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"Jisung," I sigh deeply. "Kindly shut the fuck up."
"Oh, come on! It's important."
"No."
He frowns. "No as in 'no I wouldn't' or 'no it's not important'?"
"Drop it already."
"Come onnnn," Jisung whines, voice high at its ends.
My eyes lock with his, gazing daggers at him. He glares back, determined to win this banter. I hum deep in thought. "Hm."
"Hm?"
"Depends on what fruit you'd be."
"What's your favourite, Minho?"
"Not you."
Jisung sighs and leans back on the couch. "Stop friendzoning me,"
"What should I do instead?"
"Cuddle me." his arms open wide, a playful look in his stare. "That's all I'm asking for."
"I really, really don't get you, Jisung."
"You can't blame me."
"We've had this conversation so many times already." I murmur as I look out the window, peeking at how the wind causes the drops of hydrogen oxide to fall against the window, creating a calming sound.
Falling asleep to this noise, as a kid, gave me the best sleep.
Also listening to my mother's sweet voice as she'd read me stories.
"I think you can tell I've never received affection." the boy, who's now slowly eating from the shared plate, says in that small voice of his.
"I know."
We sit in silence, and it's a bit weird this time. Not how it used to be, when we didn't need to force a conversation to stop the awkwardness.
I'm aware that I should comfort him or do something, but it's not my business at all. I don't quite know how I should react.
"Are you cold, Jisung?"
"Mhm."
"Alright." I do nothing, then after around a minute, I get up.
"Where are you going?"
"Upstairs. I'll be right back."
He nods and waits patiently on the couch for me to return. I get two blankets, wrapping one around myself as if it were a jacket and then throw the other on him once I'm back.
"Oh, thank you, meanie."
"Shut it." I roll my eyes and sit back down on the other end of the couch.
We're back to actually paying attention to the television, trying to catch onto the plot a little.
