“Oh my god, hyung, you broke the mirror!” Seungri said, his eyes wide as his gaze darted back and forth from the broken shards of glass to Jiyong. Jiyong suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“You’re over reacting,” Jiyong said as he bent down to pick up the broken pieces.

“Hyung,” Seungri whined in a way that would make one think that it was him who had broken the mirror as opposed to Jiyong. “That’s seven years of bad luck.”

“More like a bunch of voodoo superstition,” Jiyong muttered as he reached for the last piece of glass. He swore softly under his breath when he felt the glass slice through his finger.

“You see?!” Seungri exclaimed as Jiyong at his injured appendage. Seungri pouted at him for a moment before taking the glass out of Jiyong’s other hand and disappeared into the kitchen. He came out with a wet paper towel and a band-aid. Without a word, Seungri takes Jiyong’s finger and wipes it clean. Jiyong hisses at the sting of the antiseptic disinfecting his finger. Jiyong watches as Seungri carefully wraps the bandage around the cut.

Jiyong looked up in time to see Seungri’s face, the younger boy’s tongue sticking out and his brow furrowed in concentration. He was adorable.

“There!” Seungri said when he finished, his face positively glowing with happiness at finishing the task. Jiyong couldn’t help but smile in return, reaching out to ruffle Seungri’s hair only to have the other boy duck out of his reach. “Hyung, don’t mess up my hair.”

“Aish, you’re such a brat,” Jiyong said, but dropped his hand. “Thank you for this though.” Jiyong gestured at his now bandaged finger. Seungri beamed.

“No problem hyung,” he said. Jiyong smiled and got up, set on going back to his room to continue with the experimental outfit he had been trying before he had accidentally knocked over the mirror. He hoped Seunghyun wouldn’t mind too much. That was the mirror he had chosen, after all.

In his thoughts, Jiyong tripped over the edge of the rug, almost ending up face first in the drywall if Seungri hadn’t reach out in the last second, catching him around the waist before he could do so. They remained in the awkward position of Jiyong half in Seungri’s arms for several moments before Jiyong cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said, trying to alleviate his embarrassment. “Thank you, maknae-ah. You’ve gotten strong.”

“Hyung!” Seungri whined again and Jiyong almost groaned. “I told you, you broke that mirror and now you have seven years of bad luck!” Jiyong scoffed.

“Please,” he said. “I’ll be fine.” Seungri wrinkled his nose in distaste that made him look remarkably like a panda.

“Hyung,” he repeated. Jiyong glared at him. Seungri backed down.

***

Jiyong was mad. No, scratch that, he wasn’t mad, he was livid.

This had to be the worst day in his entire life. First, walking out of the apartment building to be soaked by the sprinkler that had just so happened to start in the exact moment he passed by. He had changed and when he made his way down the street, some stranger bumped into him and spilled coffee all over his brand new shoes. He narrowly avoided being run over by a car, almost had paint spilled on him from overhead, and his stylist had accidently dyed his hair bright pink.

Not that he didn’t look fantastic in pink, but it clashed with his outfit.

In short, Jiyong was tired and angry and a fashion abomination. When he walked – stormed – back into the hostel, Seungri was sitting on the couch. Seungri looked up when the door slammed and the boy’s eyes immediately darted up to Jiyong’s hot pink hair.

“Hyung, what happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Jiyong growled as he took off his jacket – which was stained with paint, thank you very much – and tossed it onto the couch. He dropped back onto said couch, nearly missing it, but managed to save himself at the last second and landed with a slight bounce. Seungri frowned at him before his eyebrow shot up.

“Seven years of bad luck, hyung,” he said, his eyes widening. He was over to Jiyong’s side of the couch in a flash. “This is your bad luck.”

Jiyong let out a groan and ran a hand over his face.

“It’s nothing,” Jiyong said. “Just a bad day.” Seungri tilted his head, giving him the appearance of a confused puppy.

“It’s your bad luck, hyung,” Seungri said slowly, as if he were talking to a small child. Jiyong scowled and got up to hear a loud ripping sound. He froze, turning around slowly to see Seungri biting his lip in an attempt not to burst out laughing. Seungri’s nostrils flared in the effort and Jiyong gave him death glare.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Jiyong growled. Seungri’s nostrils flare even further and he blinked rapidly, his gaze pointing to the floor. The boy’s hair fell into his eyes, but Jiyong could still see the mirth that shone in them.

“But hyung,” Seungri said softly. “Are you really wearing panda print underwear?” Jiyong’s growl came from the base of his throat as he leapt for Seungri, who darted out of the way, getting out of the way before he could be tackled.

“Seungri!”

“Hyung! Your pants are going to rip even further!” Seungri said in between loud giggles. Jiyong stopped, planting his onto the couch to keep from further embarrassment. Seungri rubbed a hand over his eye, wiping away a st