#junous

    he’s nothing but a bag of bones hunched over a bowl of half-eaten fruit by 08:30 am. all night, the roof shattered under the ricochet of rain. all night, the contradictions mumbling between need and nerve; the bouquet of bergamot wetting his jaw.

( five miles of striking asphalt doesn’t do much to undo the fog. ) jongin enters the kitchen, feet scuffing the floor, and every thought or feeling materializes while his intellectual-defenses are weakened from weariness.

lips quivering hinder his attempt to feign indifference.