❄ Cold Relations ❄ [SEVENTEEN] ✓

Chapter 19: A Well of Fresh Water (i.e. HaoSoon's Flour Party)

Woozi filled a glass with tap water and raised it to his lips, but the taste was so nasty and metallic that he recoiled and spit violently into the sink. "This water is vulgar," Jihoon rasped. "I can't drink this anymore."

"None of us can." Hoshi was watching Woozi from his seat on the ottoman. The8 was standing by the window, his eyes fixed on the bathroom sink. "But what else is there? Unless we happen upon an underground well, I don't see what choice we have."

Jihoon splashed his face with some cold water and dried his wet bangs with a fluffy hand towel. "What about the supermarket? There's bound to be cases of freshwater there."

"You know what happened the last time we went."

"It's been days," Jihoon argued. "They've probably left by now." He jerked a thumb at The8. "Let him prove himself. We could send him out to get it for us—"

Minghao's stomach filled with dread, so adamant was he not to return to that place; he forced himself to speak up when the time was right. "I'm not going back there."

Woozi's shoulders twitched with surprise. "I thought you were on our side."

"I am," The8 said quickly, "but I'm simply not wanted there, and I don't see any reason for me to go back."

The two of them fell silent. It was like the moment a tsunami surfaced offshore. Hoshi could feel the frustration building up in The8 and threatening to drown them all as Woozi's patience trickled away like sand through his fingers. Hoshi stood up moments before the great wave crashed down on the shore, with the intent of clearing up a potentially dangerous misunderstanding. "Why are you giving The8 such a hard time?" Woozi couldn't answer. "We're all a little tense today, and for some reason we think we have the right to use Minghao as a punching bag. If you're that worried about the water, now that I recall, there's an old pump in the town square. You can take some jugs with you and fill them up. The pump isn't connected to the city's water system, and I'm sure it's much cleaner."

Woozi stared at his reflection in the mirror, as if searching for meaning in those lifeless brown eyes of his, and he wasn't at all pleased with what he saw. "It's not so much the taste," he admitted with a sigh, "but the fear that one of these nights, if the temperature drops too low, the pipes will freeze, and we'll all suffer from dehydration. I don't want that to happen. I care too much..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought, somehow hoping that they would understand his intent.

"You're short-tempered most of the time, and you worry far too much for your own good," Hoshi said, "but you're kindhearted, and that's why we love you."

Despite the wintry weather, Jihoon's heart warmed in response to his friend's affectionate speech. "There should be some empty jugs under the sink. I've been saving them up from our past breakfasts when we use up the last of the milk in our cereal."

The8 got down on his knees, opened the cabinet doors, and took out the two empty cartons. "Let me go."

Jihoon laughed. "Someone's itching to get out. I already told you I would go."

"I need the fresh air. And the open space. It's been too long—"

"Then take a walk in the garden. I need the exercise, so I'm going."

The8 clenched his fists. He knew that no matter what he said, it would somehow be taken the wrong way, or Woozi would twist his words until it looked like he was at fault, so, in the end, The8 had no choice but to give in. "Fine. You go."

"If you're not back in an hour"—Hoshi waggled a finger in warning—"then I'm coming to find you."

"If I'm not back in an hour, you should all be worried," said Woozi in jest, "for I'm either knee-deep in trouble or drunk to the point of forgetting my own name."