VIII

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Walking through the hallway the next morning with a pack of cigarettes deep in your jacket pocket, you heard an odd sound from Yangyang's room. You quietly knocked and went in once told to.

Yangyang was laying down, propped up on his elbow with his head in his palm. "Are you feeling okay? I heard a weird noise."

"I'm okay. I got a cramp in my leg." He smiled. "Are you okay?"

You shook your head yes. You felt okay.

"Would you like to come outside with me?"

Yangyang pushed his covers off of himself and got out of his bed. He stretched as he followed you outside and sat across from you on the porch. It was a bit chilly and he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, so you took your cigarettes out of your pocket and gave him your jacket.

"You still smoke?" He asked as he put your jacket over his lap. "It's not good for you."

You lit your cigarette as you said, "I don't do it very often."

The smoke that came from the stick of chemicals reminded you of so many things. The smoke from the fire that you were forced to endure twelve years ago, the smoke from Minsu's scorched house and the way he watched you get away but didn't say a word to the police.

You wrapped your mouth around the white object and inhaled, then exhaled with an attentive Yangyang watching you. You raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.

"Am I not allowed to look at you?"

You smiled at his sass. "You're watching me, Yangyang. Do you want to ask me something?"

"No." He smiled and got up, only to grab your face and squish your cheeks. "I just missed you."

You slapped one of his wrists and he started sulking. "I'm older than you."

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