say it

he’s lost count by the seventh (eighth?) shot glass: the rum cake’s tasting more like rum than cake and it has to be because kiho’s coming in strong with the tour de booze supplied by his very own  liquor cabinet. everything’s a slur-blur concoction of the five senses, but haejin’s face cuts into his line of sight with an impressive amount of clarity in spite of it, or baby bro is actually that close to his face. “haejin-ah.” one hand raises weakly, one movement away from looking like he’s waving, but then it drops back down with a slump and a drunken laugh. again, this time louder: “haejin-aaaah!” 

( ` how can she be so clueless? haejin isn’t sure, figures it’s not nice to ask. but it’s baffling to say the least, last he checked, she did live above a bakery at all. opts to keep his mouth shut instead, brow raising at the question. his lips part, corners curled, giving way to a small laugh before he step closer, extending the bowl toward her. ) “mixing it, duh.” ( ` it’s cute on her regardless. blanket of blank that overtakes her, expression and all. haejin has known her long enough to be able to read the reaction well. coming to the conclusion that she simply had no idea. ) ( ` this, he realizes with a growing impish grin. ) “need help?” ( ` we both know you do. ) “it’s easy, look...” ( ` inches closer, winding an arm around her frame to slide his fingers over her grip on the whisk, twisting to a slight angle before he starts, folding over the batter. ) “so basically, you just mix it till everything’s smoothed out like the flour and all—then we can pour it into the pan to bake.” ( ` he grins. ) “easy right?” ( ` of course there’s the matter of whipping cream and last he checked their mixer was out of commission—but they’ll cross that bridge later. )

dimple soobin | do not edit. (1, 2, 3, 4)

too much. ryuwon was undoubtedly too much. haejin supposes he’s never met a girl like her. in turn, clearly doesn’t know how to react. or even deal. or even, even, how to answer her questions. instead, he opts to stare, mouth slightly agape. mr normally excels in school stalled for an answer. “that’s because i—i was talking to one of my teachers.” finishes lamely, eyes lowering to her backpack with a small tight frown. right, she did. so he can’t be mean about it now can he? and her reasoning? haejin doesn’t even know where to begin to argue. “because--never mind, as long as you love it i guess.” he’ll swallow today’s defeat. for now. what right does he have to parent anything? opting instead for a quick glance around for his friends before he gives her a little nudge. “did you eat anything today that wasn’t ice cream?”

where is he? he should be done class by now. it’s so boring having to wait for him out in the sun and she finished her ice cream nearly five minutes ago. a few more seconds and she’ll die from a heat stroke. she spots him talking to a classmate or a friend she assumes. she skips up to him, “haejinah!” in a sing-songy voice. “what took you so long! you left me out in the sun and i nearly died! are you going to pay for my funeral if i die? huh?” nudging him harshly. “do you like my new backpack? it’s peppa pig! now i look like a student that goes to this school and now you can stop nagging me to go to school, isn’t that awesome!” — @umhaejin

( ` it’s—overreacting? isn’t it? or just, odd. it’s just very odd. foreign stirring that settles in chest. not knowing how to act around eunsuh is odd—unnatural. but that was his fault after all, for reading into clearly nothing. ) “cool.”  ( ` reassess, eyes flicking over the instructions for a long moment. oven? already preheated. what’s left is really mixing the batter. ) “if you want you can claim it as your own, i don’t mind.” ( ` his lips twitch, attention turning to sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt al lover the bowl. roughly done, evident with the amount of powder in the air. prompting a small sneeze he tries to muffle. ) “people might not believe it though...” ( ` speaks once the itch in his nose leaves, voice colored playful. adds in cream to start mixing the batter after a bit; whisk in hand. the handheld mixer is here somewhere. but, he can’t be bothered. nothing wrong with doing things old fashioned. ) "do you wanna try?” ( ` arches a brow, offering up the mixing bowl with a smile. ) “after this all we have to do is pour it in the pan and bake.”

💙

“you... don’t have to wait for your parents to eat?”