not what you think

xxxi: n

a/n: we're at present now ^^ joonki is mad in this chapter 

The predicament called his studies, upon its exit has forged a new path of predicament called job hunt.

Joonki perceives his head to be spinning, stowing himself at the nose of the new computer Wooyoung and San imposed upon him in a few days after his graduation. Their argument is, Joonki can reserve time for nearly everything which requires the internet.

He garners gratification for their presence in his and Yeosang's life, but his self-esteem fails to be up to scratch about it.

His psyche glides through another magnitude of headache upon viewing the enlightened screen. His hands clasps upon his head, gliding the fingers through his tresses in stumbling upon every dead end.

"Still no job fitting enough for you?", Yeosang voices from his side, viewing the screen and gliding his eyes to Joonki's plated brows.

"Nothing," Joonki murmurs, grasping the glass of water beside the computer to quaff it briskly.

"You seem pained. Is that a headache?", Yeosang attunes in his seat, mirroring Joonki.

"Yes. Must be the blue light."

"I'll bring a painkiller with some leftover ramen in the fridge. Omma left it for you in case you needed it," Yeosang stands up before trudging to the kitchen, levering out the food before heating it up in the oven. Whilst the food warms itself, he grasps open a cabinet to instill one tablet in his hand before stowing the food and medicine in the tray and gliding back to the younger male.

"Thank you, hyung," Joonki voices, grasping the bowl from the tray.

"It's time I take care of you when you did for me amidst everything," Yeosang says, viewing with softened eyes, "It must've been tough for you."

"It wasn't, hyung," Joonki says whilst sipping on the broth.

"It was. You tried to hide it from me, but it showed in your face. You deserve everything in the world after what you have gone through."

Joonki strands a bantam smile, chomping on a chopstick full of noodle strands, stirred to perfection.

He relishes his mother's cooking even further, for the times he has been vanquished from the delicacy with nothing but adoration from the oldened woman.

He invigorates himself with the energy from the food, sipping the ceasing amount of the broth.

He grasps on the painkiller and swallows it down with water, cozying up against the couch.

"Better?", Yeosang asks, a bantam smile on his lips.

"It will be when the painkiller works," Joonki murmurs, perceiving the afternoon solar star cascading its beams upon his visuals, extending warmth and maybe, a tad bit of hope for progressive days.

Where his heart will perceive to be thawed from the rockiness imposed upon, blemished with.

Where the world will manifest itself to him as a rainbow rather than the glum gray of the rain coupled with thunderous cacophony.

Where his hands will hold everything dear to him, his friends, his remaining family, not the least, his passion.

His psyche is yet to be overcomed from the forlornness of being hashed from his one true calling.

The magic wand and palette in his hands. The canisters arrayed in brim along his sides. The meadow circumferencing him and his belongings. The gladdened, jovial vocals of the older two young women, now away in foreign land to their enthusiasts.