Amalgamation

CHAPTER THREE

"Suga!" I yell.

It is past time for me to be at work and yet I cannot find my brush for the life of me. I am not the kind of person that leaves things scattered about, and my house is rarely ever a mess, so I am all too mystified by its sudden disappearance. He isn't answering me and I begin to grow impatient. I hop back into the living room whilst attempting to put my shoes on only to find the man seated on the couch watching television.

"Have you seen my brush anywhere?" I ask him.

"I threw it away," he says nonchalantly.

"You what?" I screech.

My naturally curly brown hair is a literal birds nest right now and the very thought of just throwing it up into a messy bun makes my scalp itch. I growl in irritation but ultimately do just that. It isn't as if I have another choice.

"Get ready!" I yell at Suga who remains plastered to my couch. "I know that I told you last night you'd be coming to work with me from now on!"

"I already am!" he snarls, annoyance ringing clear in his voice.

I sigh. Despite the fact that I went out and bought him a full wardrobe he refuses to wear anything aside from the one striped shirt and the same pair of jeans. And even though he hasn't attempted to leave the apartment he has been a living nightmare. He's almost burnt down the apartment, twice. He's constantly got the worst attitude. Throwing my brush away was just the icing on the shitty proverbial cake that is my life recently.

I take deep breaths, trying to calm down despite the knowledge that I am already late to work. I hate being late, tardiness is a huge pet peeve of mine. "I need to calm down," I tell myself. "I need to be understanding."

I do my best to remind myself that he is troubled, that it probably isn't even anything personal. "He's been hurt, he's scared. He's been hurt, he's scared. You would be too," this has become my personal mantra over the last few days. I like to consider myself a patient person, but that patience has been on extremely thin ice of late. 

The fact that it takes us another thirty minutes just to get out the door irritates the daylights out of me. Not that Suga seems to care. But as I plug my headphones into my mp3 player I do my best to ignore his attitude. He really doesn't seem to like that. For the entirety of our ten-minute wait at the bus stop, he attempts to get my attention and for exactly nine minutes and forty-eight seconds he fails. I know because I measure the time in the number of songs I am able to ignore him for. My favorite part is coming up, the line in which I will finally be able to hear Xiumin's angelic voice when Suga snatches the headphones right out of my ears. I see red.

"What was that?" I shout in irritation.

"Your shitty music was hurting my ears," he snarls.

I am immediately offended. "I'll have you know that it is not shitty music. You just have no taste!" I say, sticking my tongue out. I mentally slap myself for my childish behavior, what am I, four?

Before he can retort with some smartass comeback the bus arrives, much to my relief. I don't even want to think about what may have happened, what I might have done, had it not. And yet I am softened considerably as I notice just how uncomfortable he looks as we board the bus. All eyes are upon him as we enter and I know, from the judgemental glances that he receives, that they are paying special attention to his lack of a collar. I will the bus driver not to question him about his papers, I cannot believe I forgot about such a crucial detail.

In my rush to get to work, I decided to use the bus, hoping to make up for lost time. It might have been better if I hadn't. I wrap my arm around his, holding firm when I sense his discomfort, and luckily the bus driver says nothing. No one, however, stands to allow us to sit. So we stand. We are pushed to the back of the bus by the lack of available seating and not a moment after we have found a space with enough room for two he is pulling away from me forcefully. There's a furious frown upon his face as he snaps at me.