five

It’s still insanely early in the morning when Donghae heads towards the author’s neighborhood, but the sun is already up and brightly shining onto the busy city. The sky is of a vivid blue and nearly cloudless above his head as he walks along the streets to the familiar house, which lifts his mood up until he feels almost excited to go through the day. Although ‘almost’ still remains the keyword of his sentence, quite sadly; the fuming cup of hot chocolate he has in hands is a clear reminder of his unachieved goal, and he can’t help but sigh a little dejectedly at the thought.

Indeed, it’s been almost a whole month already – thirty-one ing days –, and no contract has been signed yet whatsoever. Life ing , he decides bitterly – That bastard !

A disgruntled huff leaves his lips, before he determinedly speeds up the pace of his walking.

Donghae then starts humming a soft melody under his breath as he climbs up the short flight of stairs leading to the author’s house, then promptly goes in, unbothered by the common courtesy of knocking first. And, just as expected, the front door is still painfully unlocked when he pushes it, even in spite of his constant nagging about safety and potential robbers. A dark grunt of exasperation rumbles out of his throat as he frowns unhappily, and then blindly shuts the door close behind him.

Self-preservation is apparently a concept Hyukjae is still very reluctant to grasp. The poor bastard.

Sighing, he quickly dumps his bag and his coat in a corner of the entrance as soon as he is inside – God bless heaters –, perfectly aware the mess will only piss the other man off. He then heads towards the kitchen, where he knows the latter must be busy preparing their breakfast. 

Pancakes, he hopes fervently. Please, please, please – I want pancakes!

True to his assumptions, the author is indeed there, dressed in grey sweatpants and a casual white shirt, bustling around the bright room with a bowl of batter in hands. He is distractedly stirring the yellow-white mix, looking around the cupboards for more sugar and a pinch of salt.

And it does look like pancakes, Donghae notes happily – Hyukjae’s pancakes are heaven.

“Hey there, you great !” the brunet chirps happily and flops down onto a chair of the table, putting down the cup of hot chocolate onto its wooden surface. He half-contemplates settling onto the counter instead, just to annoy him, but feels too lazy to move at all. Plus, the joke is beginning to get old now. “What’s up?”

Hyukjae briefly glances behind him as he puts an old pancake pan onto the stove, then snorts, looking unsurprised. “Hi,” he greets with a thick hint of sarcasm. “Aren’t you supposed to call me hyung, kid? Or something? Considering I’m almost a decade older than you are?”

“Fat ing chance,” the brunet promptly retorts, pouting. “I’m not calling you hyung, or sir, or professor, or anything else that might imply I have even an ounce of respect for you. The Head of my department scolded me again yesterday because we still haven’t signed the contract, and it’s already the third time this week. It’s all your ing fault.”

“Who, Mr. Oh?” the other asks as he turns around and leans a hip against the kitchen table. “The guy you said who assigned you to me?”

Scowling, Donghae props his elbow onto the edge and holds the side of his face with his fist. “Yeah, him,” he sniffs unhappily. “The poor old geezer; he’s really only useful when he invites us to company dinners.”

The older man snickers, openly taking delight in his misery, before he reaches a hand out and takes a tentative sip of the hot chocolate he bought him.

Donghae then straightens up and stares at him, expectant. He asked Hyoyeon to do her worse earlier this morning, and he really hopes that today’s attempt is going to be successful.

Looking a little bemused by the taste, the other blinks slowly, as though trying to make out the different syrups added in, before he drinks another experimental gulp. Soon enough though, an intrigued eyebrow rises up as he stares down at his hot drink and hums contemplatively.

“Caramel and green tea,” he decides. “And –… wait, is that soya sauce?”

“Eww,” the brunet grimaces immediately. “I have no idea what’s inside, but – ewww. That just sounds awful.”

“Different,” Hyukjae corrects with a shrug. “And interesting.”

A smug smirk spreads across his li