Where are my pants? / part 2

“Take that away from me.”

Jongin wiggled the slice of cucumber.

“Eat it.”

“No.”

“It’s healthy.”

“I don’t care.”

“Eat it.”

Jongin poked Taemin’s lips with the piece of cucumber, oblivious to Taemin concocting a murderous plot.

“No.”

Jongin scoffed and pulled away from Taemin, disappointed that his friend wouldn’t listen to him. Therefore, he put on his best smug smile and presented the slice as if he got a prized possession.

“I dare you,” he pointed at it, “to eat it.”

Taemin’s eyes flashed, the plan in his head about to emerge into the world, teeth and nails ready and the muscles in his legs burning. The rage subdued when Wonshik leaned across the table and swallowed the piece of cucumber whole. Jongin looked at his fingers horrified and hoped the wetness on his skin was water from the cucumber, not saliva.

Wonshik chewed proudly, back on his seat.

“What’s wrong with cucumbers?”

“They ,” Taemin answered while he stuffed his mouth with rice.

“Taemin doesn’t like cucumbers,” Jongin clarified, happy to see the two hadn’t cursed each other yet.

He had been striving for so long to make Taemin get along with other people, but it seems that no matter how hard Jongin tried, Taemin followed a pattern whenever someone new wanted to become acquainted with him. First, he would glower at them and say nothing, until the atmosphere became thick. Then, like a knife, he’d slice his opponent with a ‘ off’ or ‘whatever’ and walk in the opposite direction. Jongin saw it all too often not to wonder what exactly made the kid he met back when they were barely learning about the universe so bitter.

He remembered his friend being a lot chattier, less shy, always an energetic kid that enjoyed the company of others, someone he idolized when it came to gaining attention – and forever in the company of Jongin. Not like that changed. Even when they had to pick their beds in the room they’d be sharing, Taemin immediately discarded whoever’s belongings were occupying the bed next to Jongin because he wouldn’t have it any other way. Fortunately, that person was Wonshik, who also silently accepted that Jongin came in a pair that year.

Speaking of Wonshik, Jongin knew he was a great guy and a great friend, so he dearly hoped that Taemin, who had been oddly acting a lot nicer than usual, would accept him and they could form a golden trio for the remaining of the holiday. Also, Jongin still felt guilty about Taemin getting into the hospital a couple of months ago. Some of the changes he had been observing in him had been popping here and there since then.

Jongin tilted his head, watching Taemin eat.

He wondered sometimes if another soul took over his best friend, a soul of the wicked, a soul from the underworld that had waited for centuries for some foolish kid to die and for the soul to be reborn with a body.

Taemin caught him staring. The noodles in his mouth dropped back on his tray as he gave Jongin a goofy smile, his lips glistening with oil.

Jongin smiled back.

“You look like a drunk chipmunk.”

Taemin scowled. “How the does a drunk chipmunk look?”

“He’s more handsome than you, Kim.” Wonshik interrupted, grinning at them both. “You’re the one that looks like a monkey.”

“Monkey?” Jongin straightened his back, his pride on the line. “Speaks the ape.”

“Hey, apes are int