Language of Love|| Minchan

Chapter 5

Chan's Pov

To say that I was coping well was a bit of an overstatement. “Chan, you smell like shit, go take a shower,” “Chan, it looks like you haven’t seen the outside world in months; leave the apartment, please.” These were just some of the remarks my friends threw at me as I helplessly lay in my bed staring at the wall with a blank expression. I didn’t care who had seen me. In my eyes, there was no one I was trying to impress anymore, so my whole sense of judgment and self–care flew out the window ever since you left. It went on for weeks, months even. My friends checking in on me just to make sure I hadn’t done something stupid and that I was somewhat eating even if my appetite was no longer there. I am grateful to have people who still care for me, even after how I treated you. The poor bastards are probably sick of me telling them what happened that night, but I can’t help it. If only I had reacted differently, if only I had kept my mouth shut, I would still have you in my arms. Reminiscing all those times where I wrapped my arms around your waist as you were cooking dinner for both of us, as you squeal and claw playfully at my hands around your waist imitating a cat, the memory alone has me grinning from ear to ear like a fool. ‘You really know how to make someone fall for you, Minho.’

Waking up today at the usual time of 2pm due to my incredibly messed up sleep schedule, I continue to do my daily routine of texting the boys, ‘I’m alive,’ before briefly standing up to walk to the kitchen to pour myself an iced coffee. Yes, I said pour and not make. This is because Felix and Changbin have been kind enough to make me this jug of iced coffee for the week so that I don’t have to do anything and can wallow in self-pity for a bit longer. Like I said before, I am really grateful and lucky to have them as my friends. After pouring myself the iced coffee, getting a whiff of the iced coffee beans mixed with a drizzle of caramel sauce to sweeten my sour life, I trudge back to the room to open a window for ventilation. I might be a mess right now, but I don’t want to suffocate myself just yet. Laying down on my bed as I stare in front of me at the wall that was neither an ugly nor a pretty colour. It was white. Just plain white. However, to me, it was more than that. If you could hear me now, you would probably scoff at me for my “poetic shit,” what you used to call them. Well, anyways, the white wall means something to me because it was the exact place where I pinned you against as I told you how much I loved you. Cringy? Maybe. Do I care? Not really. It is special to me; I don’t care what anyone says.

My daily task of staring at the wall was cut short, however, as the sound of knocking pulled me out of my thoughts. ‘For God's sake, who could that be.’ Grumbling and groaning, I drag myself to the front door with a slight pout resting on my face as I mentally prepare myself to deal with humanity once again. ‘Come on, Chan, you can do this. The quicker you answer the door, the quicker you can go back to bed.’ Once I find the strength and willpower to do so, I open the door only to be met with the one person I really could do without seeing right now. “Hey, Chan…” A timid yet sheepish voice says as the person looks at me with a slight smile. Not bothering to answer, I close the door and begin to walk back to my room. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? What type of sick joke is this, Minho?’ I scoff at myself as I ignore the constant knocking at the door. This continued for a few minutes, the man even beginning to open the letter box and shout through the house, “CHAN PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN. OPEN THE DOOR!” ‘Fuck off, Jisung.’ I mentally scold him, not having the energy to actually reply to him in person. The following 20 minutes, all that could be heard was Jisung knocking and shouting at me to let him in, but being the petty asshole I am, I ignored him and covered my face with the duvet.

“Really, Minho? You sent your little boyfriend to come and talk to me? How fucked up could this get,” I sniffle as all of the memories play out once again. If only things had planned out differently, I wouldn’t be lying here listening to that obnoxious squirrel try to break into my house. If only things had planned out differently, I would probably be lying with you as you prepare a shopping list on your phone for this week’s shopping.