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🪨💫🌑🪐🌑💫🪨
- 𝕋𝕎𝕆 - 𝕔𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖 ____________________________
the drive to wooyoungs house was as it always was; calming. hongjoong leaned his head against the window, eyes catching all the different views and colors that passed by while they drove.
wooyoung next to him, humming along to a song that played softly on the radio, every once in a while he would look over at hongjoong, and then focus in on the road again, smiling softly at his best friends presence. "you know..." he started, getting hongjoongs attention, "i don't think we should order food today."
at this, hongjoong turned to face him, hand fumbling at a loose string from his skirt anxiously, he thought; something is going on, "oh- how come?"
wooyoung rolled his shoulders back, hands adjusting themselves at the wheel, "uh, nothing i think id just like to cook tonight, that's all..."
hongjoongs nodded, biting at his lip, "special occasion?"
"no, just feel like it." he shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
"hm, as long as you don't poison me- i'm down." he mumbled, eyes trailing back towards the window-
again, he felt weird.
¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.☆.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨
"my god- what is that smell?" hongjoong groaned, pinching his nose to try his best to rid of whatever scent was bombarding it, it was ashy- a thick warm scent and he could feel it in his throat.
wooyoung only laughed, closing the front door behind him and (after they both took their shoes off) tugging hongjoong past the kitchen and towards the living room, "you'll get used to it."
"used to it??? it's horrible-" then, he saw it. a cluster of things on the floor by the stairwell, a black bag; with pins and patches adorning the front, a pair of worn out black converse, and a thick, dark colored flannel.
no way.
around the corner, he heard a door shut and a pair of footsteps, wooyoung smiled, stopping to face hongjoong (who's eyes were locked onto the corner; dreading whoever was to walk around it- but he had an awful idea of who it could be and he never thought this day would ever come), "don't kill me but-"
there he was; the one boy hongjoong hated the most. between his lips, a lit cigarette- hongjoong understood where the smell came from then. he was drying his hair with a towel, a loose pair of shorts hung low on his waist and the rest was open to see, and his eyes- they trailed up hongjoong from his shoes up till they stared right back at him, glinting with mischief.
