The Inventor

Chapter Thirty Six; "Tad bit toxic"

     There were only ten minutes for the three of you to get ready. You spent the time strapping runners gear on, trying to fill up a water bottle at the same time. It had been a long time since you put gear on, even when you were forced to run you usually took a bag and wrapped it around yourself. Running gear came a week before your accident and you never had time to get accustomed to it. Your fingers fumbled, cursing at it and feeling like an old grouch with the way you kept grumbling about the change.

     The door of the large shed creaked open more, the shabby window letting in enough grey light to see Minho staring at you expectantly.

     You made a face at him just to see his taken aback expression before going back to trying to figure out the stupid straps.

     "You're doing it wrong," He commented.

     "Thanks, your loads of help-" Your jaw clenched tight when he batted your hands away, cutting yourself off. He readjusted the gear and secured it like second nature, hands moving swiftly while he brushed over your shoulders, your waist and an arm even wrapping around to click something in the back.

     "And you thought you were so up to date," He muttered cheekily.

     "These things are stupid and useless," You said hotly.

     "You say that about everything that you don't understand," He pointed out, hands still resting at your hip, "Bet you said that a lot about me too."

     "Wow, so dramatic. Are we having a moment?" You sneered, "Sorry, should I say something like, 'yeah, you're not so bad' or, 'yeah I don't understand you'?" You gripped his wrist tightly, "Because that would be correct, I don't get you but I really do hate your guts you traitorous coward."

     He closed his eyes for a few moments, taking his hands away and gripping your wrists instead when he opened his eyes again, "I thought I was doing what was right then."

     "I know you were, I've gotten over that part but it was where you barged into my hut and let Nick in. Then when you let him yell at me and practically agreed with him," You thought for a moment, "I still blame you because you didn't even have the audacity to let me get over it before you started yelling telling me to. The death threat set me off too."

     "You threatened me first," His hands gripped your wrists tighter.

     "Only after you stabbed me in the back for the second time, just a tad bit toxic."

     "I didn't let Nick in your hut," He grunted, "He just popped up, probably hearing us arguing and started screaming. I had nothing to do with that."

     You stared at him, reanalyzing him completely. That feeling of anger and regret didn't leave when you stared at him, might have lessened slightly and have a new emotion take up a small portion of space. Mournfulness, wishing he had told you that sooner so you didn't have to be caught up on it this whole time. The anger flushed it out soon after, the timing was revolting, you wanted to hit him for it.

     And that's what you tried to do, straining against his grip on your wrist to land a blow to his jaw but he didn't budge.

     "I knew you were going to try and hit me!" He announced, "I knew it, I know you."

     "Your timing is late, it's worth just as much as a sorry excuse now," You spat at him, "That doesn't change anything."

     He clenched his jaw and let your hands go, "Right, I knew that, just thought you should know."

     You shot him a glare, "Of course you did, one year later."

     And then Thomas walked into view, stopping when he saw the two of you standing awfully close to each other.

     He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, we just- I thought we were going now."

     "We are," Minho replied shortly, walking out, "Let's go, don't lag behind."

     "Couldn't, even if I tried," You said cockily.

     Thomas gave you a strange, confused glance but kept his mouth shut. Definitely was smarter then he appeared to be.