^ how is this any relevant? ^

warning(s): lee sungyeol; suave lee sungyeol; embarrassed wookey; stunned!gyu; slight insecure myungsoo

it's been such a long time. two weeks... has it been two weeks? i think it's been two weeks. quite frankly, i think we are horrible people to have kept you all waiting. i mean, the chapter is full of...words. you could even say this chapter is wordsy. with a total of 4006 words. many changes have been made onto this chapter. also many cuts because some things just need not be mentioned. because of this, some things in this chapter may appear vaguely described but that's because, at the point of editing, the chapter was already way overdue and it'd be bad to keep everyone waiting. our schedules are out of sync now so we won't be able to guarantee you a fast update for the next one, either. ;n;

but please do enjoy the chapter... ;u;

Sunggyu's eye twitches.

It's not so much a twitch of a muscle as it is a twitch of annoyance, and a bit of irritation. The cause of this little spasm isn't directly facing him—rather, the little thing is standing behind his even more bothersome father. The very same man Sunggyu often regrets ever forming a friendship with. This man deserves more than a small wiggle of muscle.

“I didn't say he would be staying over at my place,” Sunggyu mutters.

“That may be so, but he said Myungsoo invited him to stay over,” Howon tells him bluntly, one hand still offering an oddly bulky-looking rucksack. Sunggyu eyes it for a second too long for Howon's liking, “They talked about it when they were in class, yesterday, so you shouldn't bother with scolding your son over it. Besides, Sungyeol's doing you a favour. This is the least you could do to pay him back.”

“I own that house,” Sunggyu tries.

“And you never let any of Myungsoo's friends stay over. It's shameful,” Howon clicks his tongue, never once letting the bag he's holding down, “Think about it: if you let Sungyeol stay over for one night, your son gets that joyful experience of having his best friend sleep over—maybe play some games and share stories before bedtime. At the same time, you wouldn't have to worry about owing Sungyeol anything after having him do you a favor.”

“Favors aren't for free,” the boy announces from behind Howon. Sunggyu is almost speechless.

“What kind of things are you teaching your own son?” Sunggyu stammers. Howon shrugs.

“Things that he needs to know for him to survive in adulthood,” Howon tells him, shoving Sungyeol's—Sunggyu assumes that it's Sungyeol's, because who else would it belong to?—backpack into Sunggyu's unprepared arms. Sunggyu sinks a little, his arms straining under the weight of the bag, “Now take it and make sure to use my son's talents efficiently.”

“Why is this bag so heavy!?” Sunggyu heaves, “What can a seven year old possibly pack into a bag that would make it this heavy!?”

“Stuff. Duh,” Sunggyu could practically hear the boy's eyes roll. Howon chuckles.

“Just the necessities. You know: a few changes of clothes, spare slippers, spare underwear, a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush, his own shampoo and conditioner, his wallet, his planner, a book and his favourite toy car,” Howon lets his shoulders rise and fall again, as if everything he had just mentioned was to be found obvious, “I mean, that... Amongst other things.”

“You're saying there's more in there?”

“Could be. You never know what Sungyeol packs when goes on sleep overs.”

“He packed it?”

“Are you going to stand there and ask questions, or are you actually going to go before you're late for your own date—that, mind you, you should be serious about, considering the main plan is to sabotage yourself in front of two clueless dimwits,” Howon arches a brow. Sunggyu heaves a heavy sigh and nods in defeat, letting Howon make way for his cleanly dressed son. Sunggyu frowns.

How can a little brat like him dress better than me? Sunggyu asks himself, but doesn't bother or honour the question with any form of answer.

Myungsoo fidgets in his seat as his hyung settles down beside him.

The older boy looks something beyond gorgeous: with his brown hair loose but cleanly swept to favor one side of his face, his clothes almost professional with a blazer that made his shoulders broad, a serious glint in his eye but a dazzling smile on his face, and the boy also somehow managed to smell like a sweet dream. Myungsoo just cannot help but stare at Sungyeol with wide eyes and a fish-like gaping mouth. His hyung looks stunning.

Then he sees himself through the reflection of the car door's window: dark clothes that made him look like an outdated child's toy, unkempt hair that made him look like he was trying hard to look edgy or stylish, swollen eyes from taking a nap before picking his hyung up, and an almost pathetic little frown on his face. Such an awful-looking and badly-dressed creature should not be sitting next to one as attractive, as beautiful, as Lee Sungyeol.

“You're making a weird face, Myung,” the handsome boy turns to him with a concerned expression and an intense stare. As intense as someone his hyung's age could muster, anyway. It makes Myungsoo squirm in his seat. Upon seeing Myungsoo's uneasy gestures, Sungyeol shows a frown of his own, “You're not sick, are you? Because if you are then that means you shouldn't be here, and you should stay at home and your Appa is a bad Appa for not taking care of you right at this instant—,”

“He's not sick!” Myungsoo's dad yells from in front of them, “I am not a bad parent!”

“You're just saying that so you wouldn't have to take responsibility.”

“You shut your mouth, Howon's little devil spawn!”

“Poor Myung-Myung! I can't believe your Appa is dragging you around to dates when you're not feeling well! That is so irresponsible! Bad Mr. Kim! Myung! I'll call a cab! I'll take you home! You should go home and rest, and we should call this thing off—!”

“I'm not sick, hyung,” Myungsoo mumbles quickly, in a panic. He doesn't want to miss out on a date just because his hyung thinks he's sick! Myungsoo grabs hold of the older boy's arm firmly, “I just— I just— I just really think you look nice, hyung. And you look good in what you're wearing. And you smell good, too. And... And...”

Sungyeol beams at him, “You look nice, too, Myung!”

Myungsoo's heart skips a beat, and then it flutters. Myungsoo's feeling warm all over, a smile stretching onto his face and a flushed pink tint on his cheeks. It's even worse when Sungyeol lifts a hand to pet his dongsaeng's hair, fingers running through Myungsoo's soft black locks. The younger boy feels like melting against Sungyeol's light touches, and he feels as though his heart would be able to lurch out of his chest at any moment.

“Isn't that sweet?”

“Your parenting is still under questioning, Mr. Kim.”

“And the moment's ruined.”

As Woohyun takes a sip of his coffee, his whole body succumbs in short twitches. A strange tingle runs up from the base of his spine and a cold feeling overtakes his entire being. His fingers shake against the handle of his cup, deciding only then that he should set it down. His cold stare on Kibum drops as an uneasy feeling overwhelms him—or, rather, something far worse than unease. Perhaps it's a psychic sense of dread.

“What's wrong with you?” Kibum asks him with a cocked brow. Woohyun shakes his head.

“What's wrong with you?” Woohyun asks right back, clearing his throat.

“You're being really weird, and I want that to stop right now,” Kibum tells him with his arms crossed over his chest, “Also, we're sitting in the same booth. I don't want onlookers thinking that my friend is a creep. If that happens, I will leave this booth and explicitly tell people that I don't know you.”

“Because saying that totally explains why we both went in here together and waited for almost twenty minute in the same booth. Totally makes sense, Kibum,” Woohyun rolls his eyes at the blond. Kibum makes a sound, displeased and annoyed.

“Fine. I'll just tell people you're my socially impaired brother. That way, I'm regarded as a sweet and caring brother, and I might get points with drunken cutie,” Kibum smiles.

“Yeah. Except, he knows us. Idiot.”

“It's not a lie.”

“It's not the truth either.”

“So you admit to your faults?”

“Shut up, Kibum.”

Despite burning some of his time with a petty argument with Kibum, the feeling that still shakes him has not even begun to ebb away. If anything, with the minutes that pass, it grows even worse than it ever has been. If Woohyun was in a movie, he's pretty sure an orchestra would start playing some intense and suspense-driven music, the type you would hear in horror movies or the like. Woohyun could even feel his death coming closer and closer.

As if he were in class. As if he were in that one class, teaching that one child.

“What's wrong now?” Kibum tries again. This time, Woohyun spills.

“I feel like—I feel like one of my fears are coming through,” Woohyun tells his friend h