#1 TOXIC SERIES
It's the typical Enemies to Lovers story, flavored by yours truly.
Raised in the same neighborhood and social circle, Minho and Hyunjin know each other far too well. Both families are well-known chaebols with deep roots in the South...
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The lines I had drawn to perfectly cage the rules I'd set for myself started to fade. Logic. Common sense. Structure. Poised. All of that made me got tainted by a muggy blur I preferred to call obstacles, and now everything was not black nor white. My box of rules got breached by emotions I dreaded the most in life.
And it happened when I caught myself to be pretend-sleeping. Maybe I could fool Hwang but I couldn't fool myself when I forced him closer to me. How my body decided to hold him a little tighter. And how my heart leaped when I sniffed my scent on him.
It pleased me. It fucking pleased me.
Which made me let go of him in the middle of the night when I made sure Hwang was sound asleep.
I should have known this was going in the wrong direction when I decided out of nowhere, without a backup plan I normally would have, to help him. I wasn't the comforting type. I wasn't the hugging type. I was in many ways my father who didn't know how to use his voice when it wasn't about work. Or my mother who never gave me the warmth and mother love when I needed it the most. I was raised between many nannies who had no name or face.
Yet I gave all of what wasn't me to Hwang.
"Fuck!" My head spun even more now when I got hit on the cheek. I shook my head, blinking away the stars that danced around Chan.
A very annoyed Chan.
"That was a piss poor defense you got there," he growled at me and launched the next gloved fist toward my jaw. I stumbled backward with a very shitty footwork, to give myself more time to get Hwang out of my mind and my head back into the sparring session I was having in the ring. "Where the fuck is your head at?"
Where was my head at? Why did this even bother me so much... It wasn't the first time I had someone in my bed. I have given my fair share of hugs, or at least I tried to give them. My ex bed partners could disagree on that. Alright, so maybe I wasn't so touchy in bed..
It fucking bothered me that I pulled Hwang against me so willingly!
"Shit!" Chan cursed through a painful grunt. "Where did that grand slam come from?" He winced when he touched his cheekbone with his forearm and saw blood smeared over his skin.
I lowered my trembling fist, fueled with anger that was directed toward myself. Still, I aimed at my best friend. My shin. His side. And a vibration that went up through my bare feet when Chan hit the floor.
"Holy shit, whatever is pissing you off, you should use that against Hwang in the next fight. Maybe you'll win for once." Chan didn't bother to come back up again. He sat cross-legged while he used his armpit to remove his glove and then removed the other. I sat the same way, outstretching my arms, red and glistening in sweat from the intense session, so he could remove my gloves as well.
I leaned back on my palms with a heaving chest and lay my head between my pulled-up shoulders to stare at the ceiling. My throat was in desperate need of water; repeatedly trying to swallow the thick saliva through the dryness, the stretch of my neck making it even harder. But I was too tired. Too lost in thought. Too much of everything to get me a bottle of water.
