you groaned as you woke up in the unfamiliar bedroom, your head spinning with the lingering influence of alcohol in your system. until the bedroom turned familiar as you sat up and realized what you had done. nobody should ever give you access to alcohol and your phone again—you drunk texted minho.

minho had enough girls come over a week, maybe 4 or 5 out the seven days, most ending up kicked out in the morning, yet somehow you didn’t wake up on the sidewalk. maybe it was the ex lover privilege?

the door opened to a work attire bearing minho, his fingers straightening his tie, no allowed within a foot of him. he turned to you, grimacing at the sight of your disheveled appearance.. disgusting he’d think.

“get up, go to work, and fix that mess won’t you? and gosh, you need a diet, did you go on as depressive episode since we broke up or something? you really lost yourself.”

he shook his head in disappointment, his fingers nonchalantly brushing through his hair as if he didn’t just body shame you knowing your insecurities. he was always like this, hence the break up. he expected perfection, a posh girl, picture perfect and one who’d never think of disagreeing with him.