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I. XM

Xu Minghao

an alarm clock jolts him awake; the shrill ringing drawing his lips into a tired pout. he taps the small button atop the clock, and it immediately silences, leaving minghao in silence once again.

he has yet to draw his curtains. his room is still dark, and a bit cold. after a few moments, he finally works up the courage to kick the covers off of himself and sit up. he rubs his face tiredly and stretches before standing up.

he walks to his window and pulls his curtains open, squinting at the bright light flooding the room. he looks up at the sky to get an idea of the weather, and walks out of his bedroom, planning what to wear for the day ahead.

he pads into the kitchen and immediately goes for the kettle, filling it at the sink and setting it back on the stove to heat up. he hears the familiar click and the smell of gas as the flame ignites and adjusts the heat before turning his back to the stove.

he hums to himself as he moves around the kitchen, measuring out his tea and slicing up an apple for breakfast. the shrill whistle of the kettle puts an abrupt end to his song. He pours the hot water into his mug and covers it, retreating back to his room while it steeps. 

from inside, the weather looks sunny and beautiful. but after four years, minghao has grown to understand the reality of the weather in icheon compared to the illusion it gives off. he knows cold air will nip at his nose and hears the moment he walks out of his house, so he plans accordingly.

he pulls a turtleneck from its hanger and retrieves a pair of jeans and socks from his dresser. he laments momentarily at the all black getup but quickly moves on, fearing that he'll over-steep his tea if he doesn't move quickly. 

he pulls his sweater over his head and wiggles into his jeans, cursing quietly at himself for forgetting to put his socks on first. he grabs a pair of boots and carries them and his socks downstairs, rushing to uncover his tea and throw out the leaves. he takes a sip and winces at the temperature and bitter taste, frowning to himself and dumping the tea.

maybe he should get dressed before making his tea.

popping an apple slice into his mouth, he takes a seat at the couch and puts his socks on, struggling a bit as he rolls his tight jeans up his legs. he pads back into the kitchen and brings the rest of his apple into the living room, holding a slice in his mouth as he shoves his feet into his boots, pulling the zipper on the backs.

grabbing his bag from the table, minghao finishes the rest of his apple and quickly scribbles something on a sticky note, sticking and unsticking it from his finger as he heads towards the door, digging his keys out of one of the pockets of his satchel.

he steps out of his apartment and locks the door. in his attempt to shove his keys back into his satchel, he drops them on the floor, and the jingle followed by a thump seems like a bomb going off in the quiet hallway. as he bends down to pick them back up, he hears the familiar voice from down the hall.

"shit, shit, shit, shit, no! i dodged, you fucking fuck! what the fuck,"

minghao shakes his head slightly and makes his way down the hall, pressing the sticky note to the door of the stranger's home.

minghao never did understand the point of swearing. what did it do for a person?

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dancinghobi IM BLAMING YOU FOR THIS