Dirty Minho ~ MinSung (Part.1)

🔱ᵐᶤᶰʰᵒ¹⁶🔱

I thought things were going well. And then he started talking to Ma. Her little boy is in the back, so I'm not going to question him on the drive back to my house, but as soon as we get alone, I wanna know what's got into his head.
He looks so beautiful, leaning his head against the car door, sleeping. So peaceful. Peaceful is the right word. He's got faint wrinkles around his eyes and I know it's from his stressing out. He's a type. A personality without a doubt. I am too, but I don't let it run me into the ground like he does. But then again, I didn't have the shitty luck he's been having. It's hard to believe a man would cheat on him. If I had to guess why, my guess would be money. His business had just failed. That and he was making more than him. Maybe he felt emasculated. I don't know, and I don't really give a shit why. He was a fucking idiot for cheating on him. And for leaving him.

I turn the wheel up the drive and park in the garage as usual. It feels different, though. I take a peek over my shoulder and his little boy is passed out just like him. I don't want to wake either of them, so I silently slip out of my seat and gently close the door. I go around to Baekhyun's door and carefully pull him out, letting his head rest on my shoulder. It's odd caring a sleeping child. He's light and limp. Probably drooling on my shirt. I stifle my chuckle and carry him into the house. I have a guest room upstairs that'll be perfect for him. It's right next door to my room, so I'm sure we'll hear him if he wakes up. I lay him down nice and gentle and hold my breath while he readjusts and snuggles into the mattress. I really don't need this kid waking up and freaking out.

I turn around and Hannie nearly scares the shit out of me. My heart tries to jump up my fucking throat and my blood shoots up with adrenaline. He's standing there, rubbing his eyes in the doorway. I'm happy he has them closed, too, because my first Instinct was to reach for my gun. I tuck it back into the holster and casually walk toward him like he didn't give me a heart attack.
"Bedtime, little tiger." I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him out of the room, but he resists me. I look down at him with wide, frightened eyes with a confused look.
"I don't want to leave him alone." Oh, fuck that. He's sleeping with me. He sleeps alone at his place; he'll be fine there.
"He's already passed out, little tiger." I tug on his waist again. He takes a look at him and then back to me before pulling away from me. He strolls over to him and I wait in the doorway. I hold back on everything until I know for sure what he's doing.
He leans over him and pets his hair before giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "Good night, my baby boy; I love you." I just barely hear him.
He rises slowly, not taking his eyes off him, before coming back to my side. "Good boy."
As soon as we get to the bedroom, he looks around like he's lost. Like he's a nervous virgin. I like that he's a bit frightened. I like that I can take his control away. He'll learn to love it. I'll show him how good it can be when someone else is in charge.

I stroll to my dresser and grab a white T-shirt for him to wear for the night. I should go downstairs and grab all his shit. But I don't feel like it, and he'll look good in my shirt anyway. It's that, or he can go naked. I'm fine either way. When I look up to toss him the shirt, he's standing by the night stand, digging through his purse.
"What are you looking for, little tiger?" I asked, walking up behind him.
"My pills." His answer makes my body go cold. I don't like that he takes medication. I understand he's wound tight and going through some shit, but I don't like it. He grabs a bottle and pops the lid.
"Which one is that?" It wasn't my business before, but now he's in my care, so I want to know everything.
"Codeine," he says while palming a single pill.
Shit, I feel like an asshole for thinking like that. Like he shouldn't be taking medicine. Given what he's been through, it's amazing he's doing everything that he is.
"I'll get you a glass of water, babe." I jog down the stairs, so I can get back to him quickly. Guilt weighs down on my shoulders. He wouldn't be in pain if it wasn't for me.
When I get back to him, he's sitting on the bed, looking down at his bare feet and wearing the shirt I gave him. He has a sad look on his face. I can't even begin to guess what's causing it. There's so much shit he has to deal with.