Kokomo… just had the Beach Boys on and I needed a name. #sorrynotsorry
Glass filled with ice
1.0oz coconut rum
1.0oz white rum
1.0oz Cranberry juice
Shake, do not strain. Add:
2oz of orange juice. Give it 5 seconds to fall to the bottom of the glass to create a layer effect
Top off with Sprite
You were a good girl, at least you always tried to be a decent human being. Everything turned against you, as the dog turned against the master if it mistreats him.
Your clothes were still moist because of the rain and the dirty puddle, your apartment was off limits because two people were having sex behind your back and all your belongings now disappeared because they were in the bag stolen half an hour earlier.
Your ears stood in recognizing that voice, but you remained in your fetal position leaning against the wall of that stinking alley. You didn’t want to deal with Yoongi because you already had too many problems to think about.
“Go away, Yoongi.” You groaned and forcefully pressed your forehead against your arms, bend your head against your knees. If the willpower to disappear had been useful, you would have already had to be on a tropical island to sip alcoholic cocktails from a coconut. But no, you found yourself trapped in an alley with Min Yoongi, the guy who feared nothing but that everyone feared, who kept calling your name for more than five minutes.
“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, I DON’T NEED ANYTHING. NOW LEAVE!” You finally raised your head, the dry tears on your cheeks, your eyes injected with blood and swollen, a splash of mud on the tips of your hair. You weren’t the best show but Yoongi was in front of you, standing, the cigarette between his lips and his usual emotionless look displaced onto his face.
“I’ve never heard you scream or use profanity, what a news.”
“I don’t need your sarcasm.”
“Yah, who did this to you?” He asked you pointing with his finger. You avoided answering, you weren’t friends but simply acquaintances because of your shared friendships. You knew he had bent towards the ground because you managed to feel his breath against your hair.
You always thought it would smell like tobacco, maybe some pinch of mint because you always saw him nibbling chewing gum if he didn’t have the cigarette between his lips. But when you raised your head to make sure if he really was so close, his breath stroked your lips and a scent of cinnamon will pinch your nostrils. Cinnamon? Min Yoongi associated with a similar scent, it was odd to you.
“Why are you so close?”
“Because you’re a disaster.”
“Oh thanks,” you pointed out and he snorted, the dangling cigarette moved dangerously between his thin but full lips. You and Yoongi were two different worlds. He was a racer of illegal car racing, he smoked, had a small gang in the district of Gangnam and you knew that he didn’t go slow with the girls. You were the opposite, the total opposite.
“So what happened? ”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I’m the only jerk that’s asking you because there is no one else that will do it since you are a pain in the ass” he hissed and in other contexts, his answer would hurt you, but now you were so destroyed by that day that you didn’t even care.
“It’s a long story Yoongi.. I don’t want to tell you.. ” Your voice broke on the last words, your desire to vent everything out was so much, but you didn’t want to burden him.
“Come on Y/N, you need a shower and clean clothes.”
He stood up and lowered his gaze towards you, waiting for you to move.
“N-No.. I’m fine here, I’m going home soon. ”
“At home there are your boyfriend and your best friend, they’re having sex otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
Everyone knew it except you. You felt stupid and the tears began to slide along your cheeks, wetting your lips and letting you savor the salty of them. “Go away, Y-Yoongi..”
“Fuck, I’m trying to help you Y/N.”
Suddenly a pair of hands rested under your arms and lifted you. You didn’t scream, you didn’t protest, the forces drained by the pain that had begun to flourish within you.
“Don’t cry” his rough voice ordered and after slipping his hands on your face, he wiped your cheeks rudely but looking at you with what seemed to be sorrow. His eyes were so impenetrable that you couldn’t understand what he felt, too hidden behind that protection to let penetrate.
“Stop crying, it no uses at all Y/N. He’s a jerk and she’s a who–”
“Whore, you can say it.”
Yoongi watched you stunned, perhaps even struck by your language. In three years that he knew you, he had never heard your mouth to slip words like that, and this made him realize that there was much more about you than he didn’t know.
Smiling, he moved his hand and you watched it with confusion, noticing the rings that adorned his venous and calloused fingers and the tattoo of a dragon that spiraled from the wrist and hid from the sleeve of the jersey.
“Take my hand, I promise you’ll be alright.”
The silence greeted his words and you ignored his hand, but quickly surrounded his neck with his arms and hugged him. You squeezed slowly, hiding your face against his shoulder and the scent of cinnamon pinched your nostrils again but pleasantly. He didn’t spare the hug, but you knew it. He did never hug anyone.
Once you have loosened the grasp of your arms, you took his hand and the first smile of the day drew on your lips.