fencings asked: “ how about a little midnight snack? ”  

“it’s not even half past eleven,” sae-byeok deadpans, hands shoved into the pockets of her windbreaker. the night is cool and crisp, carrying the smell of recent rain — evidence of that in the form of wet asphalt beneath their feet and the puddles that hee-do skips around, instead of just walking over them like a normal person. “and we didn’t do homework like you said we would.”

which isn’t exactly the truth: sae-byeok did the homework, tucking herself into a corner of the fencing team’s training room, while hee-do insisted on doing another twenty-five lunges ( fentes, hee-do had said, they’re called fentes ) and then another twenty-five, and then another, on and on until the lights had turned off on them.

but sae-byeok follows too easily for a girl that was just complaining, sighing as she adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder so she can chase after hee-do who’s picked up her pace, wearing a wide grin when she realizes she’s gotten sae-byeok to give in again. 

@fencings​  ❤’d.

un.dertale. 

sudden raising of voice tenses the seam of mutt’s shoulders, but it’s only a second or two before he unfreezes. his fingers curl around the straps of his bag where they cut into his shoulders, tugging restive at the fabric.