Tiger Inside ||Stray Kids Mafia AU||

Chapter Twelve

My back rested against the cool, padded floor of the gym, eyes pressed shut and arms splayed as I attempted to steady my breathing. I had awoken early despite my late night out, the ability to fall back asleep failing me. Everything felt tense from the night prior. The adrenaline that had pumped its way through my veins feeling as though it would never escape, holding my muscles and brain hostage. 

How stupid I had been to let my guard down for a single night, the charm of an unknown stranger getting the best of me. My mind continued to replay my moments at the table with him, attempting to recount when he had the ability to discreetly slip something into my drink without my knowledge. I had always been so vigilant of my drinks before, why now, when it is of the utmost importance did I let that skill fade?

In a frustrated huff, I sat up and pulled my headphones back over my ears, standing and facing the punching bag once more. My wrapped hands balled into fists before making contact with the material, a sharp puff of air leaving my lips with each blow. I let myself get carried away in the motions, brain in a fog as I continued my shots, Changbin’s training on stature and form replaying on a mental loop through my ears.  

Minho. His rash decision to pull the drink from my hand, his stare down with Seonghwa as he drank it himself, his slow descent into unconsciousness all leading up to his arms slung over Seongho and my shoulders.

“You” Punch. “Stupid.” Punch. “Idiot.” My final punch grew in force, sending the punching bag swinging as I settled my fists on my hips, the sound of my breathing from my heaving chest muffled over the sound of my music. I swung around in shock as my headphones are slowly pulled from my ears, a smirking Minho now standing with them in hand with an arched brow.

“What was that?” His cocky grin plastered his face, a clear look of amusement. I scoffed as I pulled the headphones from his grasp, turning and walking away to grab my water bottle off the bench. Minho’s steps followed me, taking a seat on the bench and leaning back against the wall, eyes following me as I took a drink from the bottle. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Couldn’t I ask you the same thing? Shouldn’t you be resting after your little act last night?” I avoided his gaze as I screwed the lid back on, ignoring his presence as I turned to continue my assault on the punching bag. 

“I’m a little groggy, but I’ll be fine. Wasn’t my first run in with it.” Minho gave a soft shrug, brushing off the blunt statement.

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” My words are choppy through my punches, my sharp breaths giving me an aspirated tone. I could feel his eyes burning holes into my skin as I distracted myself from his direction, landing one last punch before speaking again. “Not really something to brag about.” I flicked the stray strands of hair from my face as I tilted my head back with a deep breath, staring up to the ceiling. “Doesn’t make it any less stupid." I lowered my head to finally look at him, my face contorted in confusion. “Also, are we just gonna breeze by the fact that you just said it wasn’t your first time? Because that’s a little worrisome” 

Minho slowly rose from his seat, his stride over to me slow as he rounded behind me, my shoulders immediately tensing as two hands settled on them, his head leaning forward beside my own. Minho’s voice was barely a whisper, sending the same familiar chills down my spine from last night.

“Says the serial run-away.” My face scrunched as I attempted to shake him off of me, pulling myself away to the other side of the bag and continuing my practice. My intentions were to come down here to be by myself, take some anger out on a punching bag for breakfast in lieu of a cup of coffee, but in classic Minho fashion, that wasn’t going to be an option for my choosing.