Minho

Minho called at one in the morning.

"Have you seen the time? Why the fuck are you calling?" you muttered into the phone.

"There are reasons for that. Don't you want to go to the club?" a voice interrupted him over the hum of the music. "A taxi will be here in a couple of minutes, I'll meet you at the entrance."

With a sigh, you somehow got ready, put on some baggy jeans and a T-shirt, and headed outside. Half an hour later, you were standing at the entrance to the club, where Minho was waiting for you.

"Finally! Let's go, you're always sitting at home, gloomy," he said, pulling you inside.

The place was unbearably noisy, reeking of alcohol and vibrating with bass. Once at the bar, you knocked back several cocktails, one after another. Your head spun, and the alcohol hit your bloodstream. While Minho retreated to a table with his friends, you headed to the dance floor.

Soon, a pretty girl appeared next to you. Your hands slid over her body, and when she leaned forward and kissed you, you returned the kiss in a drunken stupor.

Minho, who had been watching from the table, instantly changed expression. He quickly made his way through the crowd straight to you. Before you could react, his hand yanked you forcefully by the shirt, yanking you out of the stunned girl's embrace. Minho dragged you to the far sofa and roughly sat you down.

"What happened? I was just having fun!" you protested.

“It’s going to be even more fun now, you piece of idiot,” he snapped.

Minho grabbed a glass bottle of beer from the table and pressed it hard to your lips:

• Drink.

• Fuck, I won't...

A sharp slap stung your cheek. At the same moment, Minho grabbed your chin painfully with his fingers, forcibly tilted your head back, and again forcefully pressed the neck of the bottle to your lips.