Behind the Mask - Hyunjin x reader

A sharp, pulsing pain in my brain was the first thing I registered when I opened my eyes. 

My brows furrowed as I blinked against the morning light, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

Yep, this definitely wasn't my bed. 

Panic crept in as I sat up too fast, immediately regretting it when the world blurred in front of me. I winced, groaning as a sharp pain pierced through my head. 

Oh, fuck.

Before I could fully spiral, the sound of a door opening caught my attention.

Standing in the doorway, hair slightly damp like he had just showered, and wearing a plain black t-shirt and sweats, was my nemesis. A glass of water and what looked like painkillers were in his hand.

- You're awake, he said simply, stepping further inside.

- Yeah, no shit. 

A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips, but it was gone just as quickly. He set the water on the nightstand, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

- How much do you remember?

I shut my eyes, letting out a groan.

- Enough.

He hummed, pushing off the wall.

- Then you know you don't have to be embarrassed about anything, he said, as if reading my mind.

I scoffed, finally reaching for the water and taking a sip.

- That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who got wasted and cried like a pathetic bitch.

I half expected him to tease me for it, and say something like 'yeah, you kinda were a mess.' But instead, his voice was soft when he replied.

- You weren't pathetic. You were just... right. 

I froze. My grip tightening around the glass.

- What? 

Hyunjin exhaled, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

- Last night... you said you hated me.

My stomach twisted.

- Yeah, well. Alcohol tends to do that to you, I muttered, looking anywhere but at him.

- But you weren't wrong, he said, taking a step closer.

Where was he going with this. 

- I should've been there, he continued. For you. For Jisung. I fucked up.

A bitter laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

- You think?

He didn't flinch. Didn't snap back. He just stood there. 

The silence stretched.

Then, quietly. So quietly I almost didn't hear it, he said it:

- I missed you.

I stared at him, the words hitting me in a way I wasn't prepared for.

I wanted to believe him. And I almost did. But that would mean opening old wounds, and I wasn't sure I wanted that any more than it was already hurting right now. 

So instead, I set the glass down and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

- Thanks for letting me crash here, I said, my voice detached. But I should go.