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"They look dope." Jisung smiles proudly as he stares at his nails.
"Guess so."
It's ten o'clock and nothing can be heard besides our slow breathing— Jisung's a bit heavy because of some thunders— the rain and Doongie's purrs under the bed. I hope it's the cat.
Once again, we're sharing my bed. Not for the whole night, but only for our chats.
If only I didn't move a lot in my sleep, maybe.. just maybe.
Frankly, I'd completely hate it if I were to wake up holding this prick in my arms. Not to mention the fact that he would love it.
Just thinking about it makes me scoff. Again, it reminds me of being moody.
Today was rather hard. It got me into a bad mood.
"You've been really quiet for the past hours," Jisung notices.
My mouth opens, but it can't bring itself to say anything. I look up at the ceiling, stargazing through the window.
Well, they're hiding tonight behind the packed clouds, full of rage.
"What's up?"
"The sky." I finally reply indifferently.
He snorts, although it's a sound of annoyance. "I'm going to punch you if you use that one more time."
"Exciting."
"Seriously, what's wrong with you? You were fine like five hours ago. Did you not like the salad I made?"
"No."
"No as in 'no, I liked it' or 'no, it tasted like shit'?"
"You're making my brain cells commit suicide."
"Me and the only brain cell you have got something in common." he cracks up and I chuckle too, unable to keep it in.
Dark humour is fun, especially when I make jokes like that or when I can relate to them.
Our fit gradually calms down.
"So, will you tell me what's wrong with you now?"
"Probably the weather." I roll my eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to move away from him.
"What are you, seventy?"
"How is age relevant to weather?"
"People say that old people are sensitive to bad weather."
"I have never heard anyone say that."
"Really?"
"Aha."
"Whatever, stop switching the topic." he turns on his side. I'm still lying on my back, refusing to face him. "What happened?"
