To love and to Hate

10: Crumbling

Jisung flinched, inhaling deeply as a headache poked into the curtain of unconsciousness veiling his mind. The air smelled different than he was used to, it was cool and light. The headache made its presence fully known when his eyes opened, and his brows furrowed instantly.

The wall a few feet away was unfamiliar, and... his bed was most definitely not on a raised platform. He shot upright despite the pounding in his head and frantically took in his surroundings.

The studio apartment laid out in front of him was bigger than his own, with wooden beams criss-crossing the ceiling and reaching down to the floor in a few spots. An almost bizarre amount of rugs covered the wood floors throughout the living area and surrounding the platform the bed was on. The furniture was all either dark brown or a very subtle shade of tea green.

Jisung's mind raced through the night before. He needed to think beyond the pleasure he remembered and conjure up who he was with. Then he remembered anger and lust combining, the image of a familiar figure looming over him.

Right then, Minho came around the corner dressed in loose trousers and a deep red shirt that hung loose on his shoulders and had ribbons trailing around the waist. Those ribbons were usually cinched and tied away when he wore it. He was fluffing his hair with a towel, and he stopped at the bottom of the platform upon seeing Jisung sitting up.

They stared at each other.

"No no no no no," Jisung rambled, shaking his head as he moved to get up. He wanted to disintegrate when he realized the only thing covering him was the blanket, and his clothes were scattered in a trail from the front door. He shoved his hands into his hair, pulling on the strands for a few seconds to ground himself. "This did not happen."

"But it did," Minho finally said, dropping the towel onto his shoulders.

Jisung grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. "I was drunk!"

Minho batted the pillow away. "I was too, genius. We both fucked up, we're even."

"This can't be real. This shouldn't have happened, this didn't happen. Jisung used the blanket to cover himself as he hurried to gather his clothes.

"You can't turn back time, darling. Besides, you obviously enjoyed it."

Jisung turned to glare at Minho, but his mind stuttered. As Minho was turning away, Jisung saw red scratches painted on his golden skin, very obviously peeking out from the low cut of the shirt he wore. His cheeks grew red.

But apparently that wasn't what Minho was showing him, because the water mage picked up a pair of pillow cases. "See?" The cases were partially scorched.

Jisung's jaw dropped. Had he ever let his magic slip while in the bedroom? The answer was a definite no, but there was no way he was going to admit that out loud.

"Yeah, you almost burned my place to the ground, it's a good thing I have the ability to put your magic out."

Jisung began throwing his clothes on, not even caring that Minho was watching him. They just slept together, it's not like there was much to hide anyway. "I can't believe I got drunk enough to let this happen."

"At least you found satisfaction, unlike you would have if you went with that man." Minho was walking toward the kitchen area, but Jisung could hear the smirk in his voice. "I will say that guy missed out too, you really know what you're doing."

Jisung's clothes were haphazardly hanging off his body now, but they were on. "Stop talking. This didn't happen, Minho." He moved for the door.

"What, you're not even going to stay for breakfast?" Minho sneered from across the way.