The club VIP room breathes with a pulse of its own—low, thrumming, relentless. The music coils through the dim space like something alive, bass vibrating through everything. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and something sweeter beneath it, something that clings to the back of the throat.
I sit on the couch, leaning back, trying to let the noise wash over me, to let it carry me away from myself.
But it doesn't work.
Sum sits across from me, his hair still a little messy from his nap, his hands draped lazily over the back of the couch. A teasing smile curls at the corner of his lips, playful, unbothered, the way he always is when he's trying to pull me out of myself.
"Mr. Charming..." He tilts his head, studying me with those sharp, knowing eyes. "What's wrong?"
I look at him, unimpressed.
"Nothing."
His smirk widens.
"You look like someone who's missing someone."
"Shut up."
