Final
Intoxicated
Slowly, and with a soft sigh of annoyance, you tap the screen of your phone; it’s already past three in the morning.
Now, you’re not an intolerant person per say, nor does the idea of him staying out late bother you, but… It is past three in the morning, and he has a schedule at seven. You’re simply looking out for him. Nothing more, nothing less.
As you watch another minute tick by, you sigh once more. Who are you kidding, really? It bothers the living hell out of you.
The exact moment you decide to give up, get out of the couch and turn off the television — which you had almost forgotten you were watching — so you can go to bed, you hear a noise. Your heart stops for a moment, thinking it’s him. Your feet guide you to the hallway to check if your intuition is right, while your brain makes sure you don’t look too eager, or too excited.
Hey, if anyone asks, you just happen to be still awake, it’s not like you were waiting up for him or anything.
You jut your head around the corner, but don’t see anyone entering. You only hear some fumbling on the door, followed by some under-breath cursing.
Finally, the door opens. Your eyes instantly meet. Nothing happens for a while. Simply you staring at him, and him staring at you. You almost forget how long you’ve been waiting, or how late it is. That’s until the door suddenly falls into the lock with a bang, making you both jump up. Myungsoo then turns around. It takes him a moment to process the fact that the sound originated from the door slamming shut, then he starts giggling.
You raise an eyebrow at his reaction.
“It was the door,” he points at the culprit, still giggling.
Myungsoo continues staring at the door for a while, then his laughter suddenly dies out. He turns his head in your direction, and asks you with a serious voice: “You don’t think it hurt, right?”
Before you get the chance to say something, he’s placed his hands on the wooden surface, slowly caressing it. “I’m so sorry,” he repeatedly whispers. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
You silently take a few steps closer. Silent, as you don’t really know what to say in this situation. The closer you get, the better you smell the veil of alcohol surrounding him.
“You’ve been drinking,” you say.
You don’t mean to sound so reprimanding, but for some reason that’s exactly how it sounds. Luckily, he’s too drunk to grasp that fact.
“I’ll buy you something nice to make up for it tomorrow,” Myungsoo promises, then cups his chin as he thinks it over. “Maybe a new color? Or perhaps you prefer a peep-hole?” He shakes his head and laughs at his own ideas. “No,” he looks at you. “Peep-holes are too old-fashioned,” he explains.
You don’t say anything, even though he’s looking at you as if he’s waiting for your input.
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