khaki fridays

you can't touch me, don't touch me! 

yup that’s me!

🍃–“Hyung, is that a real question or are you baiting me with a nice and fresh, wiggly pink worm?” Dark eyes twinkle with suspicion yet in juxtaposition, lips dutifully protrude in a manner meant to garner pity. “I haven’t had anyone to gossip to. Or send these cute new pretzel emotes to. Did you miss me back?”

“I would have actually preferred never,” he’s wagging a finger at her as he continues nonsensically, obviously having suffered through endless research solely to refute her, “But I guess that’s not an option these days? What has the world come to? It’s like, there’s no undo button or something. So many people have viewed the picture already, how do I take it down? You’re a curse aren’t you? Why didn't anyone tell me you put this picture here? Look at these comments--” 

“We’re having this kind of talk now? Is it possible for you to maybe hold onto comments like that after we’re done playing this? I understand that the scripting for this game isn’t like...good, but that’s what makes it fun, right?” On the verge of a solely verbal conquest ( to prove himself right, of course ), he nudges the other with an elbow-- and this took quite a bit of stretching, considering very early off into the multiplayer introduction, he had built an invisible divider between them to avoid any friendly fire that wasn’t in game. “Did you even listen to the mission objective? I'm going to die this level aren't I?"

“Really? I think it’s nice too, actually it’s kinda hard for me to not listen to it, yanno? Doesn’t it make you wanna dance?” His nose is scrunching into the smile he’s sending her way when he shrugs loosely, adding as an afterthought, “Thanks! It’s so sad, no one believes that I could possibly have a good taste in music.”

👶🏻 – Upon being given the knowledge to put a name to who had up until now been nameless ( hindsight, he’d purposefully marched across the stretch of green and incited this encounter ). “Call me whatever you want, okay? Ah, look at that! You’re not much older than me are you, Kim Namjoon? Namjoon-ah.”  His eyes were easily drawn astray from where he’d managed to maintain a minimum of five second’s eye contact-- he was only his senior by a margin, and yet he spoke having taken no time to consider that maybe he should slip into that dialect he’d been ( not so ) studiously practicing for these past few months, no doubt having ignored the notion that speaking so loosely and with so little regard for propriety may pass him off as some uncivil pig that would ultimately sully the name for all those originating from Daegu and now residing in Seoul. You can’t charm everyone with your satoori, Kim Taehyung.  “I was born in Daegu, which is kinda where I wanna be right now. Seoul just feels different, yanno? Uhm-- no offense, I think we’re doing very well so far?” He’s gotten this far, why stop now? Unabashedly he blinks down at the school work strewn about him, a hand raising to ruffle through his hair, albeit lacking confidence but his smile saying otherwise,  “I think that now that I know something about you, we can be friends. What’s that? Are you reading? Is that homework? I think I could cry over my homework sometimes.”

“I’m not sure what that smells like but it wasn’t me.” Although he’s quick to respond at his own defense, he’s also narrowing his glossy pools at her, having just suddenly readjusted to reality after hours of having them trained on a screen lit dimly, grown accustomed to the occasional sounding off at the slick of his sword passing through one of his many opponents’ bodies. Of course, he only responded after flying to pause the game-play after the controller was jolted out of his hands upon the female’s entrance. “I’ve been waiting forever, I got so hungry that I started eating those frosted flake crumbs I told you about earlier. Disgusting, by the way. Also, what’s a patchouli?”

“But see, there is no because-- a matter like this can’t go unacknowledged, I had to say it before I forgot it, okay? Wouldn’t it be a shame if I inconvenienced you by calling you at like, some ungodly hour to talk about gross American inventions?” His inquiry somehow manages to acquire a matter-of-factly lilt, a loose grin pulling at his lips as he abruptly pushes his phone into the other’s grasp, “Yanno, I would’ve called first but I was thinking ‘hey, surprise!,’ right? Look at this, come on, come on, is my point proven valid now? Obviously I couldn’t read it but loose meat and and popular doesn’t sound right to me.”