#1 TOXIC SERIES
It's the typical Enemies to Lovers story, flavored by yours truly.
Raised in the same neighborhood and social circle, Minho and Hyunjin know each other far too well. Both families are well-known chaebols with deep roots in the South...
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There were shards of glass behind my eyelids, it must be. Pulverized into stingy dust when I squeezed them shut even deeper, trying to get rid of the pain now flaring all around my skull. But besides the throbbing pain dominating my head, there was also a comfortable warmth I wanted to snuggle deeper into.
Then a faint scent of peach hit my nostrils and I automatically backed away.
"Don't you dare make a scene," a hoarse voice sounded, coated with sleep. "You owe me that much, it's fucking early."
My eyelids cracked open, which felt like sandbags, and saw Lee lying beside me with his face half-hidden into the pillow and the rest covered by his bed hair. I instantly regretted opening them.
Fuck, my head!
"There are pills and water on your nightst—books," Lee spoke without batting an eye.
How? Never mind. I rolled onto my other side, getting jabbed by some more daggers into my brain along the way, and saw beside the burnout candle two pills and a bottle of water waiting for me.
I popped them into my mouth and gulped half of the water to wash it down, in the meantime I glanced back where, undeniably, Lee lay—in my bed, his breathing falling back into a deep, slow rhythm. What the fuck happened last night?
Digging deeper into my memory turned into a slight regret. All I could see through my après-vodka-soaked-brain were blurry shapes and faces—which only hurt me more—nothing that was helpful at all to get me to understand why my enemy lay beside me in bed. But that wasn't even the part that made me nauseous, we've already done that, twice, it was that he was in my home. In my bedroom.
Like magnets, my eyes were forced back to check his face again, or the bits I could see. Between locks of hair, I saw his delicate lashes fanned out over his cheek. His nose twitched by a particular strand of hair that tickled it, moving along with the flow of his breathing.
I was uncharitably quiet, it felt impossible to think, not when my eyes were about to pop out.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I finally managed to say, throat thick and uncomfortable, ignoring his earlier plea to let him sleep. My body was too jittery to think of sleep, and I kind of wanted him gone. Whatever happened yesterday, drunk me had decided this. But now I was a sobered up me, with a killer hangover, I couldn't use the same card again. It was weird as fuck to have him here beside me like we were playing out some domestic scene.
There came nothing more than a low grunt as a response. His arms slid under the pillow, wrapping his head in it. I waited, thinking he would eventually say something, but it seemed he was only kicking me out of his dream.
"Ya!"
"You begged me to stay, now shut the fuck up!" The pillow he used as a barricade seconds ago, smacked in my face. Lee pulled the covers over his head and grumbled a train of curse words—most likely directed at me.
