Elevator ♥ Choi Jongho

07.

The cork popped off the champagne bottle and you squealed as its contents began pouring out on its own accord. Jongho also made a surprised noise at the back of his throat as his bare cupped hands darted out to try and catch the bubbly liquid. The both of you laughed, Jongho's head dropping down like it does, as you quickly brought the bottle over to the sink. You saw Sannie scamper off, away from the liquid that dripped onto the floor.

The both of you had changed out of your clothes and into something more comfortable of hoodies and sweatpants. Jongho wore what he had leant to you all those months ago, finally getting it back. You had to admit, he looked better in his hoodie than you ever did.

"I got it, I got it," You gasped, trying to refrain from laughing, "Can you hand me those mugs?"

Jongho picked up the mugs and furrowed his brows at them. You giggled, "I don't have any champagne glasses, sorry."

"Well, we'll make the most of what we can." He shrugged.

You poured out the champagne and handed him his mug. You held yours out and toasted, "To the not New Year."

He clinked his mug on yours, "To the not New Year."

You sipped your drink and, over the brim, you could see Jongho still smiling at you, half his face hidden by the mug.

All of a sudden, the mug in Jongho's hands slipped from his grasp. There was a sharp splintering noise as the porcelain crashed onto the hard floor and split into a hundred small pieces. The champagne began spreading across the tiles. Jongho jumped back, "I'm so sorry, Y/n!".

"Jongho, I'm sure I won't miss a mug- Wait-"

As you spoke, he had dropped to the floor, reaching to pick up the broken pieces. You went to snatch his fingers away but you were too late.

He exclaimed in pain when he pricked his left palm on one of the sharp shards. A drop of blood appeared and began to pool. Your eyes widened, "I'll get the first aid kit! Just wait here."

Jongho was sitting cross-legged on the floor when you reappeared with the small, red bag. He looked up as you knelt before him and began cleaning off the blood with a damp cloth.

"I'm alright, Y/n," he muttered.

"You will be."

You began dressing his wound carefully, finishing by wrapping a beige bandage over his hand and securing it.

That's when you saw it. Jongho's eyes followed yours to the brown scar over the side of his wounded hand.

Still holding his hand in yours gently, your finger traced over his scar absentmindedly, your eyebrows drawn together, as you felt the raised skin. "Strange," You mused, "I have one just like yours. What a coincidence." You held up your right hand, where you had a near identical scar to his, except yours was bigger, an old wound that was faint.