Myungsoo doesn’t hide his stare all through out when Sungyeol washed the dishes, the latter refusing Myungsoo’s help, saying that he couldn't torture a hangover man as if he wan't one himself. Myungsoo stops and stares at the latter and smiles a little, Sungyeol had the same picturesque back he remembered, with his lean waist and broad shoulders, his towering height, and his pale nape.

Was this a dream? Was he still dreaming?

He subtly puts a hand on his cheek and pinches the flesh, cringing at the pain and slaps it one too many times. The pain felt real.

Was he becoming delusional?

“L” Sungyeol starts without turning back, “Stop slapping your face, it’s disturbing.”

Myungsoo bites his lips in embarrassment and scratches his cheek, running towards the living room not aware of the chuckle that escaped Sungyeol’s lip.

Sungyeol seats down at the couch, opposite end from where Myungsoo was—the latter was seating at the edge—and lets a satisfied sigh escape his lips. He looks at the television and watches, not noticing the side glances Myungsoo were giving him.

Myungsoo continues to look at the screen, glancing at Sungyeol every now and then as if confirming that this was true and assuring himself every time.

“You know,” Sungyeol started, “I don’t think it would be wise that we don’t talk to each other.”

Myungsoo widens his eyes and whips his head, “We will need to converse because of work and obviously because we live in the same apartment.” Sungyeol continues, Myungsoo doesn’t hide his disappointment.

He hums in response, “I think so too.”

He flinches at the sound of phones ringing at once—both his and sungyeol—unbeknownst to Sungyeol’s growing fear as he looks at his phone that was on the coffee table.

Myungsoo stands up to get it and answers, “Hello?”

Sungyeol follows after.

Seconds passed before the both of them bid goodbye to the ones they were talking to, looking at themselves in the eye before sighing.

“I guess there’s no weekend for us.” Myungsoo pouts, not expecting a reply as he saunters towards the room. He was sure the fleeting serenity of the moment with Sungyeol would break after the call.

“I guess there isn’t.” Sungyeol answers, chuckling a little.

Myungsoo smiles at the response before opening the door of his room and changing his clothes to a more suitable attire with a bounce on his steps and a flush on his cheeks. Despite the depressing weather and the depressing thought of working on days like these, he was happy.

He walks out of the room with a white v-cut shirt and a maroon blazer, his jeans tight and perfect, his hair was slicked back and his eyes were coaled to a minimum. He hears Sungyeol’s door opening seconds after and he sees him with a black dress shirt paired with a black leather jacket and a black jeans, his hair was parted to the side, framing his face and his brow was raised as he looks at Myungsoo.

“What?” Myungsoo asks, looking at himself in the mirror. “I look good.”

Sungyeol gives him a slight twitch of scowl, something he had always done, and Myungsoo still wonders whether this was a dream. “Take a scarf with you.”

“I don’t need it.” Myungsoo dismissed as he continues to look at himself in the mirror and fixes his hair.

Sungyeol sighs at him, walking to the rack and taking a white scarf before walking to where Myungsoo was. He