Let's Date : Choi Youngjae [DISCONTINUED]

< eight >

"You're an idiot,"
"Says the one who broke his ankle,"
"I hate you,"

The Thai boy burst out laughing, while Youngjae just kept on glaring at him for a while longer then lowered his head and let out a sigh.

"Sorry, you guys will have to perform as six only, because my stupid ankle broke,"
"Well... Jackson's foot was out and you tripped over it, does it count as his fault, too?"

Youngjae shrugged and shifted his leg carefully on the pillow, carefully not to move it too much or accidentally hit something. He winced when a sharp pain shot up his leg from his ankle.

"Three months," he groaned, flopping his upper half down on the bed and crying out when his ankle hurt again. "I feel like I'm dying,"
"You look like you're dying, too," BamBam agreed, nodding. Youngjae reached under his head for his pillow and threw it at BamBam's head, which he dodged.

Youngjae looked over BamBam's shoulder to see where the pillow had gone. BamBam glanced back, too, and then looked back at Youngjae.

"You better get that,"
"Ne,"

BamBam immediately stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, picking up the pillow and handing it to Youngjae nicely. Youngjae raised his eyebrows at his sudden politeness, which BamBam merely shrugged his shoulders to.

Five minutes later, BamBam left, because Jinyoung had already called him for practice, leaving Youngjae alone. He let out another groan and laid back down, reaching out blindly for his phone.

He heard a thud all of a sudden on the wooden and he sat back up again, his eyes wide as he looked over the edge of the bed. His phone. On the floor. Facedown. A crack on the screen when he flipped it over.

Shit.

~*~

"Hi, Youngjae!" a cheerful voice woke him up from his sleep. He sat up, his eyes still half closed as he looks around the room to find the voice even though he already knows who it is.

A giggle came from the right side of his head and he immediately turned to look at her, finding her smiling widely and holding a cup in her hand. He took it gratefully, thanking her.

"How do you feel?"
"Terrible," he sighed, drinking from his cup. "They have to perform as only six instead of seven. I feel so guilty."
"Don't be. Accidents happen, you know,"
"But this... It's making me feel so bad..." he frowned and lied back down on his pillow, putting the cup on the bedside table.

She walked away for a moment, and came back dragging a chair behind her. She sat down on the chair, positioning it beside his bed, and stared intently at him.

"Will you still go to their showcase?"
"No." Her answer was automatic and his eyes widened.
"No?"
"No." she repeated.
"Why?"
"I'll stay with you." then she was quiet, before adding something, "But of course, if you'd rather me go and watch them and leave you alone, then naturally, I'd go and–"
"No! Stay! Stay with me!"

Her cheeks were suddenly tinted by a pink blush and she blinked twice, then lowered her head. He felt his cheeks heat up and he flips onto his side, momentarily forgetting about his cast until the pain hit him.

"Ow!"

His shout brought her back to reality and she stood up immediately, hovering over him and gently turning him so he was lying on his back again.

"You pabo, how could you forget your injury?" she frowned, biting her lip as he sat up. He made a face at her then burst out laughing at her pout, reaching over for his cup of coffee and taking a long drink, the smile playing on his lip.