Unfaithful Secrets [EXO]

Secret #8

|Chapter 8: In That Moment|

           It's already a quarter to 5pm when Minho finally called it a day. And sure as he is, Jongin is almost limping with all the pain in his thighs and leg muscles that has him going step by step across the dance floor of the studio after their repetitive, strenuous routine. Talk about all the hip thrusts and body waves he had to do all day, plus the occasional devil Minho seeking for every possibility of making things twice as hard.

God. It seems like he's the only one of them who sees his victorious evil grin whenever and however Minho has Jongin dancing like a wrecked puppet over his palms.

"I won't fuck him, if that's what you're worried about. Jeeeeerk!" He scowls in his panting breath, deeply cursing Minho in his head for being a bit too hard on him – just him, all because his reason is Taemin is his best friend. And Taemin here just isn't any help. He only makes things worse; clinging onto him, making pouty faces, resting his head on his lap whenever they were given an amountful short time for rest, typically all the best friend stuffs which Minho can never learn to understand or accept since they started dating.

Either way, Jongin growls even louder under gritted teeth, wanting to castrate Taemin mostly for this inevitable mess he got him into for fucking their own dance instructor starting about a month ago.

"Fuck them both! Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuckkkkkkkkk them!"

Yixing, on the other hand, the Chinese dancer at the opposite side of the room, looks at him, baffled and weird out expression written all over his face and Jongin has to beam the latter an apologetic smile thinking he had no clue of what he is grumbling about, since the said Chinese only had a limited number of English words and phrases he brought with him from overseas.

The poor boy is evidently still learning and getting the hang of things as Jongin sees him scurrying quickly on to his bag and picking something out like a little book from his peripheral view.

And when he thinks, it's finally over, the awkward embarrassment etched on his face grew a bit more unexplainable when he realizes that the young Chinese even asked him something that sounded Chinese or so in his ears, but surely wasn't by the way the last syllable resounded sort of like '-right?' or 'fight', all because his dumbass brain is too tired to register the whole exact phrase and disregard the older's native accent from the question he asked.

"Errr...no. I – okay. No. No worrying. Uhm – Home, now. Okay?" He thumbs behind his back. "You?"

And God, oh god! Jongin falters a grimace for what in the Lord's name he has done. Delayed realization hits. The poor boy's Chinese, not an alien! For heaven's sake!

Yixing's only reply is a sweet looking smile back which Jongin thanked God for but was inevitably blown away by what followed on Chinese dancer's face as an unimpressed look and his eyes rolling sideward seconds later. Then, he was gone, out the door with a loud slam same as the others.

Now Jongin is ultimately sure he is all alone. Unless, someone is hiding behind the studio curtains which he checked first and there is none. Doing so, only made him feel more foolish.