𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡,
𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫,
𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡,
𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭
𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.
Park Jisung is nothing if not obsessive; and his new obsession is a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jaemin sighs, looking up at the sky. It's no longer a clear blue with little to none clouds, nor is there a obnoxious, blinding sun peaking out to warm you up. Normally, the boy always wishes for the bright star to just fuck off, annoyed by it's constant presence. Now, the time he needs it the most, it's gone.
Kicking a rock and watching it slide across the wet sidewalk, Jaemin shivers and tightens his coat around his body. He walks slowly, allowing him to observe the drops of water sliding off bushes to make room for the newer ones. The sky is grey and humid, which causes Jaemin to pull his hood over his head to prevent his hair from frizzing up. He's inside a very familiar neighborhood, one he's known all his life and before he knows it he's knocking on the plain red door.
The boy almost doesn't recognize his best friend's mother when she opens the door and ushers him inside.
Mrs. Lee has always been a woman of pride, always keeping herself well put together. You'd never see her without red painted lips and coated eyelashes. Her hair was disheveled, baby hairs standing all over the place and she was still wearing her turkey pajama pants (even though Thanksgiving has passed) and a fluffy blanket thrown over her shoulders. Her cheeks were cherry-stained, and she doesn't say a word as she leads the boy to the dining room where Mr. Lee is sitting.
He doesn't look much better. The man, who's usually working hard hasn't even thought about his job for the past couple of days. Also adorned in pajama's and slippers, he holds his head in distress. Looking up when hearing footsteps, he musters a smile and stands up to greet Jaemin, hugging him.
"How are you, boy?" He asks, his arm still around his shoulder.
Shrugging, Jaemin answers, "Not so good."
Nodding his head in understanding, Mr. Lee goes back to his spot at the table. Jaemin sits next to him.
Walking into the kitchen, Mrs. Lee calls with a shaky, unstable voice, "Would you like some coffee, dear?"
