Hatred: Nomin

Suspicion: 2

This was wrong.

He looked wrong, the situation was wrong, the words didn't fit, the atmosphere was off, it was all wrong.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Jeno, please."

He looked pleading, desperate... vulnerable.

Na Jaemin isn't vulnerable. Or at least he wasn't. He'd never seemed it. Quite the opposite actually.

"I'm cold. Jeno I'm fucking freezing," his lip quivered. "Please...can I come in?"

Jeno thought it over a few more times. Even trying to say Jaemin's name was leaving a sour taste in his mouth. There is no reason why he should let him in. That is, beside morbid curiosity. It was so unusual Jeno couldn't bring himself to just shut the door and move on without at least some prying. Oh, but he hated that he wanted to know. In that moment, he hated that he hated Jaemin.

With some reluctance, he stepped aside and held the door open.

"Take off your hoody: you're making my floor wet."

***

Jaemin sat at Jeno's kitchen table. He nursed a cup of steaming herbal tea that jeno had placed before him, taking a sip in spite of his instincts screaming that this was the lee Jeno and that he'd probably poisoned it.

It burnt down his throat, but he didn't start frothing at the mouth as he'd expected.

The chill in his fingers had started to thaw, and they were now red and swollen; much like his eyes, which despite having retained some of their sharp aggression to glare at jeno, still looked pitifully sad.

Jeno however, had been interrupted midway through shovelling popcorn in his mouth on a peaceful Thursday evening, or Friday morning so to speak, as the clock ticked into the early hours of the morning. So yes, he was indeed rather pissed.

He perched on his kitchen counter top and stared at Jaemin as though he were dissecting him, picking him apart in his brain, eyebrows furrowed. Jaemin didn't enjoy being observed, much less by Lee Jeno.

Jaemin was still cold, Jeno noticed. His soaking wet hoodie had been shed in favour for his slightly less damp tshirt, and his arms were exposed, goosebumps running up and down.

"Don't you have any family in?" Jaemin quizzed, glancing down the hallway where he'd earlier passed the staircase to the second floor.

Jeno's stare amplified in intensity.

"That's none of your business."

"So you don't."

"I didn't say that."

"You'd be speaking quieter if you did."

"They could be heavy sleepers."

"Exactly. They could be. But they're not, and they're not here." Jaemin smirked.

Oh, Jeno hated him just a little bit more.

"Okay my turn. What the fuck are you doing in my house."

"Drinking tea, in case you hadn't noticed." He gestured to the cup jeno had given him. It was faded but the words 'worlds best dad' were still visible on the side. Jaemin took note of that.

"Cut the crap Na Jaemin. Or I'll kick you out immediately."

Jaemin's wry smile faltered just a tad.

"Why are you at my house at 3am completely alone without a single possession on you."

Jaemin wasn't prepared to answer to an interrogation. He had fitfully and drastically underestimated Jeno's intelligence. You see the thing about Jaemin is that he knew people. No, not in the sense of he was well known or popular (although he was that aswell) but that he understood people, to a frightening degree almost. To Jaemin people were predictable. Like puzzles that were too easy to solve, everyone had a motive for everything and so often were those motives the very simplest he could imagine. So he knew, when he turned up on Jeno's door, dripping wet and a little worn down, the wicked part in Jeno that had invested so much hatred into Jaemin wouldn't be able to resist finding out why, even if it were just to enjoy his suffering. However, what he hadn't accounted for was having to actually explain that suffering, Becuase Na Jaemin, the people person, had completely overlooked how frightfully observant Jeno was, and it came something akin to a slap to the face.