Put this into perspective: Soobin's golden spoon is big enough to feed a whole country, and Huening hopes that his heart is only enough to squeeze room for him.
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"If I'm the worst, then you must not know that many people."
Soobin's teeth are gritted as this statement is rushed out. His cheeks are ruddy, and his eyes are looking at anything but Huening.
Because he himself knows, and Huening is evermore conscious of how quickly his anger will die down with a simple glance.
"The truth is–The truth is ...You ruined my life, hyung," he decides to honestly counter. It's mellow as can be.
Huening continues eating and looks up at Soobin's own vulnerable pathetic form. His hair is wet from the shower, the towel around his neck, and the worn basketball shorts for leisure more than sport.
"But was it fun? And yet you chase after me?," Soobin clips.
The next stab of Huening's crookedly broken disposal chopsticks is brutal to the jjajangmyeon.
(Almost as if he's envisioning it to be a graceful face comprised of silly big ears, rounded monolid eyes, cherry blossom lips, and a straight nose.)
✸
Fucking freezing cold.
Huening has never been partial to city life.
Excluding: carbon emissions pollution, the business and the hurried way that things need to be progressively moving, the swarms of faceless people, the overly saturated lines of mixed smells and scents, sensory overload, and the more malignant spirits that attach themselves to his carry on.
Apparently chilling down to the bone that his steel resolution shivers.
He layers two sweatpants underneath baggy jeans (the wide-legged ones bought from the street market, dark blue denim falling low on his hips.)
It's still not warm enough.
He makes sure he takes very little space in the physical presence.
The walls in his dormitory are boarded up with posters. Graffiti is painted over the complex in ghastly white paint.
He moves through an elongated garden snake trail to the taxi taking him out of the airport.
Seoul's terrible and lonely, but manageable.
The red-lettered acrylic keychain on his bag showcases two letters.
SB♡
He should've burnt it alongside the polaroid when he had the chance.
✸
Alas, your honor, what the defendant concealed was: