𝒐𝒐𝒐. "I didn't write this to forget who I am as a person nor did I write it for money out of desperation. I wrote this because I know, one day, someone will find this story in the corner of a library, squeezed between forgotten stories with a dus...
Kang Yeosang. January 2nd, 1981. | Friday, 12:15 PM.
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Yeosang takes an unhurried sip of his hot chocolate, mittens sliding against the plastic cup as he hisses in pain when the hot liquid burns the tip of his tongue. He places the cup down on his lap, legs pressed together to keep warm from the shivering cold. "I wonder where he's at..." Yeosang mutters, looking at the clock on his wrist before perking up, seeing San jogging through the snow with red cheeks and a flushed nose.
"Yeosangie! I'm sorry I'm late!" San apologizes, bending over his knees with thick breaths. He straightens his back, pulling his hat over his frozen ears then grins at Yeosang. "Did I make it on time?"
"Barely," Yeosang jokes, standing from the park bench he was seated upon. "The movie doesn't start until another ten minutes. If we speed-walk, we'll make it right on time." San didn't think twice and dashed through the snow, plummeting into a pile within seconds as Yeosang took steady steps through the snow.
"I'm okay!" San yells, poking his head up from the snow.
"I didn't ask." Yeosang teases, helping the blonde from the snow before walking at a quick pace to the movie theaters nearby. This was their first hang-out of the new year, and in a long time as San has been hanging around Wooyoung more often while Yeosang took that as an opportunity to have alone time.
Watching a movie wasn't the best thing to do together since the two never watch the same genres, but it was adequately nicer than ice-skating — in Yeosang's words, it's just as dreary as rollerblading and prefers to be on smooth ground. Every so often, San would lean over to ask Yeosang for a sip of his soda or to whisper about the apparent things on the big scene. It didn't irritate the brunette but, at one point, Yeosang aggressively shushed the blonde then fixed his glasses with an attitude.
"That movie was so lame!" San exclaims, kicking the snow once they reached outside of the theaters. "I can't believe she would fall in love with a guy like him — he doesn't even treat her right!"
"You were the one who wanted to watch the movie, Sannie," Yeosang laughs, shoving his mitten hands into his pockets and buries his nose in the black cloth of his turtleneck. "All romance movies are the same, there's no — what's the word for it. There's no excitement in their relationships. I agree with you, she should have spent her free time on herself and not on a measly guy who treats her like garbage."
"What! No, she should have been with the other guy. He was so much kinder to her." San disagrees, turning his nose up to the air with his arms crossed. "Romance movies are the best kind of movies, you just have no taste."
"I do have taste, I enjoy watching sci-fi movies. Particularly the 1960 ones, they're hilarious from their absence of equipment to film. I bet I can film a better movie on a rock!" Yeosang cackles at his own joke, slapping a knee and doubling over at the idea. Meanwhile, San stood there, not fascinated by Yeosang's "joke" — or so he calls it.
