" A penny for your thoughts?" Taehyung says, placing his Ironman lunchbox beside Hoseok's twitching palm.

They are situated inside the swelling supermarket's food corner where there is an obscure redolence of greasy, processed food and the complacent odor of human interaction. Somewhere in between the bustling lines of people, and the incessant dinging of items being rung up, Hoseok finds himself slouched over one of the leaning red tables in Sumi's Shakes. There's perspiration leaking from his armpits and soaking around the front curve of his blue employee shirt, and clinging to his forehead in troublesome beads. And, belatedly,  Hoeseok concludes that Taehyung is, indeed, speaking to him.

" Does it look like I have spare change, Tae?" Hoeseok quips with a voice edging on annoyed.  This head is down, resting in the crook of his protesting right arm, but Hoeseok shifts to gaze up at Taehyung's expressive face.

" A noddle for your thoughts?" Taehyung shoots back with an effortless smile, one that reaches his eyes and punctuates the syllables that float from his mouth. "- , just tell me what's wrong." He pleads, a slight downturn in his smile, but Hoseok notices it. 

Hoseok recognizes the glimmering sheen barely suppressed in Taehyung's brown eyes, and he wishes that he hadn't. 

" It's nothing new, honestly. At this point, I should be used to it; yet I can't help but to feel hurt." Hoseok admits with his own frown. One that Taehyung finds a sick sense of familiarity in.

The people encompassing them constantly shuffle, moving here and there but right here - right here, at the table Taehyung and Hoeseok inhabit it feels like a lapse in the time continuum.  It never matters what the individuals around them are doing, because as the minutes and days slip away Taehyung and Hoeseok unceasingly discuss the same issue. The sun that reappeared into an atmosphere dense with dazzling stars, and the predilection connecting the sky and moon.

The sun presents itself in the form of a boy named Park Jimin, a past lover of Yoongi, and Hoseok hates him. He despised that the sun barged in and slowly  lit up their night. The touch of heat that beat upon his back burned rancorously, and he burned  with embitterment. 

" Jimin called again, I'm guessing." Taehyung uncaps today's lunch, it's soup.

Hoseok voices a dry grunt, "Asking for more money." It spills out barely above a whisper, " And time," He adds as an afterthought.

 Last night, Hoseok reached for Yoongi and saw the silver glitter covering his palm. Time, Hoseok decides, is not his friend - not their friend.