The Unwanted Haircut
"Do you have any decency whatsoever?"
It was like someone turned on the football stadium lights right in front of my face. I groaned and turned over, away from the wretched lights of evil, mumbling, “Do you have any decency whatsoever?” I pulled the duvet over my head, blocking out the light.
“Heh,” I heard. The voice sounded pissed. “Do I have any decency? Do I have any decency? Why don’t you crawl your ass out of bed and talk to me about decency!”
That’s Minho’s angry voice. I recognized it now. I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this. And this headache wasn’t helping.
“Key get out of the bed!”
Okay, now he’s pissed. What did I do? “This better be good, Minho,” I warned, as I flipped the duvet off of me, squinting at the light. Damn I need something for this headache. “I am not in the mood for this sh-“
I see the light. And it burns.
Minho stood there in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. That’s not what made the words on my tongue vanish. His hair was a wreck. A disaster. It looked like something a five-year-old girl would do to her doll just because it was amusing to see the hair fall to the ground.
“What in the hell happened to your head?” I asked, my headache subsiding temporarily since I had something other than it to concentrate on. “Actually, more like, who in the hell gave you a horrible haircut? I’d fire that stylist pronto.”
He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Why don’t you look in the mirror?”
I blinked a couple of times and scoffed. “Excuse me?” I asked, not believing this atrocity. “I would never, ever, give you such a horrible excuse of a haircut.” I walked toward him, fingering the locks of hair that were still on his head. “In fact, I’d probably be more inclined to grab a can of mousse and just spike it up or something. Grab a straightener or curler and play around that way with your hair. Why would I do this?”
“You had about four bottles of Soju last night and then you got all lovey dovey with Jonghyun who was also smashed,” he explained, his eyes still full of rage. “Before you know it you were running around with scissors offering people free haircuts.”
I was silent for a moment. This would explain my shying away from the lights overhead and wanting Minho to quiet down. “I take it I offered you one and you said yes?”
He was not amused, as he replied, “No, you offered me a haircut, I declined, and then you started crying, wondering what I did to hate you so for me not wanting a haircut from you. Then, and only then, did I say yes.” He paused. “Biggest mistake of my drunken life.”
“I’ll say,” I agreed, as I looked at his hair. “Was that all you remembered from last night? I don’t remember a thing, clearly.” I messed with his hair, brushing it over the spots that were shorter in length than the other parts. It could work, I think.
“I remembered that, and that Taemin was whining to Onew about eating his burrito that he dropped on the floor,” he mused. “I also remember being in the bathtub with my soccer ball and the tub filled with water, but I don’t remember if that was before or after your haircut.”
I let out a laugh, my head pounding. “What were you doing in the bathtub with your soccer ball?” I asked. Onew eating Taemin’s burrito I could believe, but I didn’t understand Minho’s drunken escapade.
“I think I was imitating blitzball.” I gave him a blank look and he continued on. “It’s a sport in Final Fantasy X. A ball game played underwater.”
“Oh,” I mouthed, nodding. “I get it.” My headache came back in full force and I closed my eyes, groaning.
“Yikes.” He took me by the shoulders and led me to the bathroom. “Let’s get you some medicine for that headache, hm?”
“Heh,” I heard. The voice sounded pissed. “Do I have any decency? Do I have any decency? Why don’t you crawl your ass out of bed and talk to me about decency!”
That’s Minho’s angry voice. I recognized it now. I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this. And this headache wasn’t helping.
“Key get out of the bed!”
Okay, now he’s pissed. What did I do? “This better be good, Minho,” I warned, as I flipped the duvet off of me, squinting at the light. Damn I need something for this headache. “I am not in the mood for this sh-“
I see the light. And it burns.
Minho stood there in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. That’s not what made the words on my tongue vanish. His hair was a wreck. A disaster. It looked like something a five-year-old girl would do to her doll just because it was amusing to see the hair fall to the ground.
“What in the hell happened to your head?” I asked, my headache subsiding temporarily since I had something other than it to concentrate on. “Actually, more like, who in the hell gave you a horrible haircut? I’d fire that stylist pronto.”
He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Why don’t you look in the mirror?”
I blinked a couple of times and scoffed. “Excuse me?” I asked, not believing this atrocity. “I would never, ever, give you such a horrible excuse of a haircut.” I walked toward him, fingering the locks of hair that were still on his head. “In fact, I’d probably be more inclined to grab a can of mousse and just spike it up or something. Grab a straightener or curler and play around that way with your hair. Why would I do this?”
“You had about four bottles of Soju last night and then you got all lovey dovey with Jonghyun who was also smashed,” he explained, his eyes still full of rage. “Before you know it you were running around with scissors offering people free haircuts.”
I was silent for a moment. This would explain my shying away from the lights overhead and wanting Minho to quiet down. “I take it I offered you one and you said yes?”
He was not amused, as he replied, “No, you offered me a haircut, I declined, and then you started crying, wondering what I did to hate you so for me not wanting a haircut from you. Then, and only then, did I say yes.” He paused. “Biggest mistake of my drunken life.”
“I’ll say,” I agreed, as I looked at his hair. “Was that all you remembered from last night? I don’t remember a thing, clearly.” I messed with his hair, brushing it over the spots that were shorter in length than the other parts. It could work, I think.
“I remembered that, and that Taemin was whining to Onew about eating his burrito that he dropped on the floor,” he mused. “I also remember being in the bathtub with my soccer ball and the tub filled with water, but I don’t remember if that was before or after your haircut.”
I let out a laugh, my head pounding. “What were you doing in the bathtub with your soccer ball?” I asked. Onew eating Taemin’s burrito I could believe, but I didn’t understand Minho’s drunken escapade.
“I think I was imitating blitzball.” I gave him a blank look and he continued on. “It’s a sport in Final Fantasy X. A ball game played underwater.”
“Oh,” I mouthed, nodding. “I get it.” My headache came back in full force and I closed my eyes, groaning.
“Yikes.” He took me by the shoulders and led me to the bathroom. “Let’s get you some medicine for that headache, hm?”