Chapter Text
sharing a melty ice cream cone between them, a sneaky finger finds its way onto his face, smearing sticky-white vanilla ice cream onto his right cheek. even in this dropping-below-zero degree weather, the two still somehow enjoy a sugary cold delicacy (that somehow melted in that weather, but thats not majorly important). the two? a neon red-haired min yoongi and a faceless man, an inch or so taller, with an orangey-blond (more blond than orange) do, both happily holding hands (and ice cream) as they walked across the crosswalk.
surrounded by very few crowds of people on this obviously-generic-city-street-with-lots-of-snow, yoongi takes to opportunity to return the favor to this faceless stranger. dabbing his left index finger (that should be wearing gloves so he doesn't freeze his large, masculine fingers off) into the cheap mcdonald's ice cream, and splotched it right above the cupid's bow of the stranger.
the faceless man gives a heart-shaped smile, showing his white set of teeth, as he shakes his head and admits defeat. his hands were on yoongi's hips, which were a bit covered by his black winter coat, and yoongi's right hand was tugging onto the waistband of the stranger's black, worn out skinny jeans, which fits him quite snug, showing his sculpted and thick thighs. as inappropriate as this scene might seem, the two were just cozying up to each other, albeit in a teasing manner. so no, this isn't some wet dream.
with a snap of yoongi's (now gloved) fingers, the two were miraculously teleported to a new scene. a table in between them, the two sit in an empty diner, with no staff whatsoever, a cup of coffee in each of their hands, ice cream cones seeming long gone. their table was far from the entrance, as they sat near the entrance of the restrooms. their table was placed in a way where both of them were able to stare at the window without turning their heads a full 90 degrees. they both stared out the window, viewing the beautiful snowy winter scenery, too awkward to stare directly at each other.
yoongi looks down at his arms, then shifts his eyes to look towards the stranger's direction. yoongi's black coat was replaced with a black turtleneck, with sleeves reaching two-thirds of his forearm (which was strange because, as far as yoongi remembers, he doesn't own shirts with sleeves so short). the faceless stranger didn't seem to have anything altered to his appearance, except that his lightweight dark white jacket (that doesn't belong in freezing weather) has come off, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath.
the stranger adverts his warm brown eyes to yoongi, aiming to stare into the blacks of his eyes. breaking eye contact, yoongi shifts his head the other way, staring at the red seat cushions. the man lets out a small chuckle, sounding all calm, amused, and refined all at the same time. lifting a finger to his cheeks, yoongi body heat had definitely increased, probably adding a bit of color to his pale, snowy skin (which doesn't happen often, you'd be surprised).
he hears the stranger sipping his cup of hot cocoa (or some brown liquid), which echoes in the small diner. yoongi lifts his head to look at the white scenery that lies before his eyes. it looked a lot more crowded than it did previously on the streets. much like a movie, people animatedly pass by, kids running up and down the sidewalk, adults all bundled up in their winter gear, avoiding the runways of the children, crowds of teenagers wearing what seems to be in style, with their variety of colorful face masks, everyone passing by the deserted diner. not one is peering through the spacious windows of the very vacant diner.
yoongi takes his turn to sip the brown liquid in the large mug that fits quite well in his hands. coffee. not cocoa, but coffee. not that he's complaining, he prefers the mild, bitter taste of fresh ground coffee over the overly sweet taste of hot cocoa anyways. he takes the chance to take a glimpse at the faceless stranger. not that he's faceless, if yoongi focuses on a specific feature, he would be able to make out a few distinct characteristics. he's able to see him clearly, yet he can't completely see his entire face (if that makes sense).
enjoying the moment, he closes his oddly-already-heavy-lidded eyes. hands still on the mug, he awkwardly tries to locate the diner table, as he repeatedly attempts to set his cup on empty air. this lets out another laugh out of the stranger, which is probably eyeing the moment with much amusement. yoongi couldn't help but feel a bit hot on the inside, warmth filling up his chest, his cheeks probably appearing a bit more colored than ever. he wouldn't know, it feels too heavy to open his eyes. that and where would he find a mirror in moment's notice?
a toasty warm hand takes the cup away from yoongi's 24/7 wintry cold hand, and sets it on the diner table, ending any further embarrassment. as much as yoongi wants to open his eyes, he can't. eyes too heavy. the weight of his body suddenly drags down his shoulders, too tired to support his structure. he falls right back into a deep sleep, right on top of the clean diner table. arms now comforting his head, much like a pillow. a hand separates a few strands of yoongi's neon red hair. the same warm and toasty hand. but soon, that feeling has long gone.
-
"min yoongi!"
waking up with warm cheeks, he violently jerks his head towards the direction of the voice. it turns out, that voice was his roommate's. bumping his head onto seokjin's large forehead, loud yelps comes out of both of their mouths (with seokjin's voice being more vocal, of course, yoongi "barely" makes a sound), with seokjin stumbling onto the inviting floor, yoongi seated on an office chair.
"wake up less violently!"
"it wasn't my fault you were fucking there!"
"min yoongi! ₩1000 into the swear jar!"
quietly grumbling, he gets up from the somewhat stiff office chair, which was stationed at his and his roommate's (mostly his) shared desk. offering his currently whiny roommate a hand, seokjin "politely" denies his help by swatting his left hand at him, right hand nursing his injury from the bump ("why deny his help?" you may ask, truth is, jin is fine on his own. he's not an old man, not now, not ever, even with the white strands of hair that are slowly appearing onto his head of bleach blond hair).
grabbing his new faux leather wallet he recently bought (from daiso) from his desk, he walks his way over to the small nightstand beside his roommate's bed. underneath the nightstand, there was the most holy object of them all, the three-fourths of the way filled, transparent glass swear jar, filled with all of his and seokjin's loose change and regret. the sound of bed springs shocks yoongi, as he was getting ready to do the usual practice of some sort.
"oh, don't mind me," his roommate had jumped onto his bed, lying down on his stomach, a protractor in his hands, and his hair combed down to cover up his ugly injury from the accident earlier. "continue."
as usual, yoongi repectfully bows down to swear jar, 'a full 90 degrees!' as his roommate would say, but of course, it lacked, probably because of his sleep deprivation (*cough cough* finals *cough cough*). seokjin measures the angle of yoongi's bow as he remains still.
"93 degrees! really yoongi? five years! would've thought you'd know how to do this by now!"
yoongi internally groans at the moment, repositioning himself to bow a full 90 degrees, like he and seokjin agreed. not for the first time in his life, he repeatedly reminds himself to not talk back, as seokjin is older than him, even if it's by three months. and unlike most of the people he meets, he actually likes seokjin (not that he would ever say it out loud). so in order to continue staying at seokjin's run-down apartment for less than ₩100000 a month, he must keep his mouth shut.
"perfect! now get out the change!" his roommate cheers as soon as he was done remeasuring his bow.
"i know how it goes."
"well, that's not enough. is that how you bow to your elders?"
"that's how i bow to you." needless to say, he did see that strike from seokjin coming.
"₩2000! get it out!"
"but i didn't swear-"
"just give your offerings to the jar! it's not that hard!"
he looks through his wallet, counting leftover money (so he doesn't lose any more money than he needs to). he picks out two bills that were exactly ₩2000.
he drops in one bill through the slot of the swear jar's lid.
"one" his roommate quietly whispers, probably to himself.
he drops in the other coin through the slot of the swear jar's lid.
"and thats two!" seokjin lets out a hurrah, probably waking up nearby neighbors this late in the night.
speaking of which... yoongi directed his gaze towards the working clock on the wall near the balcony doorway. on the cute, baby pink and out-of-place, modern clock (bought by yoongi's truly, kim seokjin), the hour hand lays a few ticks away from the big 5, with the minute hand landing directly between the small marks from 10 to 11. 4:53.
"why'd you wake me up so early?" yoongi asks, eyes wandering from the pink clock to the balcony doorway, which had the words 'young forever; stay awake' engraved on the top in capital letters.
rustling sounds come from beside him, with a nice, warm hand pulling yoongi's cold ones seconds later. it's pulling him towards the entrance of the balcony. while he was carefully stepping onto the balcony, seokjin takes the opportunity to cover his eyes, making sure to blind yoongi of any light from the sky.
to be honest, yoongi really didn't care about seokjin's surprise, or whatever. really, he was more concerned with stepping onto the balcony. it was an old balcony, as the apartment complex was more than a couple decades old. creaky sounds of aged wood only seems to make yoongi's heart race. it's a small thing, but he always had a fear of falling (falling from balconies, falling from fatigue, falling to the bottom; just falling in general).
"look!" seokjin calls out, particularly to no one else but yoongi, as he removes his hands from yoongi's eyes. blinded no more, yoongi looks towards the sky with his droopy, half-lidded eyes.
wow.
yoongi widens his eyes in surprise. right before the both of them, lies a spectacle that he's never seen in real-life. heck, jin probably never saw something like this in his old age. just like in pictures, a view that isn't unclear or closed off. a strange urge bothers him, an urge to get out a camera, a shitty phone camera, even, but he doubts the quality would be crystal clear.
what lies before them? a large, overhanging moon, an overhanging blood red moon, that shines perfectly onto the balcony of the two. like the moon was reserved just for him. the sky was a dark, yet light, shade of navy blue, which majorly contrasts from the red moon, which, should be mentioned, is halfway through the process of a beautiful lunar eclipse.
unfortunately, the stars weren't there to welcome him this time, as they appeared as though they were long gone, which disappointed him just a bit, as he feels the stars would greatly compliment the fading half moon. a plane passes by, carrying the sounds of noisy engines with them. annoyed, he got distracted from the sight of the moon as his eyes glaringly follows the airplane.
being the very sidetracked child he was, he thought the lights of the passing planes looked pretty. yes, much like a child. focusing his vision on the whole sky, instead of moving air vehicles only, his eyes locate a few lights in the distance, which were near the already-faded-half of the blood moon. imagining the plane lights were the stars, he shuts his pair of eyes, as he gently smiles to himself, holding onto the railways of the balcony. yoongi couldn't help but think this scene was breathtaking for the hundredth time already in such a short amount of time.
"min yoongi! earth to yoongi!"
he cuts away from his thoughts and turns his head to face his roommate. looking at a cross-armed seokjin, he realizes that he was in one of those daydream episodes. again.
"yoongi, this is like the twentieth time this week! you have serious daydreaming problems."
his roommate lets out a weary sigh, as he walks up to be right beside yoongi, placing his left arm on the rail, and his right arm around yoongi. embarrassing as it is, he leans into the touch, making himself feel comfortable in seokjin's big, buff arms, which was thankfully covered by a white and thick fluffy sweater, much like a second pillow.
"don't sleep on me,"
"i won't."
true to his word, yoongi tries to keep his eyes open, not only because of drowsiness, but rather because of risk-of-daydream. keyword: tries. eyes still open, he imagines city lights and airplane light and beautiful moons and stars, wonders how the sky would look with orbs of planets in the mix, wonders how beautiful this would look sitting in a lone bench at a park, wonders what it would feel like sitting next to-
"are you even listening to me, min yoongi?!"
his roommate yanks his arm away from yoongi's hands, which began to firmly hold onto seokjin's arm for dear life. falling backwards onto the old balcony, sounds of creaking were more present than ever. landing on his ass, yoongi snaps out of his previous fantasizing.
"why'd you let me fall?" he whines as he crawled his way towards the insides of their apartment.
"why did you fucking claw your hands onto my arms?! that hurts a lot, you know? besides, you weren't stopping when i asked you to!" seokjin retaliated, with his hands gently rubbing his forearm.
"swear jar."
"i'll get to that later, just be a good roommate and get me an ice pack, will you?"
he grunts, standing up from his position, as he enters the kitchen to get his damn roommate the damn ice pack. rummaging through the unorganized freezer, he tries to find that one gel ice pack that has been living in their freezer for years. his hands wandered pretty much everywhere in that small little box of a freezer, feeling anything that is remotely squishy. mostly, he ended up with bags of frozen food, like that package of frozen tofu he found.
much like everything else in the apartment, the small, blue gel ice pack holds a special place in both his and seokjin's heart. one day, four years ago, his roommate decided to get a stupid tattoo ('it's not stupid,' 'you can't even read the goddamn tattoo.' 'for your information, i'm learning mandarin!'). during the whole inking process, the tattoo artist eyed seokjin the whole time, eyes leaving him for a few seconds to focus on the tattoo, then back on him. yoongi swore he felt the uncomfortable tension in the air, as he sat right across from his roommate, where he was able to sense the uneasiness in his familiar eyes.
on the way home, seokjin held a really cold, blue gel ice pack to the side of his left arm (where the tattoo was located). a really cold, blue gel ice pack with a phone number and a cute message written on the front with a permanent marker.
'xx-xxx-xxxx
i hope i don't weird you out, but i think you're really pretty! please call me~ ><'
it was a cute thing to do, which might've taken a lot of courage to execute, but it doesn't change the fact that it was a boy that gave seokjin his phone number. a boy. it's not that he was against it, it just felt a bit weird at the time, that a boy would like another boy, nonetheless think that they're pretty. to this day, both he and seokjin feel a bit guilty for never calling him back, but they (seokjin) still wave at the windows whenever they pass the tattoo shop, even if they're not entirely sure if the tattoo artist even waves back behind the shop's tinted windows.
"did you find the ice pack yet? i'm dying over here!"
"stop overreacting, hyung, it couldn't have been that bad."
finally detecting the ice pack at long last, he closes the freezer door and runs over to the balcony doorway, just so he could quiet his really noisy, really tiresome roommate, who is probably waking all of the sleeping neighbors on the floor, as well as drawing some attention from outside. and it should be mentioned that yoongi really doesn't want to deal with uneccessary attention from the outside world and noise complaints from the building manager.
carefully sitting down on the creaky and unstable balcony in a criss-cross applesauce position, he places the blue, stiff ice pack onto seokjin's forearm, sweater sleeves out of the way, folded neatly above his elbow. his roommate takes it from there, where he presses the ice pack a bit more firmer on his forearm, which was surprisingly very red with soft, barely visible, crescent shape indented into his skin, something yoongi wasn't aware he was capable of causing.
the ice pack itself, now four years old, still had the permanent marker written message, as well as the phone number. just in a somewhat beat-up condition, the letters and numbers wore off a bit, but it was still possible to make out the numbers and characters, which is honestly a bit of a wonder, considering it was stored in a freezer for years, used more than once as both an ice pack and a heating pack, and, at one point, was used as some sort of stress-relieving toy.
"was tonight really that distracting for you?"
"a bit." yoongi half-heartedly mumbles, looking back down at his own arms.
"a bit?"
"a lot."
"maybe i shouldn't have woken you up-"
"no, i would've woken up anyways."
"eh, you seemed to be in deep sleep."
"is that so?" yoongi shifts from his sitting position to more of a crouch.
"yeah, it must a good one, since you were blushing 'n' everything."
yoongi stares down at the wooden floor, playing with a few almost-chipped-away pieces of wood with his fingers. "o-oh," and he just had to stutter his words.
"what did you dream about?" seokjin curiously asks, probably looking at him with his puppy-like eyes.
"nothing important really..." a complete lie, that dream was practically everything important.
"yoongi~"
"yeah?"
"you know i can read you like a book. that dream is probably the best damn dream ever,"
caught, like always.
"well, fine. i wasn't really dreaming much, dreamt about snowy streets and empty diners. nothing fancy." not a complete lie.
"is that really all?"
"no." he immediately responds, gazing right back at seokjin, which were indeed on full puppy-like display.
"...shit." he curses at himself, curling up into a ball.
"so there was something more! why were you blushing? you've never looked so burnt up,"
"look, it's nothing exciting-"
"but you're yoongi! everything about you is exciting!" seokjin pouts, as he crosses his arm, face all puffed up.
yoongi couldn't help but let out a snigger at his roommate's exaggerated actions, it's all just so... jin.
"after all, yoongi, i've known you for as long as an onion is old!"
"what?"
"five years!" he laughed his signature window-wiping service laugh.
"i walked into that one didn't i?"
"yeah, yeah! you did!" he cackles at his own joke, idiotically clapping his hands and leaning onto yoongi for support.
yoongi exhales, feeling a mix of exhaustion and irritation for having to deal with the terrible dad jokes that don't make sense in translation and squeaky, high-pitched laughs on a daily basis. he continues picking at the wood chips on the floor, fidgeting with the almost-broken string of wood, his body trying its best to hold up the heavy monstrosity that is jin.
oops. it was bound to happen. examining closely at his finger, yoongi identifies a wood splinter that had dug into his skin. looking at it from all angles, he firmly touches the splinter, possibly pushing the wood much deeper into his skin.
"yoongi!"
facing his roommate, who has stopped his squeaky window-cleaning service, he lets out his hand, just so his roommate could examine his 'very major' injury (every injury seemed major to jin). after all, he would be the person to literally beg until he gets what he wants, which includes patching up injuries, so yoongi definitely skipped a few steps by offering seokjin his hand.
"you shouldn't have been playing with wood, that's really dangerous," he says as he closely inspects yoongi's hand. yoongi gives him his signature grunt in response.
on the tip of his ring finger on his left hand, there was a thin, long splinter that already seemed to be way too deep into his skin.
"let's go inside, so i can get you all patched up."
-
the reason why they were outside in the first place was left forgotten.
with the help of their helpful desk lamp, seokjin pokes the ends of a sewing needle into yoongi's skin, as he attempts to get out the splinter by looping it through the eye, which should hopefully squeeze it out.
"fuck," his roommate says, as he lost track of the splinter once again.
"every. single. time." seokjin mutters under his breath, poking the needle a bit deeper into yoongi's skin.
even if he wasn't speaking to him, yoongi hums in response, as he repositions his body on the uncomfortable kitchen chair.
"stay still, or else we're gonna be here all night."
"it's..." he takes a glimpse at the microwave clock, which presented it's neon green numbers. "5:19."
"shit, we better finish this quick,"
"there's still lots of time."
"for you. i have a shift at the grocery store in about 60."
"still tons of time." yoongi relieves his heavy eyelids, which has experienced a lifetime in this one night.
"ha- i haven't even done anything, yet." he scoffs, shifting yoongi's hand towards a different direction. "you know how long it takes for me to prepare."
"yeah."
tons of needle-poking and lots of internal yelps later, most of the splinter was finally out. a few remaining specks of wood still remained under yoongi's skin, but as stated before, mostly all of the splinter was out. and that was good enough.
both of them lazily sat down in the confined, wooden (fortunately sanded and protected from any splinters) kitchen chairs. not wanting to move up the heavy weight of their bodies, or wanting to lay down on their more-inviting-than-ever bed, they faced the direction of the balcony doorway. the two (seokjin) mainly looked at the words, 'young forever; stay awake', that were carved on the top of doorway, which were practically taunting them for no reason.
"why am i awake, again?" he asks, now interested in his forehead for some reason, which were covered by his almost eye-level bangs.
"why am i not getting ready for work?" his roommate rhetorically asks, right hand clutching the side of his head, left hand fiddling with the you-thought-i-forgot-about-it ice pack, which has already melted by then, all squishy and deformed.
"why am i awake?"
"i dunno, cool sky, pretty moon?"
"is the eclipse done, yet?"
seokjin's gaze landed towards the window next to the closed balcony doors, which was open for him to see out of.
"yep,"
"dang, i wish i got out my camera."
"the moon's still red, if you wanna take pictures of that."
"but the eclipse was beautiful. without it, the red moon just feels plain."
"i took a few photos on my phone if you wanna see,"
"nah, phone quality is shit quality."
they sat in an un-awkward silence, with yoongi weirdly stroking his forehead with the knuckles of his fingers (eyes closed) and seokjin still fidgeting with the melty gel, former ice pack.
"so what did you dream about." his roommate asks, disrupting the comfortable silence.
"... it's silly." yoongi responds after a short while, eyes still closed.
"it can't be that bad. 'member that time i dreamt about being an ordained minister?"
"oh yeah, that was shit was hilarious."
"right? marrying two dudes and a girl together was one heck of an experience,"
the two quietly chuckles, remembering an infamous dream episode that still lives on in the kim-min household.
"weird how your brain got the idea,"
"what'd you mean?"
"i mean... considering gay marriage is illegal-"
"yoongi. i just married two guys and a girl together. i married three goddamn people together. shouldn't you be more concerned 'bout that?"
"really, i'm just concerned about you."
"you keep saying that, yoongi."
seokjin gets up from his seat and goes around the table to go up to the seat that's right next to yoongi.
"mind if i sit here?"
"it's your house,"
getting the cue, he pulls out the chair and seats his bottom down on the wooden slab. he scoots his chair a bit more to be closer to the table, emitting a deafening sound, which makes yoongi wanna throw the chair out from the balcony (but he resisted, don't worry).
"you're not dodging any bullets in my house," seokjin adjusts his body, probably to stare at him, making him succeed in feeling hot or something. "also, why are you even rubbing your forehead? that looks really weird, you know?"
yeah, he knew, but he just grunted out in response, as he sets down his arms on the kitchen table, arms feeling a tad tired.
"you should use your mouth yoongi, 'cause sometimes i just feel like i'm talking to a brick wall..."
"to answer your questions, it just felt right, i'm aware, and i'm using my mouth right now, aren't i?"
"well, if you can use your mouth, then answer the goddamn question i asked you like, fifteen minutes ago,"
"the dreams one?"
"no, the one about your trip to e-world. of course the dreams one!"
"gee, no need to get so worked up."
interlacing his fingers together, yoongi half-way opened his heavy eyelids, which made his eyelashes look feather-like (according to jin), as he stares down at the aforementioned mentioned interlaced fingers.
"i dreamt about someone."
"what'd you do with them?"
"we ate ice cream and drank hot coffee."
"there's more to it," his roommate scoots his chair a bit closer to yoongi's, being too close for granted.
"yes- wait," played again.
seokjin repeatedly bangs his hands on the table as he lets out a high pitched squeak, over and over again. like their younger, kookie, had joked, the sound of window wiping galore.
"fuuuuuuck."
"'think before you speak', heard about that, min?"
yoongi grumbled some hushed out words, as he glares at seokjin's too-damn-prideful smirk.
"what was that, yoongi? speak up,"
"...what does it mean to dream about boys?"
"what?!" his roommate half-yelled, cupping his hand behind his ear.
"what does it mean to have dreams with boys in them?!"
"gee, no need to get so worked up!" seokjin overly exaggerates, now standing up with hands on his hips and another pout on his face, much like a child.
"it's not my fault..." yoongi muttered, his heavy hand in his large, but not large enough, hands. his warm cheeks came into contact with his cold, cold hands, which made him shiver a bit at the touch.
"but," his roommate pauses for effect, as he dramatically points a finger towards yoongi, making him freeze on the spot. "who was the boy to you, hmm?"
yoongi shrugs his shoulders 'idk', a movement that would've gone unnoticed if it weren't for the not-yet-turned-off desk lamp.
"who was the boy? was it a stranger? was it a colleague? was it kookie?"
he timidly shakes his head to indicate that, no, he was certain it wasn't any of these. maybe a stranger, but in his dream, he acted far too close with the person to consider him someone unknown. maybe it was a colleague, but none of his coworkers at any of his workplaces even looked or acted remotely like that nameless face. he was certain it wasn't jungkook. not only did he not look like the boy in his dreams, but kookie would never act that way. ever. (or at least not to him or seokjin).
"was it a... boyfriend~" his roomie annoyingly stretched out 'boyfriend', as a means to taunt the hell out of yoongi.
he couldn't help, but admit, that 'bingo! that's correct, have a bag of honey twist snacks or thirty-two'. that would be the definite way of describing the boy in his dreams. who else would smother yoongi's face with sticky, gooey ice cream (and get away with it)? who else would hold his hands like that (definitely not like bros)? obviously not some colleague, or kookie, or seokjin (maybe jin).
yoongi groans in defeat, butting his head against his hands, which later transitioned into bumping his head into the dark brown, badly-done wood stained dining table. jin, always one to laugh, chokes on air, as well as his own saliva, as attempts to his breath after laughing so hard that he surely woke everyone up on their floor.
"so-" he coughs, reaching for an almost-empty glass of water, undoubtedly yoongi's from the night before, that was near their unraveling fruit basket.
after taking a sip, seokjin's nearly back to his old self (post yoongi's awakening), as he straightens his back and clears his throat.
"so who is it?"
"no idea."
"how'd you not know who you were dating?" he looks back at yoongi in disbelief.
"like i know my subconscious."
"so, what did you do with the guy?" his roommate asks him in a put on, oh-so-teasing tone.
"get your mind outta the gutter. we did nothing."
"nothing?" his roomie asks, aiming to "fish out" yoongi's answers, like he did before.
"nothing with all capitals." he blankly stated.
welp. seokjin lets out a dull (or relieved, they sound the same on jin) sigh, as he knows fully well that when yoongi can't hook in answers from himself, he can't fish it out.
"i'm gonna get ready, 'kay?"
yoongi waves his hand in a circular motion, signing seokjin to continue talking.
"go back to what you were doing,"
"what was i doing before?"
"go back to studying, or sleeping, or something. sleeping on an old dining table can give you a hunched back."
"okay." he mindlessly replies' laying his arms down on the table.
"go back to your bed at least,"
"'kay." he sets his head down on his arms, too lazy to spur out another syllable.
seokjin awkwardly runs his fingers through his bangs, sets down the melted gel pack on the table, as he then retreats to the bathroom.
"by the time i get outta this bathroom, you better be on your side of the room!" he warned as soon as the chipped, painted-white bathroom door closed shut.
yoongi lazily makes his way towards his own bed, which didn't nearly look as inviting as his desk. he stops midway to his bed, mainly to peer at what he was studying the night before. as much as professionals say sleeping after studying would help improve your memory, he didn't remember a single thing about what he was studying about.
there was a book placed on top of his desk's bookshelf. if yoongi remembers correctly, it certainly wasn't there when he studied his ass off- he takes a peek at the pastel pink clock. 5:29.- four hours ago. he picks up the book, not thinking much of it, as he drags his fingers across the spine of the book.
it was an old book of jin's, which had the words, 'constantin stanislavski' and 'an actor prepares, typed onto a semi-transparent blue circle, with an aged pair of hands in a light lemony-colored background. there were sticky notes and bookmarks sticking out everywhere on the torn-up, paperback book, along the top of the pages and the sides of the pages.
he was a curious cat. he has always been one since he was barely into college. he indents his nails on some page with a very interesting bookmark. how could he not resist that bookmark? the page-marker was placed on near the end side of the top pages, where it was away from all the other cute bookmarks all bundled up on the end near the spine. a pretty pink marker with an illustrated dog outlined and sticking out, looking all puffy and fluffy, all blank and whatnot. not only did the bookmark not only yell 'important' to yoongi, being far away from all of the other overcrowded bookmarks, but the dog's too cute to look away from. it didn't help that the puppy looked a lot like his dog, holly, back at home. so yoongi turns to the page, 'cause satisfaction sure does bring him back.
a series of messy, lined post-it notes that almost covered the entire page on the left. upon lifting the sticky notes, it was revealed that the paragraphs of page 167 were all in english, so it doesn't take a walking encyclopedia (or something like that) to figure out that the post-it notes were the korean translations. on page 168, there was a paragraph that wasn't blocked out by post-it notes, nor was it highlighted, even though it seemed like the most critical thing in the world. underneath the paragraph, there was a series of messily placed sticky notes that he hoped were the translations.
"that type of memory, which makes you relive the sensations you once felt when seeing moskvin act, or when your friend died, is what we call emotion memory, just as your visual memory can reconstruct an inner image of some forgotten thing, place, or person, your emotion memory can bring back feelings you have already experienced. they may seem to be beyond recall, when suddenly a suggestion, a thought, a familiar object will bring them back in full force. sometimes the emotions are as strong as ever, sometimes weaker, sometimes the same strong feelings will come back, but in a different guise."
a small light-blue sticky mark was placed on right next to the translated note, sticking out the side. written on it was a small description, decorated with stars all around, indicating something vital.
"note: get in character for seunghan- one-sided."
from what yoongi has pieced together; jin rereads an old book of his, and restudies acting portrayed throughout the story, all so he could get a few tips to get into character for this "seunghan" person. not that he was surprised, seokjin did announce he joined some neighborhood acting association a few weeks ago, this was probably his first play or something.
after his roomie graduated from his masters program a year ago, he hasn't dabbled in acting since, which was surprising, considering he was an acting/theatre major. yoongi clearly remembers his excitement, how he vowed to be the most handsome actor on the drama scene five years in the future (indirectly, but yoongi got the general idea). where was he going with this?
he sets down the book right on top of his messily scattered notes, possibly crumbling a few notes in the process, but yoongi didn't care. he lazily ran his hands through his hair, which were beginning to fall into his eyes. maybe he should trim his hair later, maybe when all of his classes were done for the day.
he walked towards his welcoming bed, which was very disorganized, especially when compared to seokjin's bed on his side of the room. he sleepily shoves the unwanted things that were on his bed (which thrown onto the bed the second he got back home from his night shift) onto the shaggy fiber carpet. yoongi melted onto the firm surface of his bed, which were readily supplied by jin. not caring about his 10:00 classes, he lures himself into another deep, early morning sleep, which was getting more common nowadays.
-
seokjin steps out of the bathroom, with shiny-still-wet hair and what he calls his after-shower attire. his eyes wondered around his and yoongi's shared apartment. no matter how may times he looks at it, he always comes to appreciate moments like these.
the moonlight from outside shines into the dimly lit room, which only had a desk lamp lighting the whole place, with light framing all around the right places (ex: yoongi's side of the room). the moonlight illuminates through the muliple windows and the balcony door, which gave this cheap, run-down apartment a relaxing atmosphere and an alluring vibe. seokjin had to admit, this was almost worth the ₩500000 tag.
he noiselessly walks to get to his nightstand, carefully making sure not to wake up a sleeping yoongi. there stands, the most holy object of them all, the three-fourths of the way filled, transparent jar. filled with all of his and yoongi's guilt. after respectfully bowing to the jar, he rose up and grabs his handmade wallet (made by your's truly) that was placed right beside his cute, pastel blue alarm clock (which was mostly for decorative purposes since there were tons of clocks in the room) on his nightstand.
he retrieves three ₩1000 bills from his proudly-made wallet, and kneels down. he pushes the money through the slot of the jar one-by-one, as pushing them all down at once could clog up the slot. it was a pain to open the jar, if it did happen to get closed off, as it was 1) shut very tightly, where the only person who could probably open it would be jungkook and 2) it was locked up with an actual lock, which requires a key he probably lost months ago. so basically in order to open it, he must break the glass jar open with a hammer of some sort, and let's just say that kim seokjin was not in the mood to break open the jar, at least not now, considering that he doesn't want to be cleaning glass shards at- he looks at the aesthetic, baby blue alarm clock- 5:52, really early in the morning
"one,
two,
three,"
he spoke softly to himself, as this had become some sort of a habit for him.
he watches as each of the paper bills fall right on top of yoongi's previous sacrifice. oddly satisfying, knowing that the swear jar would be broken in another week or two. no matter how negative this glass jar was, the money was saved up for a good cause (for them). a nice dinner in the most expensive, most exquisite, and most everything restaurant in seoul, where they might be able to go eat for a little relaxation, where they can loosen up a bit and get wasted, as they momentarily forget about their stressful lives. hopefully, the jar fills up by next month (no cheating, of course).
he stands up from his kneeling position, taking his light, dark-white, patterned backpack up with him. he sets his backpack down on his bed and goes around the room gathering up all of his necessary items to survive another wednesday. clothes for his grocery store shift (he was already late, rushing and all, so he might as well change at work), clothes for his restaurant shift, his character study guide to read during break, and a phone charger (plugged into a kitchen outlet) because you never know when your phone will die out.
rushing towards the desk with all of the items he picked up around his arms, he intends to pick up his book which he was currently absorbed in. it was odd. as much as jin remembers (which is much), he didn't set down his book smack down on top of yoongi's notes. whatever. he grabbed the book, not thinking much of it, as he quietly scurries back to his bed.
stuffing his backpack, full of soon-to-be-wrinkled clothes and folded up, stapled packets and falling apart books, was a difficult task. there was so much the bag could take. but as always, seokjin had to suck it up (no, not like that), as this was going to be the next 12 hours of his chosen life.
finally fitting all of his stuff inside the too small backpack, which will guarantee some stares from students and office workers, he opens the drawer of his nightstand to get his drug store makeup bag. certainly, it wouldn't take so long to touch up his face a bit.
he zips up his overstuffed backpack and checks the alarm clock. the hour hand was right next to the big, dark white 6, while the minute hand was a small tick away from the large 5. 6:01. yeah, he had about a good 10 minutes to do his makeup, which was more than enough, as all he applies are a few face products, and that doesn't take up much time after all.
he sits down beside his backpack, seated on his comfy bed. he couldn't help but notice how odd it felt to see yoongi, his "forever fatigued" buddy, sleeping on an actual bed, for the first time in six days (which is a lot in the kim-min household). first of all, his body was laid down, resting on a flat surface, with limbs strewn everywhere, something that almost never happens. second of all, yoongi's long-sleeved arm was rested on top of his forehead, which pushed his bangs out of the way. yoongi would never let anyone see this, ever. and third of all, his cheeks were dusted pink. again.
it was an odd occurrence for any of this to happen, as he was either sleeping at his desk or swallowed up by his thrifted blanket. but yoongi's rosy pink cheeks are a whole different matter. never has he ever looked this red, never while he's awake, and never while he's sleeping. well, that was until now. even if yoongi did tell him about it, seokjin just wonders how good of a dream it could possibly be.
he reaches over to the power outlet, right between his and his roommate's nightstands, and seizes the charging phone, removing the power cord. pressing the home button, he was greeted with the bright artificial light, which probably had brightness turned all the way up. he momentarily shields his eyes from the light, as it was practically burning his eyes.
once the dust has settled, he swipes the options menu up, turning the brightness about halfway, as it was indeed all the way up. he laid his eyes on the background. it was a picture of a smiley boy, simply standing against an iu advertisement in a subway station, two hands in a peace sign. he wore a simple gold-wired headband, the wire twisted to replicate bunny ears. the gold-wired perfectly complimented the thin gold frame, circle lens glasses, giving it delicate look. the boy smiled, showing rabbit-like teeth, which contributed to the whole 'bunny' image. a simple pink and white striped t-shirt was worn by the boy, which gives the delicate, bunny-like look an added effect. an effect much like those boy groups you would see on tv. even though he was just standing there, with 'v's and all, the muscles on his arms popped, and significantly so.
seokjin was certain, 100%, that this wasn't his phone (don't blame him, it wasn't his idea to get identical phone models and phone cases). if he remembers correctly, which he does, the last time he set jungkook as his background was about a month or so. no doubt about it, this phone was probably yoongi's phone.
he gets up from his comfortable bed to set down yoongi's phone on his nightstand. knowing his roommate, he might not have turned on an alarm for his 10:00 classes. so like the other nights before, he entered the passcode onto his roommate's phone (which he saw him once do in the open), and turns on a series of 8:30 to 9:00 alarms, that were all turned off, to seokjin's annoyance.
once the task was done, locates his phone, which was placed on the kitchen counter, where he got his phone charger from (seokjin had to admit, he felt a bit dumb, which kind of hurts his pride a little). he looks toward the direction of the handy-dandy microwave clock that always saves him the hassle of telling time from the multiple analog clocks in the room. 6:09. not a lot of time left, he zips open the small pouch on his backpack and places his phone in, grabs his make up bag, which he left lying on the surface of his already made bed, and scampers towards the bathroom. hastily, he applied some face foundation, concealer, and chapstick. screw everything else.
making his way out of the bathroom, he hurriedly picks up a stack of light pink sticky notes from his desk. he separates a note from the rest of the stack, and wrote a small reminder in a random ballpoint pen for his roommate with no delay.
"sacrifice ₩6000 to the jar; record yourself & text it to me."
he sticks the post-it note onto the face of yoongi's phone, and grabs his dark white backpack from his bed. carrying stuff to the door, he pauses to get take his door keys from the key hanger (a gift from his older sister from her vacation to hawaii in the states), which was conveniently placed next to the door. out the door he goes, a backpack slung around his back, a stack of post-it notes in his hands, as well as a set of keys. he ran as fast as he can to the grocery store, hoping to make it before 6:30.
he checks his digital watch (bought from daiso) that was placed around his left wrist. 6:19. maybe he can get there bin time, he just needs to run a half mile or so.
he arrived at the grocery store at 6:25, which was good enough. he jogged as fast as he could to the bathrooms ('no running!'), his backpack keeping up right behind. he changes from his after-shower apparel to his grocery store uniform in a matter of 3 minutes; a record. he stuffs his after-shower clothes into the overcrowded backpack, hopefully looking a lot less crowded, as the after-shower clothes were a lot less bulky than his grocery store uniform.
he makes his way towards the staff room, which was luckily located at near the end of the bathroom halls. pushing the heavy breakroom doors open, he was "welcomed" by the looks of his stern and weary coworkers.
"what the hell, seokjin, i thought you'd fucking bail out on me here." a female colleague yelled crossly to seokjin before leaving the staff room.
"don't mind her, kim-ssi, it's just that time of the month, you know?" a male coworker, her boyfriend, apologises, "and you know, there's finals and all-"
"yeah, i understand," seokjin cuts him off, used to his colleague's behaviors, as he places his backpack in his cubby.
"that's good." his coworker exits the room, following right behind his girlfriend.
from the pouch compartment, he gets out his phone and places it in the pockets of his dark brown apron. he then follows his coworkers out of the break room, later joining his female colleague in the supply room. it was a tense moment, as seokjin could feel the daggers that were metaphorically thrown at him.
an hour or so later, they opened the grocery store, with seokjin and his male coworker on cashier duty, while the female coworker and a few other workers who came in later worked in the back, transferring some fresh produce onto the shelves.
another wednesday to go.