The Mess We've Made | Minsung

chapter seventy-three

Spending the entirety of the late evening and early night tossing and turning, the sound of the front door opening and closing was a relief. On a typical weeknight, I'm usually the one who comes home late. Tonight, though, was not one of those cases.

Hearing his footsteps coming up the stairs, I squealed excitedly and called out for him, "C'mere!"

Minho's footsteps quickened and he ran in the room, jumping on the bed and laying on top of me, "I missed you!"

I hugged him tightly, "I missed you too. You're so late."

Minho leaned his head up and kissed me for a inner before pulling his head back, "Why are you awake?"

"I can't sleep without you," I whined. "I even tried cuddling with a pillow but it wasn't the same."

Minho grabbed my cheeks, "You're so precious, baby."

"I love you."

"I love you too," Minho said, kissing my cheek before getting off me. "I think I'm gonna stop with the suits."

"It's about fucking time," I chuckled.

"Don't make fun of me. You know I'm old-school."

"You know I'm old-school," I mocked him. "We're living in the twenty-first century, you know. You came into my work and nobody was wearing business attire. I let my people express themselves. They're each individuals with their own brilliant minds and ideas to better my project. I don't want anyone having a hive-mind mentality."

"I didn't pay much attention to anyone else but you, to be fair. I just know that you don't wear suits as the boss."

I shrugged from underneath the blanket, "Fair."

When he finished undoing his tie, he snatched it off and threw it to the floor, "Yeah, I'm done with this shit."

I stared up at the ceiling and asked him, "Do you think Grayson's ever gonna get over me?"

"I wouldn't be able to," Minho chuckled as he continued taking off his clothes.

"I'm serious. I'm not even mad at him or upset anymore, I feel bad for him. We had a conversation earlier today and he kept asking me weird personal questions about us. Eventually he admitted that he knows there's no chance but I feel like that doesn't make much of a difference. I was literally asking him "Do you need to see a ring on my finger? Do you need to watch us have sex?" Like, I don't know what to do anymore."

"I certain blame him for hurting you but I don't blame him for wanting to be with you. I want to be with you too."

I laughed obnoxiously, "I'd sure fucking hope so."

"I think if one of us said the words "I want to break up," the other would just laugh. Not in a "you can't leave" kind of way but in a "that's definitely a joke" kind of way. You know?"

I nodded my head, "I get you. Don't worry about me over here."

"You're hot."

"I know. So are you."

"So, he really won't lay off?" Minho asked me as he headed toward our bathroom with his boxers on.