minho

The room smelled of weed and the fumes of the drug addicts hanging out there. The so-called get-together was going well. Everyone was ours... More precisely, probably.
I feel like I just watched Hyunjin try to convince the couch he's a dolphin, and Changbin try to put a flowerpot on his head for some reason. All this accompanied by a bass line that throbs in your temples, like the heart of the world has gone mad. The air is thick as syrup, and smells of something sweet, bitter, and very, very far from reality.

Minho pushes off the wall, taking a step that feels like walking on jelly, and his gaze, clouded but strangely piercing, finds Jisung among the flickering, blurry silhouettes. He squints slightly, trying to make him out.

"Hey…
The voice is hoarse, the words are drawn out.
You... who are you? I think I know everyone here... or at least I thought I did. You don't look like someone who just came in for some salt. The corner of her lips twitched in a strange half-smile.
So, are you my new personal glitch, just for tonight? Or am I still able to distinguish reality from... well, from all this other stuff that's going on here?