❝some memories never
leave your bones. Like
salt in sea; they become
a part of you❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
17. the age where you make
colorful memories with
people you cherish, have
clashes with those people,
misunderstand them.
Nevertheless they're...
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. . .
╔══════════════╗ 9 March, 2021 ╚══════════════╝
I stood outside the office building waiting for taxi. It was late night, it was cold and I was nothing but tired. Minho had spoiled me a lot by giving me lifts all the time. It would have been better to get a car of my own. I can, but I won't. It isn't that I don't know how to drive. I do. It's just I'm terrible at it. And when I say terrible, I mean it with every muscle in my body. The last time I drove, I almost crashed the car 3 times and was about to hit a person. Minho was terrified to even let me near steering wheels. So for the sake of world peace, I keep a safe distance from driving literally anything but a bicycle.
A car stopped in front of me. The person inside the car rolled his window down as I looked away.
"You won't be able to catch any taxis here at this time." Chan said. "Get in, I'll give you a ride."
I scoffed.
"No thanks. I can do an uber." I spoke, pulling out my phone.
"You must be so excited to spend your money, aren't you? It would cost a lot for an Uber at such time." He said, chuckling.
"None of your business, Mr. Bang." I scowled, respectfully.
I turned my attention to my phone, booking an Uber, which unfortunately did cost me a lot. Mentally making a note to not book an Uber at anytime as such henceforth. I saw Chan had got out of his car, leaning against it's bonnet, his arms crossed over his chest.
Why are you waiting here? I wished to question him but knowing him all I would recive in a reply would be a none of your business.
I instead focused my attention to the road, eagerly waiting for the cab to arrive. From my peripheral vision, I could feel his eyes on me but neither him nor I spoke a word.
A burning smell suddenly reached my nostrils as I saw string of smoke creating a pattern in air. Scrunching my nose, I turned my attention to Chan, a cigarette placed in between his plump lips as he raked hand through his midnight black hair. Smoking? Really now, Chan? When did you learn to poison yourself? I wanted to say it to him, be angry (which I already was) and throw away the stick of death pressed between his lips. But I couldn't. I reminded myself not to get involved with Christopher Bang again. Instead, I just glared at him. He glanced at me as I looked back and forth between the cigar and his hand.
"Wha--" He was cut off by a cab stopping in front of us.
"Did any of you book a cab?" The driver asked, peeking out of the window.
