Jongin thinks Kyungsoo is a bundle of deadlines, report dates, stacks of paper work, numbers and habitual mornings. He sees him and finds himself engrossed with the way his office is so, so perfect. How he represses the urge to misplace every small detail in his pristine little ‘thinking box,’ as Kyungsoo calls it. He finds satisfaction in making Kyungsoo’s head swirl with frustration—or maybe a bit of distraught rage; border line compulsive, coupled with his admonishing stare, to which he finds attractively appealing. It gives him a sense of peace, creating chaos.

Kyungsoo thinks Jongin is only filled with arbitrary and impulsive dreams; whims that pass daily, routinely, disorderly. He thinks Jongin can amount to so much. That his potentiality of succeeding makes Lee Sooman’s money go for a run. Jongin feigns insult to that, though, he never usually gives a about that anyway—which also bothers Kyungsoo on a highly different level.

Jongin is a loafer. He loafs for a living, and is fairly good at it too. It’s his lifestyle, he comments. Kyungsoo snorts, looking mortified at his action, clearing his throat, he retorts.
 

“What kind of lifestyle is that?”

Jongin shrugs, pushing a figurine on the shelf an inch to the left. “The loafing kind.”

Kyungsoo hastily stands and brings the object back into place, shooting a glare over his shoulder. “Highly useless and a time waster.”

Jongin paces around the room, peering into different things: something, he’s delightfully discovered, that also gets under Kyungsoo’s skin. “Have you ever seen a deer check a wristwatch? Check calendars for birthdays? Man has created time, with the fear of time running out.”

Kyungsoo scoffs, a look of indignation crossing his features. “You read too much fiction. And stop pacing!”

Jongin grins, with a glint of mischief. “And you don’t read enough, hyung. But then again, you've always had a bit of lackluster for,” he eyes Kyungsoo with a chuckle “entertaining stories.”

Kyungsoo sighs in defeat and stalks out of the room, fed up with Jongin’s bull, he mutters.

The latter calmly strides over to his desk, his sigh is laced with fatigue, and picks up the picture that’s been carefully preserved in a dark cherry oak frame. His eyes trace the joy etched onto faces. That was so long ago, he thinks.

The whisper of his voice trails in a small smile, “I just hope you have enough time left to see it again.”

[A/N]: Because it’s twelve in the morning and I have a phone in my hands. Kaisoo is also my inspiration for everything. I have this obsession for their characters. Kai will always be the misunderstood genius of society, someone who tries to break the bonds that Kyungsoo wears. And together, they trash the modern world, littering it with hopeful lies of possible and uncertain death, but that's the risk—the fun part.

Please, don't mind me, and just fill your head with thoughts of Kaisoo! ~ (Rainbows and unicorns are prohibited with adult supervision)