I awoke to a throbbing headache and a thick haze of confusion, the remnants of last night's overindulgences still stubbornly clinging to my senses. As I stumbled out of bed, the daunting reality of the day ahead loomed large over me. Tonight, another rendezvous with San awaited, and tomorrow, a commitment to devote my time to Xiao and Ten — an attempt to balance my attention which had recently tilted noticeably towards San.
While brushing my teeth, a sharp noise from the living room cut through the persistent hum of my hangover. I paused, toothbrush frozen in mouth, initially dismissing the sound as a figment of my still groggy mind. But as I rinsed and stepped out, expecting to find solitude, the scene before me snapped me to full alertness. There, in the heart of my living room, stood San and Xiao, their bodies rigid with tension and their faces etched with confrontation. Their presence was unexpected and the air between them crackled with an intensity that spoke of unresolved issues simmering beneath the surface.
The tension in the room was thick, nearly suffocating, as San's biting words cut sharply through the uneasy morning silence. His frustration was palpable, his voice laden with an acerbic edge. "Grow some balls and stop acting like a victim. I tried to be nice." Each syllable was tinged with disdain and challenge, clearly intended to provoke.
"I'm here to talk to Wooyoung. Do I need your permission for that too?" His voice was direct, his gaze piercing and unyielding, adding fuel to the already simmering confrontation.
I was completely taken aback by the sudden escalation. My mind raced, trying to piece together how my living room had transformed into a battleground for such a heated exchange.
"How did you two get in here?" I demanded, my voice cutting through their heated debate, attempting to claw back some semblance of control over the situation.
A brief, tense silence enveloped the room as both men turned their attention to me. San's expression softened slightly as he inhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing as he spoke. "I brought you home last night—I didn't want to intrude, so I slept on the sofa," he explained, his voice softer, tinged with a hint of regret for the intrusion.
I nodded, processing his words, then turned my attention to Xiao, who stood rigid, his body language screaming frustration. "You asked me to come over this morning so we could talk. That's why I'm here. But this idiot," he gestured angrily towards San, "keeps meddling in things that don't concern him," Xiao spat out, his words dripping with vexation.
