threat that they would never see each other again had hung heavily in the atmosphere. Eventually, the tension had been intensified by the blaring of Zen’s cell phone, with the clairvoyant name of “Kyungju” splayed across it.
For a moment, the two were interlocked in a fierce glaring session, with Zen eventually averting his gaze from (MC). The victory was bittersweet as (MC) gestured towards his phone, signaling for him to answer it. When he made no move to obey her, (MC) snatched the expensive case, gripping it so hard she smeared the display.
(MC) snapped out of her daydream, regaining her bearings, if only for a moment to see where she was. Jumin had returned to his seat, his gaze lingering on a certain white haired degenerate across the room, who had returned to idly sipping liquor. Her smile wavered as she turned her head away from the gorgeous man, opting instead to stare at the coaster of her strawberry daiquiri he had graciously offered to pay for.
As woman after woman approached him, their perfume as strong as bleach and ten times as potent, (MC) watched dejectedly as he flirted with all of them. The slim fingers that played the piano so well were often seen caressing their faces, their painted lips, until the female was so enamored that they practically swooned. It only made the unbridled shock that crossed their dramatically altered faces more enjoyable to watch as Zen ushered every single one of them away, murmuring something about a beast. It was an act that (MC) had experienced first hand, something that Zen did whenever the woman he was humoring wasn't up to his ludicrously high standards. He'd attempted to explain it to her once, but the pure narcissistic quality to his words had (MC)’s attention faltering from the very beginning.
(MC) barely registered Jumin’s harried movements, having spotted his father in the midst of the crowd. She nodded absentmindedly at his hurried apology, her attention entirely captivated by the woman who had practically been giving Zen a lap dance, her hips gyrating and swinging against his.
“What's a beautiful woman like yourself doing all alone?” (MC) looked up just in time to stop the shot glass the man had slid to her from teetering off the edge. When the crisis was averted, she smiled timidly at her suitor, finally raising her eyes to meet his.
He wasn't bad looking, per se, but then again, she wasn't the most attractive in her current state. He was tall, that was a plus, she supposed, with broad shoulders and dark hair that flopped lazily in front of his eyes. No, not bad at all. (MC)’s gaze flitted between the alcohol he had graciously given her, and the expression on his face. For a moment, (MC) hesitated, the agony of the disconnect between her and Zen still tormenting her. Her grip tightened on the shot glass, and with one fell swoop, she downed the entire thing. (MC) grimaced at the initial salty taste, surprised that it was so flavorful for what she had presumed was a shot of vodka.
“I could say the same for you,” (MC) said, her tone coquettish and coy. The alcohol had, at least momentarily, rendered her inhibitions null. “What's a gorgeous man like yourself doing all alone?”
“Attempting to court a gorgeous woman,” he answered smoothly, raising his eyebrows as he sipped his drink. “You still haven't answered my question, though.”
The two settled into an easy conversation, the small talk enough to ease (MC) into the proposition that she might get laid tonight. It was enough that she was distracted from the increasing numbness in her body, in the difficulty to procure enough energy to move. Approximately twenty minutes of idle small talk passed, and by now, it was impossible to disregard her stiff muscles, rendering her speechless. When (MC) opened her mouth to inquire about it, her words came out slurred and sleepy, which were immediately followed by a lecherous grin by her suitor.
He took three fluid steps towards her, hoisting her onto his shoulder with practiced ease. (MC) pounded at the small of his back weakly, her body betraying her mind as small, imperceptible blows landed against him. She was going to be raped, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The realization astounded her, and her body slumped helplessly as her soon to be rapist headed towards the door.
“What are you doing with her?” Zen’s baritone resonated in (MC)’s muddled mind, causing her eyes to lift towards the sight of him. He was as beautiful as ever, even more so in the dim light of the bar. (MC) watched as Zen took another step towards him, his eyes narrowing. “I asked you a question, buddy. What. Are. You. Doing. With. Her?”
Her assailant froze, backing away from Zen’s imposing figure. “There's no need to get nasty, pal, I'm just taking her home. She's drunk as fuck, you see? Not in her right mind.”
For a split second, Zen seemed to believe him, before his eyes flitted to (MC)’s petrified expression, her lips mouthing out the word, ‘help’. Zen approached her suitor, punching him square in the face. For such a delicate looking man, Zen could pack a punch, and the expensive rings scraped the scruff of stubble along her would be rapist. That one punch was enough to incapacitate him, his grip loosening enough so that (Name) could slip out. Her movements were drunken as she seeked out Zen’s embrace. Zen, however, continued to beat him up, until her would be rapist was slumped in a corner.
Through her bleary vision, she could see Zen whisper in his ear, repeating himself until her suitor nodded. When they came to an agreement, Zen sashayed back to (MC) amidst the stares, gently hoisting her to her feet and leading her to his car, unhindered. Her muddled mind could barely recognize that she was safe, and in a car that she vowed she’d never see the inside of again. From her peripheral, (MC) saw Zen make the attempt to drive, mumbling something about how they’d have to talk in the morning before crawling in the passenger seat blearily. That was something they could agree on, at least. They certainly need to talk.