Ugh.

Going to a party, in a bar with Klavier, your boyfriend, didn’t feel like it was right. Hell, it didn’t even feel like he was yours the whole time.

“Ladies, ladies, one at a time~” he teased with a flirtatious tone. He used the same one with you—always. What, are you not that special for him to divide a part of himself that was only for you? Seems not.

You sat there with a glass of wine in your hand, mindlessly twirling the glass as you stared intensely at his every move. You saw it. You witnessed it all. And you still didn’t move from your seat. You were practically just restraining yourself from dragging him out of this shitty excuse of a party when everyone was all over your boyfriend—mind you, he didn’t do anything to stop them. Instead, he pleased them.

He swore he would stay by your side the whole time, but the moment you finally caught a glance of him (who was sitting in another table)—he was covered in lipstick stains all over. Hands, everywhere. And he was acting like he liked it! Was he even acting anymore?! Stains were everywhere but his lips.

I mean, those were only for you.

Probably.

Anyone in the room could see the jealousy and the rage you felt at the moment. If they even tried to pay attention, which no one did. Because they were focused on your BOYFRIEND.

The more you drink, the more you forget. Actually, no—it’s the more you feel jealous, yes.

He’s supposed to be yours.

So prove it to the world.