"God YN. Get a grip." James looks down at me as I drown another shot of vodka. My face rests against the cold countertop as I stare into the distance. Tears streak my face and my nose becomes clogged.

"I can't help it," I slam the small glass on the counter in a mini tantrum. "He barely even looked at me, James! How the hell am I supposed to get a grip?"

He rolls her eyes as he removes the glass from my hands. "Oh, I don't know, get over him already?" He rolls his dark brown eyes. "You've been doing everything you could for the past seven fucking years, YN. That's almost a third of your life. If it hasn't worked yet, it won't work now. Just give it up already."

"But I love him!"

"For fucks' sake! You don't even know him!" James voice raised louder and the bar quieted down just for a second, as if waiting for an even bigger explosion.

The last blow hits hard and ball finally drops. Sobs rip out of my throat and heat rushes to my face. My hands reach to cover my face from curious onlookers. Why do I even bother coming to this bar? I don't even like alcohol. When James' dark hand ruffles my hair, I remember why. The loneliness is too crushing when I think of life without someone like Ackerman.

"What can I get you sir?" I hear the bartender ask.

A man takes a seat beside me. "Scotch."

In a jolt, I look up. Although he has dark black hair and green eyes, he's older, lanky and has a very slight smile. It's not Levi Ackerman. "Ugh."

A finger pokes into my shoulder and begrudgingly, I look up. "I've never seen a woman be so disenchanted when she first lays eyes on me. What's wrong, love?"

My puffy eyes stare at the stranger for a moment. When nothing comes out of my part lips, I drop my head back into my arms. I don't want to talk to strange men at bars. Not right now.

"Oh, don't worry about her," James comments as he places his drink down. "She's had this one-sided love for seven years now and gets like this each time he fails to notice her—so embarrassing! And don't worry, she's only had one drink and continues to be cognizant, whereas I have had several and am one away from making naughty decisions."

"Has it really been seven years?" The stranger talks above my head. "That is sad."

"Seven years." James sighs. "Tonight was the first night that he even looked at her, but even in her DELECTABLE dancing clothes, he just looked right past her."

"Damn."

"Damn indeed."

AN: I imagine James as Ade Adepitan fly as hell lmfao