Wild Smoke

13. Real

Seokjin

Sweet. Real fucking sweet.

I scoff indignantly, smoke from my mouth flowing upwards in the sky. Up. Up. Up.

I start laughing, my senses swirling in a mist of incredulity. A perfect mismatch.

She makes me high on everything, anything.

My sweet little vixen.

I like that she makes me lose myself and at the same time, makes me feel in control of her. A bloody perfect mismatch.

"Must have been one heck of a dinner?" Hoseok was sitting across me, a glass of dried scotch in his hand.

We were in my father's jazz club-or more like a high end stripper's party.

Two skinny girls were going at it on one pole, dancing right in front of us, giving us a hot private dance. Their sexy legs were wrapped around each other, their asses jutting out, bodies moving in an undulating rhythm.

Any other day, I would have called them over here and told them to suck me off. But no. Not fucking today.

I looked at him and started chuckling. My senses were in overdrive and I was finding something so amusing.

"Bloody fuck of a dinner," I took a sip of my whiskey, relishing that all too familiar bitter taste. "And tell them to fuck off." I pointed at the dancing girls, giving them a long final look.

Hoseok looked at me, his eyes, sombre and quiet. He slowly sipped his scotch and signalled for the bar boy to take the girls away.

"Taehyung must have enjoyed it," he spoke. "Afterall, the long leg diva finally made a surprising entrance."

I scoffed. "Tell me about it. She was all wet for me. Poor Taehyung didn't have a chance. She must have been disappointed when I left."

"You know I don't like it when you talk of him like that."

"Me neither. But I don't care what his ass thinks of me because he never, for the life of god, finds anything wrong with me!" I shouted, my voice slurring at the end and my hands were shaking.

"This isn't something new," I spoke quietly. My body was exhausted. There was this weird irritation crawling within me.

No booze or shit was helping.

"If Taehyung saw me butchering his pet dog, right in front of his eyes," I stilled my eyes at him and took a long drag of my cigarette, blowing out smoke from the corner of my mouth just the way I like it. "He would blame the fucking dog for coming under my knife."

My friend was one funny guy. He spilled his drink on his pants but never budged his stare from mine.

Typical Hoseok.

"Is it weird that I know that?" He asks with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Nope." I clicked my tongue. "Not at all."

It was quiet between us again. A nice comfortable silence. The only sound was the low music drifting in the room and the occasional clinks of ice in our glasses.

"You talked to him in the morning," I said to Hoseok, talking about Taehyung. "Why did he come here?"

"I asked him. He was vague. Just told me that he missed you."

I scoffed. Trying to be a smooth motherfucker, huh?

"I think he knows, hyung. Or, most probably, strongly suspects." He was right in his doubts. Hoseok's intuitions rarely fail.

"I'm not even surprised, man." I crush the burning end of my cigarette in the already overflowing ashtray and sniff out a stripe of cocaine, laid in a perfect line on the table. "Atleast, not since he saw me kill his father that one night."