thirteen

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There is no time
To rest senselessly

The heat of the sun beat down on the side of my face, making it feel like it was placed against a hot stove in comparison to the coolness of my other cheek

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The heat of the sun beat down on the side of my face, making it feel like it was placed against a hot stove in comparison to the coolness of my other cheek. Baekhyun sat opposite me, his spectacles settled on the bridge of his nose, watching my hands as they moved over the printed sheet.

"It's so hot," I complained, squinting as I turned my face to the open window, raising my hand to block the sunlight from getting in my eyes. "How can you bear it?"

In the past hour or so, the two of us had developed something of a rapport. From what I could see, neither him nor I was particularly interested in becoming good friends right off the bat, but a few icebreakers and empty but apparently important conversations later, here we were.

"I'm used to it." He said quietly, and bent his head over the papers spread out on the space of the bed between us. "Concentrate."

"Yeah, sure." I rolled my eyes quickly so he wouldn't notice, almost unbelieving of the boy's extreme conditioning. "If I can with all this sunlight."

When he raised his eyes to mine again, his forehead was crinkled in a frown. "Just close the blinds, Y/N." He muttered. "It's not that deep."

"Oh, right, I thought I would need your blessing or something." I said through gritted teeth, slipping off the side of the bed and successfully shutting off the hard light from the window. "Ah, ice."

Baekhyun had a small, amused smile on his face as he watched me climb back up on the bed, rubbing my heated cheek with my fingertips. "Indoor person?"

I thought of the lush leather interior of the GT86, and wondered if cars counted as outdoors. "I don't know."

"Hm." He hummed, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand, his eyes skimming through the rough sketches I'd listed out on plain white paper in the remainder of the lunch hour. "What about this one?"

His finger traced the lining of the piping drawn just right of the sheet's end, and I started explaining the measurements to him, gesturing with my hands and periodically tapping the paper. He watched me with careful eyes, almost observant, and I kept speaking, not realising that I had dropped to a ramble.

Finally, when I had come to something of an awkward pause, he stared at me, glasses still resting crookedly on his nose. He reached up and straightened them, allowing himself a small smile. "You seem to like your subject."

"Well," I hesitated. "If you didn't pick that up in the last two hours."

His smile widened to reveal teeth, and he leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms somewhat authoritatively over his chest. "You like cars?"

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