My anger flares, but I remain silent, lost in the depths of his mesmerizing eyes. "You have a knack for getting on my nerves," he says, chuckling softly.
"And you have a knack for making everything infinitely more complicated," I retort, though my v...
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This morning, Yang's call hit me like a freight train, dragging every fragmented memory of last night back to the forefront of my mind. His voice, laced with an edge of frustration, informed me that Lee was passed out cold on his couch, and he wanted me to come by and fetch the "annoying piece of shit" to take him home. Despite my throbbing hangover and better judgment, here I am, trudging up the gravel pathway to Yang's sprawling mansion.
As I approached, a line of cars parked outside caught my attention. Yang wasn't the type to have lots of guests. That's what made it so suspicious.
I knocked on the intricately carved door, which opened almost immediately to reveal Yang's overly cheerful face. That face—always so smug and annoyingly upbeat—was the last thing I wanted to see this morning. Yang's smile barely reached his eyes, and he looked more tired than happy as he led me through the opulent, echoing corridors of his home. The polished marble floors and grand chandeliers only seemed to magnify my growing unease.
When Yang finally guided me into the living room, my brain short-circuited. There, sprawled across the room in various states of disarray, were six men. Three were slouched on the plush, overstuffed couches, snoring loudly. One man sat on the floor, nursing a glass of water with a weary, bleary-eyed expression. The remaining two stood together, deep in conversation. My heart sank as I recognized each of them—fuck this feels like high school.
As I stepped into the room, every head turned to face me. My mouth fell open in disbelief. Han was likely here to collect the comatose Seo, and Felix was probably there for Bahng. Kim was lounging as if this was the most natural thing in the world, while Lee lay sprawled across the couch, drooling and mumbling incoherently.
The sight was overwhelming. The room fell into a heavy silence, punctuated only by the low murmurs of the men trying to shake off the remnants of their own hangovers. Felix was the first to break the silence, extending his hand with a polite, albeit strained, smile. "We met last night, didn't we? Nice to see you again." I nodded and shook his hand, though no one else bothered to offer any form of greeting. I glanced around, and the familiar faces seemed to drag me back to a time when everything felt simpler—when Han had been able to feel, Yang wasn't fake, Kim wasn't insecure, Lee wasn't a player, Bahng hadn't lost hope, and Seo had been true to himself.
Those days seemed like a distant dream now, a stark contrast to the reality of today. I was almost entirely to blame for the mess that had become our lives.
I tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "So, you're all here to pick up the alcoholics?" The group collectively rolled their eyes, though a few smirks crept onto their faces. I chuckled and made my way over to Lee. "Wake up, asshole," I said, giving him a sharp poke. He jolted awake, inadvertently nudging Seo, who had his leg draped over Lee's thigh.
Lee groaned in protest, "What the hell do you want?" before rolling over and attempting to go back to sleep. I surveyed the room again, knowing full well that we were all in for a long, uncomfortable wait. We'd have to endure each other's presence without tearing each other apart. Easier said than done.
