@hisardor
he never did quite understand how minsung knew exactly what hyungsoo needed on days like this. perhaps they both had similar crash courses, similar ACHES in near perfectly placed areas of their chest / thorned flowers oif the same species grew between identical cracks in their bodies & hyungsoo knew not of what to make of minsung — of friend or foe or something more. he only knew that he found comfort in hands with skin torn & felt no fearplacing his thorns to be embeded into minsung’s skin, no fear when minsung returned the gesture / uncertain but comforted. as AWFUL as it might’ve been, minsung was his go-to / minsung was everything pinjui couldn’t be whenever hyungsoo couldn’t see anyone but him— hyungsoo most definitely needed coffee.
to: minnie
( txt. ) alright ( txt. ) i’ll be there soon ( txt. ) i’ll bring a sandwich and some vodka.
fingers drummed to the background song’s tempo, adagietto. even he is unsure as to why the extempore change of plans, inviting hyunsoo to a café without previous thought. if he were to describe themselves, he’d said spontaneous, impromptu, having been in several abrupt meetings. nonetheless, they were the ones he most got to enjoy. hanging out with hyunsoo was like break, a limbo, a grey area, a deep breath. fatigued trapezius, obdurate dropping eyelids, fidgety digits— it came into a halt when accompanied by the other; he enjoyed his presence. even if the bloodstain still hadn’t gone from his door frame.
to: zucchini
txt. i’m already here, txt. are you far? txt. bring me something too
