yeonjun twirled his glass, the alcohol it contained sloshing against it, forming a miniature whirlpool.

the music blared annoyingly loud, party lights flashing as people danced around the cramped living room of whoever the host was of this forsaken party.

yeonjun was sat on the worn-out couch next to you, looking disdainful as he observed the crowd of people.

“this party’s shit,” he irked, tilting his head. “wish we could dip.”