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03.
insecurities & intimacies

insecurities & intimacies

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A door creaked, a head turned.

"Seonghwa?"

Somewhere else in the dull city, an apartment bathed in warm light was in the midst of preparations. Just moments ago, a phone vibrated with messages of dinner plans and forgetful minds.

Now it laid silent, as a small male busied himself by chopping vegetables. A fluffy sweater swallowed him and his fingers just barely curled out of the cuffs to work diligently.

"It's me, Joong." A lone voice replied from the hallway.

"I didn't hear you greet me!" The sweatered male called, placing down his knife in slight irritation.

"You didn't? ...I'm sorry." Seonghwa had forgotten to call for his husband when he walked in. It was a habit of his, that suddenly broke itself in a slump. He swiftly untied his damp shoes, shuffling into the kitchen to behold Hongjoong in his adorable glory.

"Did you just start making dinner?" Seonghwa asked, looking over the semi-messy scene. There wasn't anything on the stove, only bundles of assorted vegetables by the cutting board.

"We're not having dinner here tonight." His husband responded simply, continuing to chop.

"Then, why're you cutting vegetables?" Seonghwa strolled over to the island, planting a gentle kiss on Hongjoong's head of sandy hair.

"Yeosang invited us over and forgot to buy a few ingredients for the dish, so we're providing them." Hongjoong explained and let a smile grace his lips at the affectionate gesture. "I thought of cutting them for efficiency's sake."

"I see." A beat. "What's Yeosang making tonight?"

"Beef stew." The knife's muted hitting occupied the moments of silence between them.

"It should be good then." Seonghwa hummed, nodding slowly. "He makes good homemade food."

Hongjoong nodded in unison, sweeping the now completely sliced vegetable to the side. A small pile had already begun to accumulate. "I'm eager to see Wooyoung again. Don't you think Yeosang waited long enough to invite us over?"

He placed the next leafy victim on the cutting board, looking back up to see Seonghwa had wandered away. The male was standing behind the living room couch, his arms folded over top of the cushions. His eyes were glued to the sliding window doors and the city outside, whose lights were blurred by a runny screen of rain.

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