You Wrote Me a Letter (but I never learned how to read) || Wooyu ||

Hear me (and you don't)

***

"You look tense"

His voice pushed Yuto to mentally cower in disgust. Fake sympathy, rhetorical questions, and ice-cold sneers are what constituted the person that was Choi Dalo. He would love to show the white-haired male how much he resents him presently, but that would be impolite. And he couldn't be impolite to the guy who holds so much power over him. He did not reply, he just glared daggers his way. Which seemed to amuse the older even better, because he thrived on the feeling of supremacy and loved dangling it in his victim's face.

Dalo turned his attention to the selection of pastries that the Cube cafe had to offer.

"Would you like a drink?" He asked, not really expecting an answer. "Ooh, déjà vu." He exclaimed with fake excitement. "This is where we had our first date." Yuto rolled his eyes. "Ah, good times. Back then you had no idea what you were getting yourself into." He turned to look into the shorter's eyes, who burned at the back of his skull with hatred. How amusing. "But then again, not much has changed." He grinned.

They sat in silence some more, Dalo leering and Yuto ignoring until the older got bored and pulled out a chair from a nearby table and slumped in it.

"Don't be shy." He gestures for Yuto to take a seat in the chair opposite him.

Yuto stood unmoved.

"I don't think you're in a position to refuse me anything right now, Yuto."

The Japanese boy pulled out a chair and mimicked his position, the snowflake necklace slipping out as he bent in his position and Dalo eyed it subtly, curiosity stricken.

"What do you want?" Yuto deadpanned defensively. Dalo watched him from under hooded eyelids.

"You've already asked me that, and I already gave you the answer. I said I wanted to see you and now I'm seeing you. I'm quite satisfied at the moment."

"Does that mean you'll stop tormenting me?"

A playful smile stretched on cold, chapped lips.

"That really only depends on you, Yuto."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, should you fail to keep me entertained, I will take matters in my own hands and entertaining myself. We both know how that goes by now."

Yes, Yuto knows now. Dalo is dangerous and talking to him was like dancing on eggshells. One slip of the tongue could become a fatal weapon against Yuto that he himself put into Dalo's hands. He wondered how many people before him had he messed with. How many lives had he destroyed? Because this seems far too easy, far too enjoyable for him.

"You're afraid." He spoke with amusement in his voice. Yes, my inner turmoil amuses you.

"I'm tired." Yuto replied bluntly. Dalo smirked, folding his arms around his chest and obviously not buying Yuto's bullshit.

"Gather your rose buds while you may, Yuto." The younger regarded him suspiciously. He's reciting poetry with hidden implications, which seemed to be something he did quite often. The Japanese boy didn't think much of it at first, but now sipped every word in an attempt of a thorough analysis. Learn from your mistakes. "It's quite interesting."

"What is."

"You admitting that you're afraid of changes, yet no change has happened yet. And still, you're afraid." Yuto regarded him perplexed, but recalling eventually, the conversation they carried outside the pet shop, on the bridge. He could still feel the cold numbness in his palm from Dalo's dubious act of proving the point of his analogy. "Makes one wonder, are you afraid of the change itself, or only the idea of change?"