I wake up to soft touches on my head. Fingers moving my baby hairs out of the way. An even breathing rhythm against my skin.

"We're here," Minho says quietly. "We've arrived at your house."

I groan as everything come back to me. I'd rather stay lying against his side forever instead of moving. Instead of having chances I'm being watched. Asleep, I wouldn't be able to tell.

But sadly, I nod and get out of the car in a slow pace. Minho follows behind me, attempting to take the flowers out of my hands once we're standing on the ground.

I pull back, scowling. Hopefully he gets that I'm doing my best to joke at least a little bit. "Hey, those are mine now." 

"For sure. But I can carry them."

"Alright." I push them in his hands. "I'll just get my suitcase." Because I want to go inside as fast as I can.

"No. I'll take both. The flowers and the suitcase," he insists.

"You'll crush my flowers."

"Then you take the flowers and I take the suitcase." A smile forms as he tilts his head to the side. "Deal?"

I take the flowers as well as the other presents he got me and walk inside. My wish to just walk straight upstairs is not going to be fulfilled, I already know. Amina is going to interfere and it would be a little rude to disappear straight inside my room.

Thinking about how I'm thinking that makes me realize the camp has changed me. Perhaps my behavior isn't perfect—I don't want it to be—but before the camp, I would have vanished upstairs without giving a single fuck.

Though Minho is kind of the only reason I want to have a little life in me at home. It's good he came with.

"Oh, there you guys are. I just finished making tea," Amina greets. She enters the hallway, her hair up in a bun. Because it's so long, some strands have fallen out.

Her hair is so similar yet so different from Jennifer's. They both have black hair to their waist, but Jennifer's hair is silky and straight, and Amina's hair is less shiny with curls. Both beautiful, though.

Part of me wishes it was there I would be staying right now. At Minho's home.

I love my Dad, but he's so... Dad-ish. Like a typical father who barely understands feelings and never ever cries. Hiram wouldn't understood better. That doesn't mean I'd replace my father, but in some cases, other people are better.

Amina I'd replace with Jennifer.

"How are y— oh, a new guest!" At first, Amina's face fills with confusion. Her thick brows furrow a bit and her lips part. Then her face lights up, probably at Minho's dazzling smile. "Who might this be?"

He shakes her hand. "Minho. Lelia's boyfriend."

Hm. Someone mentioned 'I dislike them because you do'?

Well, dislike is a big word, but he certainly doesn't sound as thrilled as with Dad.

"Lovely," she says, then walks back into the kitchen. I slip my hand into Minho's so I can pull him with me. His palm is cool against mine. Nearly wraps around my whole hand. Sends some sort of shock over me. A nice shock.

I lead him into one of the kitchen chairs before I sit down myself. Slowly, I've figured that if I just act normal, I'll feel better, too. I'll forget about the pictures.

Amina gives both of us a cup of tea, along with herself and Dad. When we're all sitting at the table, it's pretty awkward.

"So how was the camp?" Amina asks.

"Fine," I say.

"Are the people fun?"

"Yeah."

"Is it very strict?" She tries, in the desperate hope I will give some more details. But I don't feel like talking right now.

"Sometimes."

"Are—"

"Sorry, Lelia and I are a bit tired from everything that has happened. The beds they gave us were so uncomfortable, and there were a lot of mosquitos, things like that... that's why we returned," Minho lies. "So, I don't mean this to be rude, but I think it's better if we talk tomorrow... or the day after that... or just never."

Since when can he be polite, by the way? Kidding.

"Oh, that's okay." Amina smiles softly. "Go rest all you want."

Dad clears his throat. Points at Minho. "I still don't agree with him sleeping in your room the first day he arrives. I don't know him well enough."

"But I do," I defend. "Where else would he sleep? Lyndon's room is freaking toxic because of all the paint by now and he deserves privacy."

"As if Lyndon would have anything to hide in his room," Dad says, managing a small laugh with it. "But alright, you have a point. I'll think about it."

At the hiding part, I realize my room is an absolute mess. Things must be rotting. Empty bottles and maybe even pills. Things I don't want Minho to see.

"Actually," I start, "I agree. But I do want him in my room the second night."

Satisfied, Dad nods.

Amina raises an eyebrow. "But where will he sleep? The bathtub?"

Okay. I hope this means she supports Minho sleeping in my room the first night, too. If that's so, it's an improvement.

"Wouldn't be the first one," Dad says.

Oh, God. Of course he had to blurt that out.

Heat rises in my face, revealing a deep red. I would've choked had the tea still been in my mouth. "Eh." I look at Minho, who doesn't seem offended but for sure curious. "Stories for other days. If you don't mind, I'm gonna go now."

Quickly, I rush up the stairs, fearful for Minho being left alone with Dad and Amina, yet relieved I have time to clean.

I open the door to my room, and yes, it's a fucking mess.

But yes, Amina didn't secretly clean it and organize everything wrong!

I grab a big plastic bag to put all my garbage in. I find empty pizza boxes, plastic bottles that have been filled with drinks before, papers, and so much more. I drop the bottles of alchohol I had been hiding in the bag too, as well as some loose pills I see on the ground. I don't doubt I'll find more pills below all those piles of clothes, though.

"Hm. Cozy."

I automatically jump towards the door at Minho's voice. He stands there, smirking, eyes trailing over my room. "Thought you were organized."

"Not before I went to the camp," I say, cheeks red. "You're not supposed to see this. Will you survive another... three hours downstairs?"

"No. I'll help you."

"That really isn't necessary—"

But he has already taken another bag and is picking things he for sure knows is garbage up. "What a waste to buy all these designer clothes and then smash them on top of each other on the ground."

"Don't act like I couldn't see your chair full of laundry."

He rolls the eyes that are full of amusement, then starts (trying) to fold my clothes. He holds some things up, muttering, "Cute" or "Hot" or whatever. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach and tell him to just work.

"You should really learn how to accept compliments," he says.

"Thanks, then," I murmur, too busy grabbing more pills and an old toothbrush off the floor.

"That was lame," he comments. "If you can't be grateful in words, show it physically."

Just when I put the toothbrush in the trash, he's in front of me. "Take the advice?"

With a roll of my eyes, I press my lips to his. And just like that, the annoyance is gone and I'm, well, hypnotized at the way his lips feel. Same must be for him, because he doesn't stop; his hands reach for my waist to push me down onto my bed.

Unfortunately, there's a crack below me, and I cringe. "I think that was chips," I whisper, eyes still from the kiss.

His laugh is clearly audible. And clearly the most beautiful sound ever. "Okay. Good motivation to make you clean? Your bed will be free to kiss on?"

"Mhm," I hum, laughing. "If you'd get off me so I can continue cleaning."

"Yeah, yeah." He lets go of a snicker, too. Then we really are back at it, both throwing things in the trash, running wipes across surfaces, hanging clothes in my closet, vacuuming, and organizing shit I didn't even knew I had.

I find a Polaroid picture of me and my old girl friends. I remember it being straight after an argument— I can tell by the clothes. A girl in my friend group accidentally wore the same shirt as the other one. They got pissed at each other instead of liking it, and made the whole group turn against each other. Yet we catfished, because we figured we looked good and needed a picture.

Biting my lip, I rip the picture apart and throw it away. Minho looks up at the sound. "What was that?"

"A picture of friends I no longer talk to," I tell him. The next picture is one of my and Lyndon, catching fireflies like we'd do every summer. Another one with him when we're swimming. And then both grumpy we had to go on a walk in the mountains. A fourth picture of us playing in a river. And like a thousand more.

I nearly start crying, so I quickly put them in a box, which I shove under my bed.

☀︎︎

My room is finished, and it looks good.

My 'get ready dresser' is all clean. The lights that are connected with the big mirror are on. We have organized my makeup and other products. Minho was visibly surprised at the amount of hair dyes I had.

Then I spent a full ten minutes teasing he must be jealous of all my gel, combs, and hair products. He denied, denied, denied.

And then asked which brand of gel I prefer.

My bed is made, with fresh sheets and all. Since my walls are a lila color, the little white and purple squares on my sheets match. I have a million pillows we stacked in a beautiful way, even though we know it's gonna be ruined later on.

My closet and dressers are nice and organized. My floor for once is empty, revealing the soft gray carpet. My window allows you to look at a part of the neighborhood and the corn fields.

After complimenting my room, Minho plops down on my bed. "Am I gonna know what guys have slept in your bathtub?"

"I don't know their names," I say, almost too casually.

"I guess I'll take that as a good sign."

I spin around to look at him. "You should, yes."

"And am I gonna know how you're feeling right now?"

A shrug as my head lowers. "A little better, but certainly not happy somewhat our whole friend group saw those pictures. I mean, I'm very grateful they helped remove them, but you know..."

"Would it help if I tell you I've lost count on how many times one of us got drunk and somehow ended up naked?"

I stare at him. No way that's true. "Yeah, sure."

"I swear! We're all seen each other naked at least once. No shame, we're all the same. Woah, that rhymed."

I squint my eyes. "Uh, I guess that's somehow reassuring. Even with the different circumstances."

"And I'm sure they didn't mind seeing that blessing," he adds. Then there is a longer pause. "Was that too inappropriate?"

"No." Out of nowhere, I start laughing. Louder than I have in weeks. "But don't say you enjoyed seeing that shit."

"Not with the circumstances." He holds his hands in the air. "Does it also help if I tell you you're so pretty in general? Like, just your face already is amazing."

"You're a cheesy flirt."

"No cheesier than that molded pizza you had."

I pull a face in disgust. "Don't remind me, gosh."