6 :  i n h i b i t i o n

Bright rays of sunlight peeked through the pastel blue curtains of the bedroom, highlighting Donghae's sun-kissed skin. Birds were chirping in the distance, filling the otherwise still air with sounds of nature. Lying face down in the pillow, Donghae managed a groan before turning over. He wanted to sleep for a bit more but the light that illuminated the room was too glaring to ignore. Slowly, Donghae opened his eyes. He squinted and began to analyse his surroundings, none of which was familiar to him. The walls had been painted a soft creamish beige and was decorated with abstract paintings that he couldn't decipher, and the bed he laid in had a tall, wooden post at each corner and a white, flowy fabric draped across the top, hanging down at the sides of the bed, forming a canopy. Where the hell am I, he wondered, massaging his temples in a poor attempt to nurse his throbbing headache. He tried his hardest to recall the misadventures of his previous night; all he could remember was that Kyuhyun was the last person he had been with, and that he may have had one too many drinks. Could it be that he had somehow ended up at the house of another one of his one-night stands? Swallowing, he looked beneath the thick comforter that covered the lower half of his body. He was . Completely . .

Donghae got out of bed, frantic. His clothes had been thrown into a rattan basket on the floor next to the bedroom door, and his shoes and socks were arranged next to the basket neatly. Donghae scrambled to put on his clothes, not wanting to cause a scene. The last thing he wanted was for the owner of the house to catch him as he was leaving; he hated the awkward, forced conversations that preceded the walk of the shame the most. He pulled up his pants and buttoned it before picking up the rest of his clothes, shoes and socks. Then he opened the bedroom door, a mouth-watering scent wafting out the kitchen. Donghae took a few steps forward before something—two things, actually—made him stop dead in his tracks.

"You're awake."

The first thing that had seized any form of urgency to leave the house from Donghae, was the auburn-haired man that had appeared a few feet ahead of him in nothing but a frilly pink apron, and checkered boxers, with a spatula in one hand. The second was the appearance of the living room behind him. Donghae soon realised that he hadn't just woken up at any random stranger's house like he had every other time he'd decided to go intoxicate himself; he had woken up at Hyukjae's, no, their house.

Donghae walked towards the couch and sat down, sinking into the fabric. He slid his arms into his crumpled white dress shirt and buttoned it slowly, still unable to make sense of how he'd ended up here. Hyukjae, who had disappeared into the kitchen, reemerged moments later with a tall stack of pancakes and a jug of orange juice. He set it on the dining table behind the couch before arranging empty plates, glasses and utensils on tablemats for the two of them to have breakfast together.

"Hae," Hyukjae called out gently. "Let's eat."

Buckling his belt, Donghae turned to face Hyukjae, trying as best as he could to hide the embarassment that must've glowed from his face like a hazard light. He stood up and walked towards the dining table, leaving the rest of his things sprawled across the floor in front of the couch. His eyes darted left and right in a desperate attempt to avoid the gaze of auburn-haired Hyukjae.

"Hyukjae ah," Donghae cleared his throat, taking a seat in front of one of the plates that Hyukjae had set, "could you please explain to me how.....how I ended up here?"

Hyukjae froze in the middle of pouring orange juice into the two glasses he'd placed on the table.

"You don't remember," he uttered, deadpan. It was more of a statement than a question, to be honest.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Donghae reached out, taking the jug of orange juice from Hyukjae's hands. He was sure that if he hadn't done so the man would've just kept on pouring, glasses filling up and juice spilling everywhere. He placed the jug on the table and pursed his lips. The man in front of him looked distraught for some odd reason, and it perplexed him greatly. Isn't it me who should be flustered? He thought.

"You don't...remember..." Hyukjae repeated.

Hyukjae began to untie his frilly pink apron. He slung it over the top rail of his chair, his eyes unfocused, before staring hard into the void ahead of him for at least a good ten, twenty seconds. It felt like forever to Donghae. Out of nowhere, a sense of uneasiness washed over Donghae like a tidal wave.

"Lee Hyukjae."

"H-huh?"

Breaking out of his trance, Hyukjae's eyes trailed over his own arm, halting where the skin on the tip of Donghae's fingers met with the surface of his wrist. He looked at Donghae, who had been looking back at him with his head tilted, concerned. Hyukjae swallowed, leaning back in his chair.

"Sorry," he apologised.

Following the awkwardness that was starting to build up in the air between them, Hyukjae quickly began to transfer a few pancakes onto the empty plate in front of Donghae with a fork, stretching his lips into a thin smile in a bid to ward off the tension. Donghae, on the other hand, looked on in silence, giving the man ample time to string his thoughts into words. As inhibited as he was, he wasn't sure if breaking the silence would be a good idea, and so he waited. An entire minute passed. Nothing happened. Hyukjae had even begun to cut into his share of pancakes, eating in quietude. The stillness in the air, however, was beginning to wear Donghae's patience thin.

"Hyukjae." Donghae called out again, this time his voice colder than before, breaking the silence. "Tell me why I'm here."

Hyukjae flinched.

"Well, for starters," he began with a small, almost quiet voice, setting his fork down, "you came here on your own."

He looked up at Donghae, wide-eyed.

"Don't you remem—"

"No," Donghae intercepted quickly, frowning, "no, I don't."

"Tell me what you remember of last night then."

Donghae bowed his head in shame upon not being able to recall anything much about the previous night, apart from the fact that he had spent most of it with his best friend, Kyuhyun.

"I don't know," he shrugged, the quiver in his voice indicating uncertainty. "I can only remember Kyuhyun coming over to have a belated birthday celebration with me. We drank a lot. I don't remember the rest."

"Huh," Hyukjae snorted, unamused. "So you don't remember anything you said last night?"

"Not a single thing."

"What about the things you did immediately after stepping into this house? Do you remember any of it at all?"

Donghae could sense desperation in the man's tone, but again, he had no choice but to shrug. He couldn't recall a thing.

"No," he replied, feeling self-conscious. "What did I do?"

Hyukjae bit his bottom lip, contemplating whether or not to tell the brunet the truth. Instead, he picked up his knife and fork, cutting into his food again, avoiding eye contact.

"Nothing much," he lied. "You came over and said you were tired. I helped you undress, and then you crashed. That's all."

Donghae heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank god. I was beginning to think I did something stupid."

Hyukjae scoffed, stuffing his mouth with food. A strange and unfamiliar ache began to pool in his chest.

"Don't worry, you didn't do anything stupid, per se," he lied again. "Let's just quickly eat breakfast so you can head home and I can make my way to the resort, okay? I've got a lot of thinking to do."

Donghae nodded.