[2] Red | Mingi ✓

seven | the one with the shopping from hell

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THE SAME EVENING, MINT GOT a rude awakening at the supermarket that it was taboo to feel great if the universe didn't want her to. It was starting to look like everything wanted her miserable until she finally offed herself.

   Well, she thought, I'm pretty damn close, as she forced a bleak smile on her face just so Mingi didn't discover he was the nuclear weapon she was trying to steer clear of, even while he's being pushed to believe that his reinstatement was indeed appreciated and the way it should be. In the middle of an aisle coloured white and a splash of other colours from all the junk lined up on the shelves on either side, his black ensemble made for a good way to stand out. Not the red hair, however. At least ten items as far as the eyes could see sported the same shade.

   "Mint..." He trailed off. It moved her to scoff discreetly. Déjà vu, but not the good kind, she regarded. If happenings played out the same way they did last time, Mingi was on his way to sputtering a "wow, I..." trailing off a second time. He didn't, although it hadn't eased off the gnawing discomfort in Mint's stomach. The walls were starting to scream for help and she couldn't help them, not when she was too busy, flaked about saving her own self.

   Mingi held his peace for up to a minute before he conjured words that, even though were no better, beat having conversations that ignited the wrong flashbacks. Rather, the painful ones. "You're here."

   "I am," she said.

   Mingi was no conversational wizard, but well, neither was Mint. (Now they had something new in common.) She came from a long line of shy types. And every once in a while, there was that Park that would step out of a comfort zone to strike up discussion with a girl he really liked and decide then and there that it was destiny and that girl was, yes, destined to be his soulmate. Mint knew the story of how Hwa met Sonny, also congnizant of how it took some serious balls on his end. She knew cousin Hwa—they flocked with the same feather.

   "Shopping?" Mingi asked. Not much but okay. Better than she was doing, Mint would say. However stating the obvious didn't disinfect the air of awkwardness, it simply reminded one that they were pressed for time and the obvious was an utter waste of it. Mint started thinking of multiple TV series she vowed never to watch again because she hated them. At this moment she would favour binge-watching them all over in place of this.

   That's why you visit a supermarket. That's why there's a goddamn metal cart between us. She was ticked in regards to his stupid inquiry.

   "Pretty much, yes." Familiar music floated into their bare exchange of words from speakers she couldn't see. A young mother with her tot just ambled by and not without passing a flitting look between the two adults seemingly indulging ... something, in the audience of Lays chips and Pringles. "Food ran out," then she felt the need to add, "almost."

   Mingi's laugh managed to trip on a few invisible hurdles and he appeared stilted. Mint sighed to herself, in content. It was a new look on him.

   "Me too."

   On reflex, Mint's eyes bounced off his face down to his hands. They were empty. As if believing he deserved justification, Mingi reached for the first thing he could lay his hand on: a box of crackers. Mint didn't catch the brand, she didn't care. She was starting to see she could look him in the eye and pretend there wasn't a marching band going at it in her chest, and further down, an orchestra, the notes to a symphony swaying listlessly until they found organs to tickle and then there were flutters, above that the band had increased its tempo, her heart on the verge of beating out her body. The Aircon was rendered useless. Mint believed the beads of sweat dotting her bare forehead were each the size of a fist.

   "Okay." Mint gave a curt nod, reversing her cart, ready to go around him, and straight out the main entrance. She'd come back tomorrow.

   "Uh..." Mingi's left hand clamped down the front of the cart. He had on this facial expression, a cross between pained and desperate. When he chuckled, it was humourless. "Seriously getting the wrong vibes off you, Mint."

   In her belly, bass drum sounded off a boom that rattled her from head to toe. Mint practically jumped on the spot. "Pardon?"

   "I did something wrong, didn't I?" He asked. "But you never told me what, ever since that day I followed you back to your apartment and I asked. You're avoiding me. You don't want to say why."

   "Mingi—"

   "Tell me what it is, Mint. Please?"

   Mint looked at him. Really looked at him. From one iris to the other, down the bridge of his nose, stopping short of his upper lip. Her gaze stayed there for a while before heading back to the top—his eyes.

   And she looked some more.

   And Mint felt ... absolutely nothing.

   His cluelessness was starting to get old, but doing anything about it? That was always the stumbling block. To Mint, Mingi just seemed like an unmindful son of a cracker. There was fear, there was also a hint of pride. Why do the dirty work. If Mingi was pleading amnesiac to that fateful day when she confessed, she was pleading the same. Pretending wasn't so hard the moment one got comfortable doing so.

   The corners of Mint's mouth hoicked up, the contents of her innards climbing and rising. "Why do you feel that way, Mingi? I finally told you I missed you couple nights ago. That's the next best thing to 'glad to have you back'. Or do you need that in writing, too? On a card?"

   Mint could not believe it. Was she about to have this dreadful chat at a supermarket? Not bustling at this hour, but only because the sun had set, most housewives catering to their families, likewise the maids. About a handful of people like herself thought nighttime was the right time for grocery. Then there were those like Mingi who visited retail stores just because. For crackers, I guess, Mint decided.

   "I'm not mad at you, Mingi, nor do I have reasons to avoid you, which I'm not," she lied through her teeth. "Work's been quite busy lately. Big project coming up."

   She didn't know if that was true. Bang Chan hadn't announced anything yet. However one thing Mint discovered was that work always made for the perfect escape. Mingi was falling for it already.

   Bang Chan—he called her friend today.

   Mint had no idea a wistful smile had found her face until she spotted the slight frown starting to settle between Mingi's brows. Mint wondered what he could be thinking. She also sidetracked to wonder what her friend from work was up to right this minute. But definitely not dealing with thoughtless old best friends. Maybe her and Mingi weren't even made to call each other best friends. Their relationship sure as hell didn't fit the bill and now it seemed ridiculous thinking it did once before. Perhaps then was a blanketed lie.

   He hesitated before he said, "I want to believe you..."

   "But you're having a hard time?" A derisive snort slipped out of Mint. On a day like this, at an hour such as this, some might call her the meanest she'd ever been. "Not my problem," she looks up at him, "shop with me?"

   "O-Okay."

   Mingi took hold of the cart, Mint walked a couple steps ahead, not far enough to give off the idea that she merely asked out of formality and would rather gulp down poison than be anywhere next to him, just enough to give an illusion of it. This way, he could say nothing.

   Probably to the redhead, he didn't know his friend anymore. To the friend that once wore green hair, she could care less.

   That had been the night she stopped giving a shit.