Chapter 39
Jin's pair of displeased amethyst eyes were scorching with rarity as he battled against the two playful umbra eyes that have been boring a hole to his forehead for a few minutes now, planting an infestation inside his head.
Not to mention, he forgot to mention the unforgettable shameless and brazen attack of his intrusive hand.
They both stared at each other, with silence as their enemy. He was displaying his annoyance against Hiro's rather irritating late teenage hormones and oh, boy, he had enough strength stored inside him to glare at the once respected man he knew, returning the daggers he once shot towards him as he gently brush away his hand from the top of his thigh.
He shudders momentarily upon the feel of his skin, but as he tried pulling his hand off him, Hiro tightens his grip instead.
Gah!
Attempting again, he still wouldn't budge, not even an inch. His grip on him was caged firm.
He takes back his words about him being formal, stern, preserve, and everything else from his appraisal. The list is too long to think through one by one. He felt his world was on the edge of collapsing. Why is he acting this way?
"I don't know what you mean, Sir, but certainly you can't," even when he knew there are no chances, he continues to struggle from his grip.
Sir?
Hiro's left brow arches in humor.
Leaning on his back, he lifts his free hand, spreading his fingers towards his mouth, brushing and blocking the smile that's starting to emerge from his lips as he looks down at the little creature before him. It never crosses his mind to let him be now that he's in his grasp.
He can live with this.
Even his inner demons were in awe at the sight of his feisty behavior trapped inside his small frame. He finds it utterly intriguing.
How is that possible?
If he's not mistaken, was that a no he heard from him? "Why not?"
Jin caught the sight of his unnerving smile and he groans. How can he forget? He's not just mercurial but he's also persistent.
He doesn't know what he's up to, but oh, how he loved to wipe off that cheeky smile of his.
He admits he was terrified.
He thought a man like him wouldn't bear to step on areas seemingly below his level and certainly, he never heard of them discussing this.
He thought his purpose was just to take a quick sneak peek on his phone—that of course, he thought would run thoroughly with him staying and waiting inside the car while he'll change for a minute in their apartment and get his phone to him as promised.
Maybe it's . . .
No.
He prayed to all the saints for a minute, hoping this last assumption of his was wrong, "Did my mother ever approve of this?"
If that's the case, he believes he can't do anything about it, but how come he was never informed? Jin checks his phone for chances, but no, he hasn't received any messages. His mother never notified him.
The auspicious man beside him squeezed his thigh, calling out for his attention as his heaven-sent smile dropped. His eyes turned glacial at the sight of the device.
"She probably will, later." Why is he on his phone? His lips thinned, whereas Jin's lips parts and his jaw hangs open.
Mwo!?
He's not kidding, right?
His subconscious shakes his head in reply whilst Hiro's response replayed inside his head.
He felt his world finally crumble apart after holding it in long enough.
He's inviting himself into their house without notice. He didn't even check this morning if his room was groomed or if there wasn't any misplaced underwear on sight.
Then there's Mochi . . . Mochi!
'And don't forget your entitled best friend,' his subconscious rolls his eyes, and his jealous tone was distractingly ringing at the back of his head.
Crap.
Lost in thoughts and unaware of his surrounding, Jin was absentminded. His head had flown beyond the earth's surface and Hiro took advantage of his preoccupied self by intrusively snatching the device from his frozen hand, sliding the lock screen upwards, and placing the camera below Jin's priceless distracted face. He was extra careful for him not to notice his movements. Once he successfully opened the device through face ID, he finds his way to his gallery, freely browsing on his Photos.
His eyes brighten at the sight. It was more than what he needed for surviving.
He likes this.
Jin's face was everywhere in just a press away.
Incredible device. What model is this?
It's smaller compared to his very own. He flips it momentarily, and he saw what he believed were 'stickers' from mortal knowledge, splattered everywhere on his clear case.
Interesting…
He flips the device again and his itchy fingers couldn't restrain themselves anymore from scrolling upwards.
Would this little man be 'on' for a wage of exchanging phones? Hiro's brows knit, struggling from a dilemma. Would he?
"What are you doing?"
Coming into his senses, the first thing Jin noticed was the absence of his phone from his hands and when he glances over to his left, he was stunned and horrified at the same time to see it from the grasp of the last person he believed would have an ounce of interest towards his personal belonging.
He flinches upwards, rising from his seat into action, ready to pull his phone back, but the car suddenly passes through a huge hump and Hiro was fast enough to cover Jin's head with his other hand, horrified for dear life in a short span of seconds.
"Careful," He softly scolds, glaring towards the front seat.
Zien hiccups. What did he do?
"I believe you have something that belongs to—"
Jin paused when his eyes caught what was displayed on his phone screen—what Hiro has been staring at.
The full view of the image was on high brightness, an eyesore he's horrified of seeing. All the blood rushes towards his face as he snatches back his phone from the hands of his intruder.
'A handsome intruder,' his subconscious butts in, wriggling his brows. Rrrrr~
He shakes the thought away as his heart pounded nervously inside his ribcage. No! He's not supposed to see that!
No one should!
The car stops and he was never been thankful for such perfect timing the heavens blessed him.
He hurriedly moves to open the car door from his side, grabs his bag, and ran towards the entrance, never once looking back nor has shut the door behind him. He bowed for a second towards Mrs. Yen on the front desk, who's startled by his presence, then resumed his escape.
The elevator was closing, yet he expertly makes his way in with the help of his little shape.
What greeted him inside was a man in his late thirties holding hands with his eight years old son, and their familiar startled faces causes a smile to erupt from his lips, he waves at the small boy and bows at the man with him.
After the distraction was over.
He leans his back against the elevator walls, silently panting and a little proud of what he did.
Oh, but how could he face that man again without pushing himself more to embarrassment?
And he doesn't know his reaction to his rudeness, he's not supposed to run away and leave their guest be, but what Hiro did was more awful.
He covers his face with both of his hands, cringing, unbothered by the other people staying with him in the elevator.
Of all people why him?
That was a picture of him in a yukata at their Japanese play in middle school.
He moans internally in agony.
The hair clips, oh the irritating and downright humiliating hair clips.
The worst part was not informing that man what the photo was about and the fact that their president had forced the role on him. His traumatizing memory of it is to die for.
Yet it was his embarrassment that made it so unforgettable. He remembered it so vividly.
That time, he played as the concubine of the lost merchant.
Damn, he should have explained and stayed calm instead of escaping. It haunts him what Hiro thinks about what he saw—what he thinks of him, now.
The elevator doors open and with defeated shoulder and arms, he makes his way out, downhearted as the elevator closes behind him. He's left alone in the quiet and empty hallway.
He sniffs.
No, he can't cry on this one, too, wouldn't he? His steps slowed down and he rubs his eye. When he lifts his head, he stops.
Two familiar dark and alarmed eyes gawked back at him from in front of their apartment door.
Hiro?
His eyes widen in surprise.
How did he . . .