peach starbursts ━━ h.hj + k.sm

1.9

first person pov 6 - Seungmin

I drag myself out of bed at 10 the next morning, knowing I have to get up some time. I promised him I'd be over, so I'll go.

I hate myself for how much the text message got to me. I hate myself for having operated under the guise that he may have liked me. That was beyond stupid.

What I need to focus on right now is the friendship. Although it hits that he doesn't like me, he's one of the only friends I have right now, and I genuinely enjoy spending time with him. I will have to do what it takes to keep the friendship, that's all I can do.

We're painting today so I don't put a lot of thought into my outfit, and I end up in old blue jeans and a baggy white shirt, laughing that I somehow ended up in light-colored clothes. I tend to wear darker colored clothes, in some part for the aesthetic but mostly because I tend to spill food on myself. Black doesn't stain.

I slip on my shoes, old slides that I won't mind getting paint on, and climb out of my window.

I soon find out that slides are not the best option for climbing trees. I manage to make it down after an embarrassing amount of time and climb up to his window.

I knock four times, wait and then two times, the same signal he used only a couple of nights ago.

He appears at the window immediately, startling me, and opens it. He's smiling.

"Well hello to you too," he says. His smile is so beautiful.

He waves for me to come in, and I do, pulling myself over his windowsill.

He's looking at me, trying to hold back a laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, looking away.

"What?" I demand again, trying not to get defensive.

"You're not going to like what I'm about to say," he laughs.

"Try me."

"Okay," he pauses for a minute before saying, "you look really good in light colors."

"Oh shut up," I fight the blush in my cheeks by scowling, and he laughs again.

"I told you."

It's quiet for a minute before I realize I should respond. I don't know how.

"Thank you," I say and it comes out softer than I intended. More serious.

"Yeah," he says quietly, his voice suddenly serious as well.

It's silent for a minute and I don't know what to do. The situation is too quiet. It's almost intense.

What was I over here for? Oh yes, paint.

"Do you have the paint cans?" I ask, desperate for a change in conversation.

"Yeah!" he says, snapping out of a daze. I realize that he was staring at the hole in my jeans where they're ripped at the knees. Huh.

"Yeah," he says again, walking over to the corner of the room where the cans are stacked.

"So I have the yellow and the blue, and I think I'll paint the wall behind my bead blue. Then we can do yellow everywhere else. I like to take pictures out of this wall at night," he points to the wall with the window facing my house, "so I don't think the blue should go here. What do you think?" he looks over at me.

I think I have a better idea, but I worry about voicing it. It isn't my room.

I decide to anyway.