[ txt to: gyunnie 🐥 ] hey punk let me in
sunmi exhales once through her nose, stance shifting to place more weight on one side. honestly, she should just have sanggyun’s buzz-code redirect to her own cell so she can let herself in. given how often this happens.
“are you on the floor again?...”
[ txt to: gyunnie 🐥 ] hurry!!! come outside!!! there’s an ice cream truck!!!
she waits for a moment, watching her phone. nothing? he must be asleep.
she sighs, she’s not /mad/ especially because she’d asked him to come on this shopping trip so last minute. he works late nights at the bar so she can forgive him for sleeping in.
that being said, twelve-thirty is pushing it!
she slips her phone back into her jacket pocket and looks up toward the fifth floor, where she can see what she recognizes as sanggyun’s balcony. she then peers at the ground around her feet, crouching down to pick up a stone.
with the strong, precise throw of a well-seasoned softball coach, she hits his window on the first try. the rock makes with a loud /clack/ and then lands on his balcony. it’s actually not easy to throw that high, but she’s had years of practise whipping softballs she waits for a full ten seconds, checks her phone again. still nothing. she huffs a little, crouches down again, rinse and repeat — but this time she realizes far too late that the window is open, and a familiar little face pops out just in time to get hit on the forehead with the tiny rock.
“oh my god,” sunmi gasps. hand flying to her mouth, his expression all the way up there is almost funny enough for her to laugh, but she does feel awful. “i’m sorry!” she calls up, shielding her eyes from the sun. “you weren’t answering your texts, so...”
what a horrible big-sister-figure she is. now she has to potentially care for a head wound /and/ explain to sanggyun that there’s no ice cream truck outside — she makes a personal vow to buy him ice cream later.
“get a band-aid and then let me in!”
