an ache balled itself up in sung’s stomach. a smile painted his face, watching jinki do the spin he asked for, to see every side of the shirt he was showing off. his friend deserved more than for his mind to be narrow-mindedly focused on the hole burning in his bag, but it didn’t stop. a ring wiggled into view and sung had to blink to physically focus on it, and chatter off his (positive) opinions.
sung didn’t buy clothes much anymore. his closet was full of the last haul he’d done, reworking his style into... this. his fingers gripped the edge of a too large white shirt he was wearing, stuffing it into wrinkles in his palm. there wasn’t any point to buying new clothes, when the ones he had were quite similar, and all very comfortable.
except for one blip, relegated to the furthest corner of his section of the trainee dorm closet.
it only housed three items. a fluffy pink sweater, that he wore when he was sick, or on very rare occasions to sleep. a pair of leather pants that had only been on his body once for his mother, who told him he looked so dashing he had to have them. and... a crop top. another trainee gave it to him --he could remember the way they held it up to him, slipped his arm in the hole, told him it suited him. but, that was as far as the top ever got on his body. soon after that, sung’s style changed again, and the crop top was relegated to being hidden amongst a sea of black, white, and grey.
he envied jinki, in moments like this. he seemed so much more confident in his choices, in his style. jinki probably would receive a crop top like that, and laugh, like it was a gag gift. his stomach wouldn’t turn over, his heartbeat wouldn’t skyrocket and pound through his ears. sung wanted to be that confident.
bringing the shirt itself was already enough of a struggle. the idea of ‘playing dress up’ with your best friend sounded simple, innocent. he expected to let jinki play around, and only offer his support and cheers. but here, now, his hand beginning to nervously rub on the gripped shirt tails in his lap... it wouldn’t be so bad if he tried the top on, right? jinki wouldn’t judge him.
he hoped.
sung swallowed. shakes of adrenaline sparked down along his arm, and the next second, his bag was in his lap. delicate fingers opened the zipper, and slid over the ridged texture. now or never. he pulled the shirt out, and held it up towards his friend. “i have this? to, um, try on, if you want me to?”
@fmdjinki
