fragments | bang chan

v.

You stepped out of the shower, toweling your hair dry. Droplets of cooling water dripped onto the tile floor beneath your feet, sending chills through your toes and continuing throughout your exposed body. Wrapping your hair in another towel, you wrapped yourself up and then exited the stuffy room, visible steam rising up off your red skin. It had been a while since you had such a satisfying shower. Showers with Chan were never like that, you told yourself, it's better to shower without him anyways.

Right. He always hogged the water. And he always made it too cold. Plus, he would use up all of your favorite, expensive body wash, and he would smugly look at you while lathering up his body.

You scowled. Never mind that. You walked into your bedroom, which was now significantly cleaner as you had cleared all of the laundry off of the floor, and selected one of your favorite hoodies. Of course, it had once belonged to Chan. You slipped on a pair of panties and some leggings, and then attempted to dry your hair some more before eventually giving up and throwing it into an extremely messy ponytail of some sort.

You hung up your towels and reached for your toothbrush, ignoring Chan's toothbrush that had been set right next to yours. You squeezed a glob of toothpaste onto the bristles and roughly thrust it into your mouth, the mere thought of toothpaste starting to annoy you again. Because god damn it, Chan was annoying when he used toothpaste too, now that you think about it. He always used way too much, and it would often fall off of his toothbrush and into the sink. He would never clean it up either, leaving you to scrub at the dried minty paste hours later, grumbling angry words under your breath. It shouldn't be a big deal, you supposed, but doing it every day for three years?

It gets annoying.

You scowled at your reflection in the foggy mirror before spitting out a glob of foamy toothpaste and rinsed it down the sink. Why did you keep thinking of him tonight? Why were you so restless?

As you reached over the sink to put your toothbrush back in its respective place, your sleeve knocked over the soap bottle, sending it rolling and crashing to the floor, shattering all over the damp tile. You froze as shards of glass spread across the floor, some brushing against your bare feet. "Damn it," you muttered, and took a careful step back to assess the damage.

The soap bottle was well and truly broken. It seemed like there wasn't a single large shard remaining, and it had splintered into millions of tiny pieces, glittering in the light, almost taunting you. You rubbed your eyes tiredly before opening the cabinet under the sink and taking out a dustpan and brush. Wearily, you started sweeping up the seemingly endless pieces of glass.

Who the hell even has a glass soap bottle anyways?
The heavy glass bottle had been a gift from Chan's parents. It seemed like a bit of a weird gift at first, but it had been somewhat of a housewarming gift to you and Chan, as they had first met you when Chan was newly moving into your apartment. They had gifted it to you among other things, mainly bathroom and other house decorations.

Did it particularly suit your taste? No. But did you treasure it anyways? Yes. What kind of monster would throw out a gift from their significant other's parents anyways?

"Baby?" Chan called. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what is it?" you asked, walking into the bedroom, abandoning your sorting of Chan's seemingly endless kitchen utensils.

Chan was seated on your bed, clothes strewn quite haphazardly all over the floor in his organized mess of unpacking. "It looks like a tornado blew in through here," you remarked, picking up a plain black muscle tee and tossing it at him. He caught it with ease, grinning.

"Don't worry babe, I'll clean it up soon," he promised cheekily. You smiled and hopped into his lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?"