The young boy props himself up with his arms as he cranes his neck forward to watch the first layer of snow form on the once grey asphalt pavement. His feet are wrapped snugly by a pair of dark green socks and they barely touch the stack of books he had prepared to make up for the height which he lacked in. Yet, he remains steady without any signs of falling backwards. He smiles widely, his eyes forming two curvy lines as his lips curl on the two ends. He loves watching snow fall, this queer interest evident since the first time he watched these small entities descend onto the ground when they first shifted into this neighbourhood. He grins at the white blotches forming on the ground, frequently reaching out to poke the window as though his delicate skin could feel the blistering cold of the beautiful snowflakes. He then pauses at the sight of a van stopping in front of the neighbouring house, his eyes widening with interest as he pushes himself up to sit on the platform. Pressing his small palms against the window, he watches a small boy around his age get off the van with a pout as an oversized grey beanie almost covered both of his eyes completely. Behind him, two adults get off and push him towards the gates, laughter ringing through the distance between the two houses. The said boy grins slightly and fits his hands into the pockets of his black jacket despite having gloves on. Bobby stifles a laugh as the boy almost trips on the step, distaste flashing over the young boy’s young boyish features – as he would describe it then.

They first talk a week after the family’s shifted over on one of the warmer afternoons where Bobby had gotten the permission to play in the backyard after continuously taking note that the younger boy frequented the area everyday at about this time. After a few minutes, the sound of padded boots squelching in the snow brings a little smirk to his face as he swirls around and waves a little too enthusiastically.

“Who’re you?” The smaller boy blinks at Bobby with a mixture of curiosity and hostility as his beanie stays perched precariously on his head. His voice is a little rough and he doesn’t smile much. Bobby gulps and attempts to reply him cheerfully.

“My name’s Bobby, or Kim Jiwon. I live next door!” He grins as he speaks, his fingers intertwined with uncertainty, “What’s your name?”

The boy doesn’t answer and simply looks at him for a few moments. The silence prevails until the boy sneezes and groans cutely at the weather. He then notices Bobby’s unfazed gaze and blinks repeatedly as he rolls his eyes awkwardly.

“My name is Junhoe. Goo Junhoe. I-it’s nice to meet y-you.” The smaller boy stutters and barely finishes his sentence before sneezing again.

“Are you cold?” Bobby frowns at the boy’s repeated sneezes. Walking over, he then peels the boy’s hands out from his pockets and drags him towards a warmer spot under a tree. Junhoe flinches at the sudden contact and tries to pull away but Bobby’s grip is tight, and he’s adamant on bringing him somewhere warmer. Bobby then asks if its better, and Junhoe nods curtly. The two boys then huddle on the curb and sit down together.

“Why’re you frowning so much?” Bobby starts.

“Why not.”

“Aren’t you happy that you shifted to a new home?”

“Sort of.” 

“You’ve got a beautiful house here.”

“Yeah.”

“Your replies are kind of short though." 

“…”

1.

“I’m just going to call you Jun from now on because –hoe’s difficult to pronounce.”

“Does that mean that I can call you Bob from now on and drop all formalities, because hyung is difficult to pronounce too and that plus your full name adds up to four syllables.” The eight year old taunts as he stacks a smaller ball of ice on the base which had been endearingly set before him by the elder boy.

"That’s unfair, plus formalities is a respect thing.” Bobby huffs and Junhoe looks up slightly with a cheeky grin. It’s been a little over two years since his family shifted over and he’s largely comforted by this boy’s company. As much as he might refuse to admit it, he made a great friend, or even a bigger brother. It took him more than a month to grow comfortable around his sunshine-like presence but his persistence surprised him – it usually took less than a week for other children his age to grow tired of his awkward façade yet Bobby stuck around like a piece of chewing gum stuck onto the bottom of a poor soul’s shoe, and despite the initial annoyance, he turned out to be, in his very own words (embarrassingly) written in his diary, warmer than the fireplace.

“Fine, hyung is a syllable long so I’ll call you that.”

“Good boy.” Bobby grins and ruffles the younger boy’s hair, earning a grunt and a scowl followed by a soft kick which he luckily dodges stealthily.

“Oh, mom wanted me to tell you that we’ll be leaving in a few days.”

The snowman tumbles and Bobby frowns, “What did you just say? Leaving?”

“We’re moving over to the city because they say that they found a spot for me in a school there which they apparently like more than my current one,” Junhoe stutters slightly as he speaks, “but I’ll be back during the school holidays, so we’ll still see each other.”

The older boy pauses for a few seconds before nodding, and spreads his arms out quickly with a beam, and Junhoe clicks his tongue with a hint of sass before hesitantly pressing his shoulder blade against his hyung’s chest, claiming that he only agreed to this because it would make up for six months of absence.

That night, Bobby finds himself feeling a little choked up as his mother tucks him into his blankets gently, pressing a soft peck against his forehead. Three days later after he sends Junhoe off and watches the car drive off until it’s entirely out of sight in the tranquil evening, he huddles in his blankets and cries for the first time in a few years, much to his mother’s surprise. But she holds him close, and he wakes up the next day to hot chocolate, a warm embrace, swollen eyes and an empty backyard.

2.

“I literally had just one day to my next test but my teacher decided to volunteer me to representing the level in some dance competition so I had to forgo my studying hours, like, what kind of mindset is that?” At the age of thirteen, Junhoe’s stumbled into high school with a few inches of height, a natural inclination towards dance and a distinct trace of sass in his words.

“That isn’t all that bad, you got the exposure you needed. Planning for the future, one step at the time, my buddy.” Bobby guffaws and flails as he almost falls off the bed when the younger boy prods his shoulder sharply with his toes and scoffs. He regains his balance and decides to flop over the younger’s back, his chest pressed snugly against Junhoe as he browsed through his file on the floor at the other edge of the bed. It’s one of their week long term breaks, in which Junhoe wouldn’t have been able to come back if not for his incessant whines and sulking phases which left his parents unsure of whether they should have felt attacked, concerned or helpless. (But it worked, and that’s all that matters.)

“Heard you failed your calculus test, hyung, good going.”

“Says the kid who struggled with the Pythagoras theorem,” Bobby scowls.

“Excuse yourself while I focus on my studying now, peasant.” Junhoe replies in the most deadpan voice he can produce at two in the afternoon and pushes Bobby off curtly before sitting up in the furthest end of the bed.

“You weren’t even studying to begin with,” The older boy mocks and pushes himself off the corner of the bed and rolls himself to where Junhoe was perched with his signature Cheshire cat grin and the latter has to cover his mouth to prevent himself from laughing and breaking out of character.

“Get the out, and calm yourself down, sit an arm length away from me and keep your ears active because I’ve got something to say.”

Bobby proceeds to shift himself a little in the weirdest possible manner, his movement set encompassing a fusion of a backward roll, a flip and basically being a hopeless blob. He almost falls off the bed but the younger boy’s self-proclaimed swift reflexes saves him with a tight grasp around his ankle. A sheepish grin is shot and Junhoe feels like puking for the fifth time in an hour.

“In any case, I’ll carry on. I’ll say it once so bask in the happiness of this godly news right after.”

“Sounds huge, spill it,” Bobby wiggles his eyebrows before sitting up, “does it have something to do with you finally passing your art, or how you secretly got me something huge from wherever your school is.”

“Is that all your brain’s filled with after living on the face of this god forsaken earth for an extra year?” Junhoe deadpans as he lets out an unflattering scoff, “It’s better than that.”

“What, a girlfriend? Finally slipping into puberty and raging hormones?” The older boy has to dodge to avoid getting hit by his best friend’s favourite (and oldest) tumbler which was, thankfully empty. But in his defense, it was difficult to predict because things rarely made Junhoe happy. Not that his friend was a grumpy punk or anything, but things barely impressed him unless it was related to Michael Jackson CDs or Christmas (or both of the above, in the form of a gift which Bobby counted on every year).

“Forget that I said anything,” Junhoe rolls his eyes and ignores Bobby for the rest of the afternoon until his parents drop by to pick him up on their way out for a gathering, conveniently filtering the boy’s husky voice out without much of an effort. It’s only after Bobby’s back from buying time for Junhoe to change into his flannel that he finds a parcel sitting on the corner of the room which Junhoe had strategically hidden earlier with his long, lanky frame. Bobby finds an endearing scribble at the top right hand corner of the packaging reading “Hey, idiot. You don’t deserve this, but I’m a great person saving up good karma for the full expenses paid scholarship to study in my dream university, so take it.”

“Aw, bro.” He literally coos, which makes Junhoe feel like he’s victimized or something so the younger boy opts for the classic death stare as he spins around to remind Bobby of how he doesn’t deserve such a beautiful planner because his handwriting is still no different from chicken scratch – and just because he eyes it dubiously every time they go to the store, it doesn’t mean that it should, miraculously appear in his room on a warm afternoon. But the moment he turns, he knocks headfirst into Bobby’s shoulder and doesn’t comprehend anything but Bobby’s warm breath against his neck as he says thank you repeatedly like his life depends on it. Junhoe stops himself from grinning the moment his lips curl, hurriedly shifting the focus point to the fact that he’d spent an hour ironing his shirt the previous night while prodding Bobby’s sides. 

“Get off, I almost burnt my entire hand off while ironing this last night.”

3.

Once Junhoe realises where the subway is heading towards, he demands a refund not just for this half-graduation trip but also for all of the years that he’d spent as Bobby’s friend. At seventeen, he’s not only caught up with Bobby but in fact, surpassed him in terms of height which proves to be convenient 90% of the time. Junhoe actually takes pride in being able to use his height as a counter against Bobby’s nights spent in the gym whenever they get involved in childish banter or almost legitimate arguments. But clearly, today plummets headfirst into the remaining 10% because Junhoe doesn’t see the point in rejoicing the transition from junior to senior high. It only highlights the fact that he’s going to be subjected to the crunch of the education system and probably grow eyebags and get cancer from the amount of instant food that he’s stocked up in his hostel room. But it’s a historical moment, Bobby had argued before literally dragging him out of the house after jolting his sensitive spot on his side. And so Junhoe complies, because he really doesn’t want to listen to him whine for the whole day, and what can go wrong right?

“We aren’t going anywhere near the ferris wheel, or the roller coaster, you heard me?” Junhoe deadpans as they stand in the queue in front of the ticketing counter at the amusement park, indulging in the fact that despite being stuck in a crowd, being a head taller than most people grants him fresh air.

“I’ll try my best, I have a natural inclination for things exciting,” Bobby says in a seductive voice as he fixes his snapback with a smug grin. Junhoe nods with an unimpressed face, clearly thinking of a way to wipe that smile off his face but failing miserably.

Everything proceeds pretty well for the first half of the day, most of it spent in the arcade because Bobby was salty about losing to Junhoe at the basketball game. Being tall with long limbs really changes things, the older boy mutters with a dumb accent at the end of their twentieth game when Junhoe knocks his snapback off his head with an unaffected “oops, my bad” before bolting towards the counter to claim his prize for getting a high score three-fold of the previous record. Turns out they ran out of great choices, so Junhoe opts for the sleazy sloth stuffed toy at the corner of the rack which reminds him of Bobby, just that it’s fluffy and much cuter since it isn’t menacing in any way. (He later gives it to him claiming that it’s his long lost twin, just that he got all of the good genes. Bobby likes it a lot, unexpectedly, and hugs it throughout the rest of the day. 

“All that sweat’s probably seeping into the cloth and it’ll be deformed by the end of today if you don’t let go of it,” Junhoe says in a matter-of-fact tone as he carries the tray of food towards the table in the corner of the café with the ugly six-year old kid (by his standards) trailed behind him with his usual bob in his step. Junhoe literally has to pry the animal out of the bigger animal’s arms as he mutters about how he regrets giving this poor thing to him.

“Hey, let’s go to the ferris wheel later,” Bobby prompts halfway through the meal, leaving Junhoe spluttering through his last bite of the salad with an expression of betray and astonishment, “I made a huge sacrifice today by missing out on the roller coaster rides alright, just once?”

“No.”

“June, c’mon,” Junhoe doesn’t even have to look up to know that Bobby’s making one of those disgusting puppy-eyed pleading faces and lets out a soft sigh before nodding.

“Only because I don’t want to throw up after I spent so much money on this darned set meal.”

Junhoe regrets all of his life decisions the moment their capsule is near the peak, the city lights streaming through the glass panels as he makes a mental note to never look down because good lord, the floor is a dumb glass panel too and he doesn’t want to imagine falling through if something goes wrong. Bobby’s having way too much fun with his face pressed up against the glass panel on his end of the capsule with the stuffed sloth leaning against his lap like a miserable deflated blanket (or to be more accurate, his worn winnie the pooh stuffed toy which had miraculously suriived a thousand years of manhandling). But the way he’s smiling causes Junhoe’s breath to hitch for a moment because he literally looks like he’s just seen the stars up close and for a moment, Junhoe has a mental debate about whether the city lights can even compare to how bright his dumb smile is.

“You look like a deranged five year old kid leaving home for the first time,” Junhoe says in place of his thoughts because he really meant to say something like thanks for bringing me out today, or I’m glad that you’re having fun but his head-to-mouth filter really doesn’t like kind words.

“It’s beautiful, you can’t come to an amusement park without looking at the city at night,” Bobby turns to glance at his counterpart frozen to that one end of the chair with his eyes barely open, “you’re really missing out big time, June.”

“Not my kind of thing.” Junhoe retorts as he tries to take a short glimpse at his feet and the nothingness below, but fails miserably as he lets out a soft and hopefully inaudible sound of distress. Bobby, unfortunately picks that up and gets up, shaking the capsule a little (which gives Junhoe a heart attack) and plops back down right next to him.

“What the hell?”

“Isn’t it ironic that the tallest boy in class is afraid of heights?” Bobby says softly as he scoots closer to his counterpart and laughs lightly when he tries to create distance between the two again but fails miserably because god damn it’s so high he’s paralyzed.

“…”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s all in your head, and if you look out there for just a moment, you’ll get why risking your life to that little 1% chance that the ferris wheel will collapse or the capsule will fall off because the five year old entity will rust so badly that it’s falling apart,” Junhoe barely registers half of what his friend is saying because with their shoulders pressed against each other, he isn’t sure whether to attribute his inability to breathe to the height or the proximity and ends up letting out yet another embarrassing sound of distress.

As soon as they get out of the capsule, Junhoe is hell bent on cancelling their friendship and everything that they’ve gone through together because he’s so unexplainably nauseas and his palms are still sweaty. He’s glad that he’s finally grounded and he can look at the floor without seeing right through it but he’s still a little disorientated so he decides to keep the revenge for a later date and slumps against Bobby, “I’m dead. Never again.” Bobby simply snorts and wraps his arm around his shoulder as they walk towards the subway station.

Junhoe wakes up the next morning to a couple of photos from Bobby on Kakao of him being frozen to the spot on the ferris wheel along with a blurry selfie of him asleep on Bobby’s shoulder on the subway. 

kimbab: kid!junhoeasleep.jpg

kimbab: happy half-graduation, brat!!

junhoe: you better get the up and be dressed because i’m coming over with an axe right now.

kimbab: try me ; )

4. 

As usual, Junhoe isn’t really surprised that Bobby’s late, but rather he’s surprised by his generous patience in waiting for him at the corner of the café, ignoring the dubious looks Donghyuk has been throwing him for the past hour. (“It’s odd to see you here when you’re not on shift, I never knew you had such a fiery passion for Jinhwan’s baby,” the said boy had muttered in a dreamy voice, to which Junhoe shot the most deadpan face he could produce at eleven in the afternoon.) In his defense, he loved his job enough since it paid him sufficiently to cover his expenses over the holidays. Besides, getting that scholarship at the end of the year wasn’t a given and if anything, he didn’t want to rely entirely on his parents for his tuition fees because that’s for the weak, yes?

And so when Bobby stumbles into the café forty-five minutes after their supposed meeting time, he makes a mental note to hide the urge to grin a little upon seeing the elder boy’s flushed cheeks peeking out from his ugly green scarf. His expression apparently turns out disastrous and somewhat constipated because the first thing that Bobby does is crack into a stupid grin and flick his forehead playfully, saying something along the lines of “so this is what a week without oppa does to you, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Junhoe spits as he ducks a little, glancing towards Donghyuk’s direction who’s clearly having too much fun with squealing like a teenage girl. There’s literally only two reasons why he’d react like that, one being the fact that he thinks there’s something going on between the two of them, and two being that maybe he likes Bobby. Albeit extremely frightening, Junhoe figures the first situation is more probably since Bobby really doesn’t fit his ideal tall, dark and handsome rich librarian look. At least not in baggy pants and a hideous banana printed green scarf. 

“Earth to Junhoe, are you even listening? I just spat a sick rap and you’re in a daze, you’re enjoying this far too much aren’t you?” Bobby wiggles his eyebrows and induces a hiss from his counterpart, “Woah there, chill babe.”

“And so this is why our dear Kim Jiwon is still single, and trying too hard to mingle,” Junhoe says as a-matter-of-factly before taking a sip of his green tea latte which he clearly, is better at preparing as compared to Donghyuk.

“Now that’s mean, you just stabbed me at my sensitive spot.” Junhoe 1, Bobby 0.

“Glad that you’re self-aware, now would you mind telling me what you called me out for? I’m a busy man.” Junhoe clears his throat as he leans back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I got that scholarship straight out of the oven with subsidies to study music along with a pretty attractive monthly allowance,” Bobby chimes, stopping midway to thank a giggling Donghyuk for the dubious-looking caramel macchiato and banana muffin freshly served at their table, “which means that after toiling away in high school, I’ve made it.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me. Congratulations, hyung!” Junhoe grins widely and claps once before stiffening for a split second and letting out a soft cough, “I mean, that was easy enough. Seems like anyone can get a scholarship these days, is our government getting way too generous? ‘Grats anyway.”

“You know, it doesn’t hurt to compliment your oppa sometimes,” Bobby snorts before reaching over to attack Junhoe’s muffin, literally downing half of it in a single mouthful with an unapologetic smirk. Junhoe deadpans and stills for a second at what’s left of his muffin before trudging towards the counter to get a new one and also to conveniently hide the red tint riding up his neck. It turns out that they’re out of matcha muffins from the morning shift and Donghyuk’s barely halfway through the next batch so Junhoe settles for kicking his counterpart sharply on the shin while retrieving his green tea latte from the mess that he’d made of the table.

It’s not until they’re one stop from home that Junhoe finally gives up on ignoring his friend’s incessant whale noises and pauses his calm-your--and-quit-being-a-brat playlist (name courtesy of Bobby on one of the nights where he left his phone unlocked, but all of his favourite songs are in there so it works all the same). Sighing sharply, he glances over at Bobby and gives him a little fist bump, “I’m happy for you, really. After all that hard work and intense late nights spent juggling writing your raps and the usual workload. I mean, wow if your eyebags looked that bad through the ty connection that skype offers, then they must’ve been worse in person.” 

“It wasn’t too painful, since I love music and that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life,” Bobby grins lightly as he shifts himself to let someone get to the door, his body pressed comfortably against Junhoe’s arm when the younger makes a mental note that this is one of the few topics that gets Bobby serious and actually thinking about what he says, which makes him feel more like the hyung for once, “and I chose to juggle all of that so no regrets, and this scholarship’s really just a bonus and pretty unexpected with how my finals turned out.”

“I think you look really cool when you’re talking about music,” Junhoe blurts out without thinking, only realizing what he’d said when the boy before him raises an eyebrow and lets out a soft ‘huh’, “I mean, your music is cool, so it’s great that you’re having a chance to pursue it and like spread that if it becomes your career.” 

Bobby just smiles at his comment and presses further against Junhoe’s side as more people get on at the next stop, leaving Junhoe to repeatedly remind himself that there’s really no reason to attribute feeling this fidgety to the way his friend’s eyes curl into little crescents reminding him of that night where he’d practically pressed his face against the glass to watch the city lights flash by like an innocent child – it’s probably how packed the train is, and how he’s practically allergic to close proximity and human contact (even though he only feels grounded that night when Bobby’s fingers slip into his trembling hand, intentionally or unintentionally).

5.

Fast forward a couple of years, and they’re lying on the carpet in their shared room with Junhoe’s favourite CDs strewn all around them. It’s the spring break after going through finals and countless celebration outings involving Junhoe practically getting kidnapped and placed in the front seat of a roller coaster and him getting his revenge by hiding all of Bobby’s snapbacks in the storeroom, they’re right where they’re supposed to be – not on the floor, but sharing a room in the university which they’d spent years dreaming of entering, Junhoe tumbling into his preferred course of law with a reasonable scholarship. And so with projects and reports to finish, the two boys end up passing the chance to go home for the break, instead spending the first day of their holiday on clearing the room because with Bobby’s newfound love for floral pyjamas pants and new shoes, their cluster head isn’t all too happy with the state of their room.

“When will you stop prancing about in that hideous match of neon pink and orange floral pants like you’re about to go for a underground rap battle in it and actually help me with this?” Junhoe snorts as the said boy nearly trips over the wires connecting his phone to his prized speaker. Bobby merely guffaws and decides that its an apt response to start rapping even louder like he’s in a god damn club, waving his arms about like there’s no tomorrow. With his messy hair and stupid winnie the pooh boxers peeking out from beneath his oversized shirt, Junhoe feels like he’s about to pop a vein stifling his laughter and so he puts the broom aside with a wide grin and takes a large stride over the garbage bag in the middle of the room to unplug Bobby’s phone.

“I was just getting to the bridge!” Bobby whines, and Junhoe visibly softens as he pauses for a moment but does it anyway and slots the overheating phone under his pillow, “alright fine, I’ll be productive but just for you, princess.”

“ off.” Junhoe snorts as he throws Bobby’s supposedly long lost pink socks at his friend after digging it up from behind his bed, gaining an odd sounding squeak from the opposite end of the room followed by incoherent and breathless laughter about being reunited with his baby. Sometimes, Junhoe really wonders how he’s been friends with such a dork for more than half of his life and how they practically get closer and more comfortable with each other every year.

Everything proceeds smoothly and they finish packing their clothes back into somewhat neat piles in the closet at about seven in the evening without major hiccups besides the instance where Bobby uncovered a long expired carton of low fat milk at the bottom of their shoe rack and nearly spilled it all over their carpet while stupidly trying to carry out an experiment of “finding out how disgusting it actually smells”. After lugging the garbage bags out to the dumping area, they’re back lazing around on the carpet with Bobby’s R&B playlist on loop.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here, at this university and actually roommates,” Bobby exhales in one breath, turning over to glance at Junhoe. He doesn’t have much memories of literally looking at his features up close often, but heck, he’s grown so much and for a second he wonders about where his puffy cheeks went.

“After desperately bribing your previous roommate-for-a-year to let me shift in here,” Junhoe literally sounds slightly endearing and Bobby’s caught off guard but shakes it off because he’s probably tired after all that toiling, “that was fun, and really fortunate that he agreed so readily after we mentioned pizza coupons.”

“Wasn’t it,” Bobby grins and snorts because he’s right, Junhoe is exhausted and practically passed out on the carpet. Reaching over to lower the volume of the music, Bobby stretches a little further to grab his roommate’s pillow and prop his head up gently (because he doesn’t count on his strength to hurl this nineteen year old up to his feet and onto the bed). And just like that, Bobby settles for watching him sleep for a little bit, unknowingly hyperaware of every small breath he takes with his slightly parted lips because he looks so comfortable and vulnerable – the traces of sass and spite smoothened along with the absence of his frowning defense mechanism. It almost feels surreal, like he might suddenly stop breathing or jolt awake and eye Bobby with this suspicious look as though he thinks he might’ve drawn all over his face with a pink Sharpie or something. But ten minutes go by without any of the above happening, and so Bobby doesn’t really think before brushing Junhoe’s tufts of bleached hair aside and leaning over to promptly and hastily press a light peck against his forehead.

“What the ,” the younger boy groans and stirs a little as Bobby barely catches his breath and jolts backwards, knocking into his speaker clumsily. But the said boy merely turns to lie on his side, his arm draping carelessly over Bobby’s knee before snoring softly with a really, really slight grin.

“I’m dead,” Bobby mutters before shaking his head and leaning back against his bed frame, exhaling sharply.

Junhoe wakes up at 3am with an aching back to see his roommate fast asleep with half of his body hanging haphazardly off the side of his bed in neon green floral pants and snorts before clambering onto his own bed drowsily.

+1 

It’s almost eleven when Bobby receives a voice message from Junhoe asking for him to run over to the convenience store to help him fetch a coffee and a monster energy drink because he’s supposed to pull and all-nighter to complete his first critical review of the term by nine the next morning. He sounds more distressed than usual despite his hushed tone and Bobby can only comply, because that’s what best friends are for right? Food couriers, more dependable than Fedex. 

“I’m going to die,” Junhoe mutters when Bobby plops down into the seat opposite him in the cozy study room and pushes the drinks over to him discreetly even though they’re technically safe because despite the no outside drinks rule, the librarians have long gone home because they see Junhoe working late so often that they literally entrust him to locking up after he’s done without hesitation. Bobby’s about to ask about how he’s going to down both drinks when Junhoe clicks his tongue and says a single, “watch me” before pouring both the energy drink and the black coffee into his tumbler with a satisfactory smile. 

"You’re really going to die,” Bobby decides when Junhoe promptly smirks and drinks the whole thing in one gulp.

"If I die an unsightly death, you wouldn’t want to see it so hurry along and get some sleep, you have a trial with the producers you’re interning with right?” Junhoe scoffs before pushing his tumbler back into the corner of the table as his friend shoots him worried looks, “I can’t work with you looking at me like that anyway.”

And so Bobby leaves after using the excuse of fatigue to hang around for another fifteen minutes because it’s the fifth consecutive night that Junhoe’s been doing this and he really, truly fears for his sanity. Afterall, going through criminal records, and murder cases especially in the middle of the night in a quiet and dark library isn’t a very cozy thought. Even staying up in a recording studio isn’t that bad because at least you can blast some Sesame Street song if you’re really scared. Turning back to glance at his friend who’s impatiently waving him away, Bobby leaves.

It’s about three in the morning when Bobby’s done with skyping with his brother when his phone rings it’s striking hip hop tune with a string of messages from Junhoe that really seems to be never ending with typos in literally every message. 

                  junbrat:

                  junbrat: oh ym ogd

                  junbrat: svae me

                  junbrat: ti’s almost three and i’m still in the library and i’m

                  junbrat: lsoing my grip on reality and oh ym oGD

                  junbrat: i think i sw a gohst

                  junbrat: fukc my lfie

 He’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be laughing so bad but Bobby literally doubles over and nearly knocks the shoe rack down on the way to the door after grabbing his jacket and snapback. He’s literally in a tank top with thankfully plain black trainers and it’s so cold he thinks he might just freeze five steps out but Junhoe really isn’t stopping with the messages and so he practically runs towards the library instinctively in the dark.

“Knight in shining armour’s here to save the nearly six foot tall princess,” Bobby chirps as he pushes the door to the study room open to find Junhoe literally crouching over his notes so that his line of vision covers no more than the yellowing pages of that reference book and doesn’t even look up to retort his stupid statement. 

“I never knew the dauntless Junhoe would be afraid of something like this but hey, it’s understandable since you’ve been overworking for the past week,” Bobby continues as he forcefully pries Junhoe’s forearms apart and turns him around on the creaky swivel chair to face him, “but it’s alright since you know, quote you, my hideous presence scares everything away.”

Junhoe merely makes a frustrated sound.

 “Hey, it’s ironic enough for a skyscraper to be afraid of heights so man up and don’t be a creepy who’s afraid of the spooky stuff,” Bobby says in the most serious tone he can produce at three in the morning and knows it worked when Junhoe literally shakes out of his grip to kick his chair pointedly. With a victorious smirk, he then pulls his dumb winnie the pooh stuffed toy out of his pocket and plops it strategically on Junhoe’s reference book saying something like, “it’ll give you strength, I swear. It protected itself from my clumsy self, its probably strong enough to protect you from everything else on earth.”

Eventually, they end up sitting shoulder to shoulder as Junhoe presses himself unknowingly against Bobby’s side, the stuffed toy pushed to one end of the table with Bobby falling asleep every five seconds against his shoulder. It takes Junhoe until about four thirty to finish his first draft by which the effects of the energy boosting concoction had reached it’s peak along with his imminent insanity of staying up for an entire week. The crunch week is over and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s in that grey area being wide awake and barely conscious but he starts saying things without thinking, as if his head-to-mouth filter is literally dysfunctional.

“As much as you’re a delirious, disgusting creep, we’ve literally been friends for fifteen years and recently I’ve been wondering about what I’d do without you,” Junhoe starts with his hands fit snugly in his pockets, it’s cold, too cold and Bobby’s noise is evidently turning pink but he’s too tired to wake his friend up, much less get up and walk back to the dormitories.

“Your fashion sense disgusts me but did you know that you’re actually so ing cute half the time and of course my height’s the ideal but you’re arguably borderline hot with that build of yours.”

“I normally hate skinship and all that touchy-feely bullcrap, but it’s so comfortable when it’s you?”

“Oh really?” Junhoe pauses for a split second while trying to make sense of those two words he just heard because that doesn’t really sound like his own voice but it can’t be anyone else’s because Bobby’s asleep unless, oh . 

“What the , holy crap,” Junhoe blurts as he stands up quickly, letting his groggy roommate save himself from tumbling off the swivel chair and bringing it down with him because this isn’t how it works, that wasn’t supposed to happen and his ears shouldn’t be heating up and turning bright red right now when he doesn’t have a hoodie or a snapback to cover it, “oh , sorry for that, uh.” 

“Does that count as a confession because I’m totally digging those compliments,” Bobby says and he’s so smug despite being drowsy and his voice literally sends jolts down Junhoe’s spine with how raw it is. And so he opts for clearing all of his items into his bag with a single sweeping motion and makes a mad dash for the door without actually caring about whether his roommate would get back to their room alive in that state – but that’s probably the least of his concerns at the moment.

+1.5

Junhoe wakes up the next morning with a comfortable warm weight pressed against his chest and he nearly reaches backwards for his pan on the shelf next to his bed before realizing that it’s actually Bobby who’s rubbing his eyes with a grunt possibly because he had pulled his arm out from around his roommate’s waist the moment he found this deadweight lying next to him. His breath hitches the moment their eyes lock and he opts for attempting to get off the bed so that he can get changed because they’re probably late for their first class judging by how bright it is outside but a hand catches hold of his wrist when he’s halfway off the bed – and he suddenly feels like he’s done for.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bobby says in this try-hard seductive voice and Junhoe shoots him a disgusted look before returning the greeting but his words don’t have any bite to it and he’s actually, kind of, smiling.

Junhoe belately realises that Bobby isn’t wearing a shirt and lets out a stupid squeak before throwing a black tee in his direction, “get dressed, you little poop.”