Clash of Colors

Don't Want to Lose

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It was a relief that Namjoo was still in one piece. His insides fluttered when he walked toward her.

"What were you doing?" he wondered.

"I was about to shower." She looked up into his face. Her stare lingered curiously.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." Her eyes flittered away. Landing on his face again before turning away.

Assuming she was curious about his arrival, he excused, "I was just driving around and decided to check up on you."

"You didn't have to." Her eyes moved halfway in his direction but didn't meet his gaze. "It's not so bad here. They're really nice to me."

"Yea?" he half-heartedly said. "That's good."

The chill wafted between them. The silence drawing out longer and longer. Say something he thought. He had driven all the way across the bridge for this.

"They might notice that I'm gone," Namjoo shifted. "I should go. You should get some rest, too."

"It is late, huh?" was all he pathetically managed.

Finally looking at him she smiled, "Thanks for coming, Sehun. Good night."

"Yea..." he murmured stupidly. His ears tingled when the door screeched open and she disappeared inside. Heaving a dreadful sigh, he returned to his car and drove home.

"Where've you been?" his mother called out on his way in. Ignoring her he raced up the stairs to his room. Snatching a bundle of clothes and headed down the hallway to shower. Noisily closing the door and slamming the back of his head into it.

What an idiot he was. These stupid things going through his mind was driving him nuts. Groaning he ran a hand over his face. Turning and pausing when he caught his reflection in the mirror. Noticing at last the lipstick stains around his mouth.

Dropping his hand from his face he clutched onto the rim of the cool sink. Feeling his eyes go wide. Suddenly thinking about the curious look Namjoo had given him.

"Dammit!" he cursed aloud.

He hated himself!

He hated himself!

Frustrated, he grabbed the soap container. Arm freezing midway in the air. Wondering what the hell was going on with him. Tossing it into the sink he slumped against the door. Hopelessly sighing.

Worried. What did Namjoo think of him now?

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"Sehun," his mother called. "Sehun."

Raising his head, he looked at his mother across from him.

"Are you sick?" she worried. "You've been mixing your food the last six minutes."

Peering down at his breakfast plate he saw that his food had turned into a weird mix of white, greens, yellows.

"I'm not hungry." Putting down his spoon he turned sullen. Still thinking about the way Namjoo had looked at him last night, and if she thought he had been fooling around now that she wasn't here. That really wasn't the entire story.

"Are you still angry..."

"I'm not!" he snapped. It was hard to tuck away the frown on his face. Shoving his chair back he left the table. His head was going to blow.

"Come talk to me." his father ordered from behind.

Stopping halfway toward the stairs he shut his eyes. Sighing. Forcing himself around he followed his dad into his home office. Closing the door behind him and avoiding the old man's eyes. Acting like a child about to be disciplined.