There are days that are just bad. Nothing really must happen, you just have a bad mood and everything makes you hate the world. Even the smallest action that didn’t go how you wanted it to go can make you snap. Especially if you have short patience. And, unfortunately, Lee Jihoon was one of those people.

He woke up in a bad mood, and everything made it even worse. The weather. Ambulances, firetrucks, motorcycles, everything that made more noise than a regular car. And, of course, Mingyu.

Because he just had to put the laundry on wrong settings and now some of Jihoon’s best clothes were ruined.

“Why can’t you do anything properly?!” He asked him angrily.

“Anything?”

“Yes! You always do some stupid !”

“Oh well, I’m sorry Mr. Perfection, I didn’t notice that you are the only person in this universe that can’t be wrong sometimes.”

“You try to turn it around? Make everything about me?” He was at the verge of screaming. “Fine, if you’re so smart, fine!”

“I’ve never said that, Jihoon.”

“So now you’re implying I can’t understand what do you mean?”

“Jihoon-”

“Really, that’s fine,” the boy groaned. If he was a character in a cartoon, there would be black smoke above his head. “Take care of that.” He threw his clothes at Mingyu. “I don’t want to even think how much of my money just got wasted,” he stated and left for the bedroom where he locked himself up. He had to write an essay anyway, so why not now.

But he couldn’t concentrate. All he was thinking about was what he should tell Mingyu – initially. But the more time passed, the more he thought of things he shouldn’t had said. That was driving him crazy.

After about one hour and a half he gave up on the essay (he’s written only one short paragraph anyway) and went to the kitchen to find some snack. He found some chips in one of the cabinets, but unfortunately, it was placed too high. Normally, he would just ask Mingyu but now-

He couldn’t even think too much, looking up at the shelf, because his boyfriend magically appeared behind him and reached for the snack. He placed it on the counter in front of Jihoon.

“You want coffee?” He asked quietly, pouring water into an electric kettle.

“Yeah,” the older answered in the same manner.

They ended up together in the kitchen, sitting by the table, both with their laptops and notes from classes, mugs of steaming coffee on their sides, bag of chips ripped open between them.

At first, they didn’t talk. Then, started with some complaining about their studies. And slowly started behaving like nothing happened earlier.

Jihoon wasn’t very good with his feelings. Apologizing wasn’t his forte too. But Mingyu knew him – and by just simple actions, like washing the dishes or feeding the cat without complaining, Jihoon was implying he was sorry. And Mingyu understood.