Bend & Break | Wooyoung [Ongoing]

9 | he eats lunch with the grown-ups

Him.

SAEROM WAS RIGHT ABOUT CHANGBIN. It was the way I knew it would turn up too, but I discovered today that the more he kept on portraying the bigger person, the less I felt of a winner.

"Screw you and your apology," I said without conviction.

However I was chalking it up to feeling distraught—the only sentiment my mind could express at the moment, even at that, it was nuanced. My fingers grazed an itch at the back of my scalp, and when I sniffed up my breath after yawning, I wanted to barf. Changbin hasn't thought of hanging up. To be honest, I was appalled.

The tut of his tongue against his teeth travelled through the speaker. "Leave it to you to milk it," he commented. "It's noon, what are you up to?"

Pausing, my lungs exhaled, even though I could bet it hits the mic loud enough that Changbin could make a remark if he decided. It was a tell on my current state of mind. While he stayed quiet, awaiting feedback, I eased back unconsciously. Despite knowing he meant well, I still wouldn't be able to explain it. It was just...

I wanted to see life pick up once more, but not the way it used to. It had nothing to do with history, specially one I'd meditated upon and adjudged wasn't for me.

"Stuff."

My computer wasn't running yet. I hadn't made immediate plans to sit in front of it, glare at it and have it glare right back. This way I wouldn't have to think of the woman I'd been lying to, I didn't have to lie for the time being. I needed to catch my breath. It seemed to be I had fed her enough of my BS to see her through a whole night, keep her awake and indulging a vigil. Muye must've decided she wasn't ready to deal with the likes of Youngwoo. I hadn't decided whether I was in the clear or not. She was not a bright cookie, I'd give her that, yet ... hadn't anyone warned her it was the 21st century and you didn't trust people right off the Internet these days? Maybe Muye happened to be one of those deficient adults lacking in discretion. And I've got a cousin who, currently at the age of five, already thought  her elder brother of ten was a bigger patsy than she had capabilities to be (there's a lot to learn from the girl). Song Muye was making it easy, too easy that it stepped the line to the other side and stopped looking believable.

What was she up to right now, I wondered. Changbin was at work. Had he sniffed up her scent ever since, whisking by as we spoke?

"What stuff?"

"Busy stuff."

"Formulating your next lie." It didn't appear to be a question, but Changbin wasn't sounding sure either. He was mostly joking, I bet. Whenever Changbin jokes, it leaned nearer to huffish mockery. I could hear it on his breath. "Get her a to-go bag from that resto she seems to frequent. And here I thought Mingi had given you enough of an incentive to kick it up a notch."

Incentive, ticking time bomb—I didn't see the difference. Mingi's fiery head of hair was always the first thing to deliberate on, before my mind's eye sheds light on the rest of him—the outline of his cheekbones, those eyes. His lips should be his best feature, bearing the twist of a high self-satisfied grim reaper locked in on a fresh soul (on its way out of a moribund body, nearer to death's door) to harvest. He would be the one to take my life when it's been said and done and unraveled. Come to think of it, that would be very logical.

The brother offs me. Yes. The Song twins might not have a prime relationship for whatever reason, yet I might be the thing that brings them together once they figure discrepancies can be set aside long enough to deal with scum.

"I'm going tactical," I said, because I had to say something. Did I know what I even meant? No. Lately I didn't make sense to myself, but I also had to remember there were people who at least expected me to think with my brain and not my posterior. "She's finally turned off by a stranger materializing with a package out of nowhere with her favourite lunch combo. What was I thinking?"