hiraeth.

01 do you regret leaving?

[TW] alcohol, marijuana, language, slight angst.

regret always accompanies us.

it doesn't matter who you are, your gender, social standing, age, or race; everyone has regrets.

she keeps her distance, waiting to creep back and remind us of our worst moments. memories better off forgotten, but we can't help but remember and regret.

in the dimly lit club, a certain blond-haired man was drowning in his regrets. the blond was wearing a light white shirt, the lightweight material loose yet clinging to his glistening skin— perks of being in the center of the dance floor.

the man had one goal in mind, find a body, a plan he didn't usually have a hard time accomplishing, but seeing her threw him off.

he couldn't help but scowl when his biggest regret was in front of him, taunting him with the sway of her hips.

the sight of her smiling up at the man next to her triggered the blond's possessiveness, she used to smile at you like that, he knew she wanted to break him like he broke her.

"i do not need you," past regrets echoed through his intoxicated mind, "i never have, and i never will."

"you do not mean that! i know you. you are just scared to open up again. i was too, but please, stay."

the voices of the past were catching up, and he had to get rid of them. the blond left the dance floor and headed for the bar. he didn't care if he was already drunk. constantly unsatisfied, the blond had pushed himself off the edge countless times.

one, "i forgive you."

two, "please, do not leave me."

three, "i love you."

the intoxicated man slammed down three stone-cold stinger shots, better known as liquid cocaine.

slowly the echoes were disappearing, and the blond was able to hear the blasting music of the club again.

"hey," the blond turned to see a woman holding out a blunt to him.

"looks like you need a hit," when the woman saw him hesitate, she rolled her eyes and shoved the blunt into his slender fingers.

"seriously, take it. it's safe without that extra shit laced in it to fuck up the flavor if that's what you're worried about."

the weight and familiarity of the blunt brought the blond comfort, so he inhaled deeply because, in the end, we seek comfort even in the things that destroy us.

"there, that'll take the edge off," the stranger said, "just you wait," she laughed when he handed her back the blunt, coughing harshly.

"just what is in it!" he coughed out, "i've always been—" he couldn't finish his sentence before being cut off by another cough.

"i told you, it's just pure and fresh weed," she dragged in a puff, "it's just powerful. i don't know where my plug gets it, but i ain't complaining," when she released, she didn't cough like the man.

the man knew she was lying. he knew his favorite drug was laced. he couldn't identify what was in it, not that it bothered him; he had tried everything already.

"well, you seem to be doing alright," he complained, tears in his eyes from all the coughing.

"that's because i've been using the same shit for a while now, but it still has a kick every once in a while," she explained, lips quirking up in a smirk.

"fair enough," he bowed, turning around to head back to the dance floor, "thank you."

"hey, my name is soomin" she looked him up and down with a sultry smile, "mind if i join you?"

"no, i do not mind," he replied with a smile of his own. with his invitation, she stood up and took his extended hand.

while keeping a firm grip on soomin and weaving through the crowd would've been difficult for anyone, the blond didn't look it, but he was strong. being a dancer was a requirement for his occupation. he had to keep his body in shape, and he had great upper body strength, so when soomin tripped, he was able to prevent her from falling.

"watch where you're going," he growled into her ear, "and stay close," he commanded, pushing their bodies closer. he started swaying to the music while soomin began grinding on him.

soon enough, the pair found a rhythm, and with the alcohol and drugs mixed in their systems, they got bolder, grinding and feeling each other up.

it wasn't long till the blond started to feel the full effect of the drugs, "i haven't been this crossfaded in a fucking long time."

it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for people to bump into each other, especially in a crowded club. usually, you'd ignore it, but the blond would recognize that voice anywhere.

regret always accompanies us, even in our final moments, as we draw our last breath.

"hoseok."

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