Taehyun

 “You!”

“M-me?” I sputter, intelligently.

I can only blink in shock as this half- boy just stands there and glowers at me angrily, eyes piercing through his blond fringe. I certainly wasn’t expecting to meet my new roommate under these circumstances, let alone for that person to be the poor guy I bonked over the head at practice today. I guess that’s my luck. Needless to say, I’m getting entirely bad vibes as the kid just stands there, glowering in the doorway. In nothing but a towel, I might add. I smile awkwardly in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“So, um, you must be my new roommate? How’s it going?” I say, wincing when my voice cracks.
More glaring.

“Uh, so, I...I’m really sorry about what happened earlier today,” I continue, “It was just a big accident!” I can’t believe he’s still angry. How many more times can I say sorry to him? I’m trying my best here!

“I told you. It’s. Fine.” Really and truly I believe it is not, but he’s been very adamant on rejecting each and every one of my apologies. So, I let it drop.

“Ah, okay. Um, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“It’s Beomgyu,” he spits and removes the towel from his waist.

“Jesus Christ, man, have some shame!” I screech, immediately shielding my eyes before I witness anything obscene.

“What kind of freak do you think I am? I’m not you idiot.”

OH.

I carefully peek through my fingers and note that Beomgyu is, indeed, not and does, in fact, have a pair of boxers on. What was I supposed to think though? Who wears a towel still when they already have on clothes? Weirdo.

Beomgyu just rolls his eyes and throws his phone on the top bunk, crawling up right after it. “Listen, “ he sighs, “I’ve had a really long day, and I just want to go to bed. Please, don’t bother me.” With that, he puts in his earbuds and lays down to face the wall.

“Oh. Okay.” It kind of stings, but what can I say? I’d probably be pretty annoyed, too, if I were him.

Over it, I turn back to my desk, determined to finish all of these club applications before the night is over. I’ve got several to read through: Premed Society, Yonsei’s student EMS, a break dancing club, and three acapella groups amongst other options. Even though I already play soccer for the university, I know it’ll reflect positively on my graduate school applications to be well-rounded. Besides, I at least like the idea of attending some of these clubs, so the effort I put in now should hopefully pay off in the future in multiple ways. Just as I pull out the first application, however, a resounding knock sounds at the door.

“He-llo?” someone calls out, hesitantly. It sounds like that guy that I met when I moved in yesterday, Choi Yeonjun. I wonder what he wants? I get up to open the door, but Beomgyu’s voice halts me in my tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses, “Don’t let him in.”

“Why?”

“Just don’t.”

This kid. I’m not going to reason with him, but I also don’t want to be rude and just ignore Yeonjun when he can clearly hear that we’re in here. I open the door and Yeonjun immediately breezes his way into the room, entirely uninvited. Maybe I kind of understand why Beomgyu doesn't really want him in here…

“I heard yelling,” he says, taking a seat in the chair at Beomgyu’s desk, “so I came to investigate. Certainly, you guys can’t be fighting already?”

“Um.”

“Really! Now what did you do to make Tyunnie angry already?” Yeonjun pouts up at Beomgyu’s back, but the blond doesn’t even acknowledge that anyone’s spoken. I frown at Yeonjun’s straightforward approach; it’s not like Beomgyu was being a jerk for absolutely no reason. Also, Tyunnie? I’m getting lots of dangerous vibes from this potential interaction. In an attempt to prevent any possible damage, I grab Yeonjun by the arm and try to pull him up.

“Listen,” I say, hurriedly, “it was just a misunderstanding! Everything’s fine. Thanks for checking in on us, okay?” I push him towards the door, but he attaches himself to the frame to prevent his complete ejection.

“Wait! That’s not the only reason I came over. I have a proposition.” He looks at me and scowls up at Beomgyu again, “Soobin and I think that we should all go out tomorrow. You know, to get to know each other! Oh, also, because it’s one of the last days to go out before school starts. It would be a good way to kick off the year, don’t ya think?”

I ponder that for a bit, and conclude that the concept doesn’t sound horrible. Besides, I think a drink or two could really help us all become more acquainted and comfortable around each other. I’d really like to at least be friendly with everyone in the house.

“Yeah,” I reply slowly, “I think that would be gre--”

“No.”

Yeonjun’s head whips toward the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, “Excuse me?”

Beomgyu pulls out his earbuds and turns his body halfway to face us, just enough to see around his shoulder, “You guys can go, but I won’t be joining you.”

“But why not? C’mon, it’s just one night out,” Yeonjun whines.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“But it’s tomorrow,” I chip in, almost regretting it when Beomgyu instantly shoots lasers at me, “s-so you should be feeling better by then, yeah? Besides, if you really hate it you can always leave early?” I overlook the glare of sheer death he’s giving me and try to think positively. Even though Beomgyu’s not the most polite person I’ve ever met, it would be nice to see him let loose and have fun. I’m sure it would be pretty interesting, too.

“I’ll pay too!” Yeonjun says quickly, “Your hyung’s treat!”

Beomgyu’s eyes narrow as he contemplates the idea. With a heavy sigh and a look of exasperation, he puts his earbuds back in. “Fine,” he mutters.

Regardless of Beomgyu’s lack of enthusiasm, that seems to do it for Yeonjun. He flashes the blond a cheeky grin and spins out of the chair.

“Great!” he sings on his way back to his room, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at ten sharp.”

Even though he’s a bit annoying, I really like Yeonjun hyung. He’s quite kind and easy to get along with. With a weary smile, I console myself that tomorrow will probably not be as bad as I think it will be and plop myself back in my desk chair. Not wanting to provoke the monster in the top bunk again, I quietly collect my club applications and finally get back to work.

***

I feel weird, and it takes me at least thirty seconds to realize why. My left arm has gone completely numb to the point where I can’t even move it to wake it back up. Although, I suppose that’s what I get for falling asleep at my desk again. I lift my head up, groggily, and open my phone. Eleven in the morning! You’ve got to be joking.

I groan and try to stand, only to realize that something heavy is on top of me. A blanket? Did I sleepwalk? It's either that or…

“Your teeth were chattering in your sleep.” Beomgyu emerges from the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at me. “It was annoying. Also, you should really try to sleep with your eyes closed. You looked dead, and it freaked me out.”

“U-uh thanks I think...and I will? I’m sorry I kept you up.” I glance at my phone again. “! I’m so ing late!”

I rush to my duffle bag and pull out all of my gear from last night. Obviously I won’t have time to change in the locker rooms since practice started at ten thirty. Ah, me! Without a second thought, I strip down to my boxers, yanking my jersey over my head and strapping my shin guards to my legs as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Beomgyu just kind of standing there, staring.

“What’s wrong?” I stop pulling at my socks to look over at him.

Beomgyu starts and inhales sharply. “Ah, nothing, I just spaced out. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Okay.”

I don’t have time to ask questions, so I grab a change of clothes from my drawers, shove them in my bag, and sprint out the door. The faint aroma of freshly cooked rice and 된장찌개 (doenjang jjigae*) causes my stomach to grumble, but I try not to think about it. I have to get to practice ASAP.

It’s disgustingly humid outside, and I almost throw up as I force myself into a jog towards the direction of the school. But it doesn’t matter. I worked so hard to get on this damn team; there’s no way I can ruin that by being this irresponsible. I’ve never done something like it before, so why the hell start now?

Running in this heat is excruciating, so I almost cry with relief when I see the school gates come into view. The field is just around the corner. I can already see the rest of the team working in pairs on footwork drills and my coach yelling at some poor soul for any number of reasons. As I sprint up to the group, I feel a sharp whack on the back of my neck. My is grass.

“Kang Taehyun! It’s only the second week of practice and you’re a whole hour late. Care to explain why?” I spin around to face my coach, the infamous Lee Jinho. His dark brown eyes are stern and calculating, although they betray an inkling of concern..

“I-I overslept. I swear, it won’t happen again, I promise! Give me whatever punishment you think is necessary,” I add, really hoping that my honesty will win me a couple kudos. It doesn’t.

“No, it won’t happen again if you want to stay off the bench. Twenty laps after practice tonight.”

“Twenty!” That’s five miles!

“Do you want to make it thirty?” I shut my mouth at that and shake my head meekly. As I turn to join the rest of my teammates in drill practice, his heavy hand lands on my shoulder to pull me back around.

“You’re a good kid, Taehyun. And you’re probably the best midfielder we have on this team. I just don’t want you to start forming habits you’ll regret later, okay?”

I’m pretty touched by that, I’ve got to admit. “Yeah, okay.”

After a good two hours of working on passes, cone drills, etc. it’s eventually time for a scrimmage. Jinho separates us into teams, and I take my position. I wish my head was in the game right now, but, honestly, I feel completely out of my element today. I only just pull of a Cruyff turn* before passing the ball to a senior forward, Jeon Jungkook. With a stunning leap, he barely catches the ball with his chest, spinning around the last of the defense to take aim at the goal. He shoots without hesitation, securing the win for our team.

From the way he looks at me, I know Jungkook is not impressed with my performance. Although I’m already beating myself up at overshooting my pass internally, it upsets me more to see that I’ve disappointed my hyung. He jogs over to where I stand by the bleachers and bumps my shoulder. I look up at him shyly, but he doesn’t seem angry at all.

“What’s going on today, Tae? First you’re late to practice and then you’re off your game, too? Everything okay?” My heart flutters slightly at the note of concern in his voice, and I can feel the tips of my ears burn, most likely an unflattering shade of pink.

“O-of course, hyung! Just didn’t get enough sleep last night, ya know?”

He isn’t convinced, “Taehyun, come on. I know you, and I know your sleep schedule. You’ve never gone to bed before 2 am. Yet that never stops you. What’s really going on?”

I consider telling him. I really do. After all, it would be nice to confide in someone, especially someone kind like him. But I just can’t.

“It’s really nothing,” Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, but I hold up my hand to stop him, “Please drop it, hyung.”

I know he wants to press the issue. Instead, he gives me a sad smile and a pat on the head.

“If you wanna talk I’m here, okay? I know I’m all old and stuff, but I can understand a lot if you’ll let me.”

Before I can respond, Jinho’s whistle shrieks from across the field, signalling us to group up. After some technicalities about the practice schedule and other events, everyone’s free to leave--except me, of course. Jungkook just winks at me, and heads out.

I might spontaneously combust.

Once everyone is pretty much gone, I start my twenty laps. Although painful, I’m kind of glad for the solidarity it gives me. Now that I’m alone, I finally let myself acknowledge what’s been bothering me today, what’s been messing with those anxious feelings I’ve been trying so hard to repress lately. Why do I keep feeling like I’m losing control? And how come it’s so much worse than it’s ever been before?

You’re almost the age Mom was when she got sick.

I chew on my lower lip and run faster, trying to ignore the logic and emotion behind that notion. I try not to let the raw fear that courses through my body consume me as I consider the possibility. I am my own person, I have my own life, and I am not her. Genetics aren’t everything, right?

But when you share half of your DNA with that person, isn’t your risk exponentially greater? Tainted blood will always remain tainted, after all.

I come to an abrupt stop right behind one of the goals. Suddenly, it’s really hard to breathe. I just need to take a second, to get rid of the tension that’s building in my brain. I need to think about something else, something real.

I try to remember my coping techniques--specifically the ones that are most useful for my obsessive thoughts. If I make a list or series of tasks, that should help. I run the events of today through my head and try to find the patterns in the day’s activities. Sure enough, as my mind mulls over the familiar sense of routine, I can feel my body slowly start to relax and my heart unclench. I take a deep breath and count to ten.

It works or, at the very least, masks the problem because twenty laps later all I can concentrate on is the utter exhaustion that threatens to overwhelm my whole being. I roll up my jersey sleeves to seek relief from the heat that burns my skin and grimace at the ridiculous amount of sweat that causes the itchy fabric to so offensively cling to my body. I’ll regret my enthusiasm for punishment tomorrow, I’m sure, but I pretend I do not see it.

Sighing resignedly, I chug as much water as my body can hold and contemplate my trek back home. It’s roughly five o’clock. Even though practice ended at four, it took me about forty-five minutes to run my laps and fifteen more to recover. I’m definitely going to slowly walk back, so that’s another thirty to forty. My whole day is, literally, gone. To top it off, I haven’t even eaten anything yet, so my stomach feels like it’s caving in on itself. I’m cranky.

The walk home is rather peaceful, although uneventful. Only Huening Kai is downstairs when I get back, immersed in coding God knows what (as per usual). I shoot him a quick hello, to which he cutely wrinkles his nose back at me and points at the mess that is my appearance.

“You look so gross, oh my god. Did someone throw you in a pool or what?”

“Haha. Funny.” I roll my eyes, “My coach gave me extra laps today for being late. It’s also like 200 degrees outside.”

Kai whistles at that, “Yikes. Sorry, buddy. Yeongsook was wondering why you ran out so fast and missed breakfast.”

“Mmm, yeah. I should probably eat something before we leave tonight. You are coming, right?”

“Nope, minor with no fake remember?” he declares tapping his temple with his index finger, “Besides, even if you guys were going to an club, I still have a buttload of code to make by the end of the night. But I expect ya’ll to bring me out another time, yeah?”

“Of course,” I smile at him. He seems content with that, subsequently, returning to his computer screen. I wave goodbye and run upstairs to shower before my clothes decide to stick to me forever.

I notice that Beomgyu isn’t in the room, and I’m pretty grateful because I feel absolutely disgusting and am not feeling up for small talk at the moment. I peel off my destroyed uniform and hop in the shower, letting the steam dissipate all of the stress and restlessness from the day. I try to think about more positive things, like how fun tonight will be and consider the prospect of getting closer to my new housemates. Regardless of how tired I am, I’m actually pretty excited, now that I think about it. Soobin and Yeonjun seem really nice, albeit loud, and I’m not averse to befriending them. And Beomgyu, well...maybe he’s nicer than he seems?

I’m still hanging on that thought as I towel myself dry and put on a hoodie and my favorite pair of black Adidas sweats. I’m honestly a little intimidated by my roommate. He seems a bit distant and easily provoked, a combination that I am certain will not fare well in this household. Even so, I do hope he eventually warms up to the rest of us.

After acquiring some hastily-made cheese ramyeon (yes I’m nutritionally deficient), I make a fortress on my bed and prepare myself for a well-deserved Netflix binge. Yeonjun said we’d leave at ten, so that gives me about four hours to just relax. And, relax, I do for all of five minutes.

Knock, knock, knock.

Alone time is overrated anyways, I guess.

“Um, yes, who is it?”

“Taehyunnie!” It’s Yeonjun’s voice. Lord save me. “Let me in please!”

“Alright, alright I’m coming,” I huff, dragging myself off of my bed. I open the door and am met with a very smiley and very...decorated Choi Yeonjun.

I can’t say I’m too shocked by what I see; if Yeonjun’s fashion choice wasn’t as extreme as his personality it would have actually been upsetting. Let’s just say, I’m not disappointed. He’s wearing a black form-fitting crop top that sports a surprisingly flattering wrap around detail at the waist. His tight faux leather pants are offset by a green and black plaid...half skirt? That’s new. An excessive combination of belts and chains loop around his hips, but somehow, he pulls it all off. Yeonjun just taps one of his outrageously platformed boots, shakes his glitter-adorned blue hair, and winks at me, “I know, it’s great right? I couldn’t wait until we left to see what it would look like, so I put it on just now. Soobin nearly lost his mind.” I’m still trying to process why Soobin would have lost his mind over this when Yeonjun grabs me by the shoulders and stands right in front of me. He looks me up and down and tuts, the distaste clear in his eyes. “You plan on going out like this? Hm?”

“I-,” I’m really at a loss for words here. It’s four hours before we leave. Who gets ready four hours before they go out?

“It will not do,” he sniffs, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to my closet.

“Yeonjun hyung...it’s only six o’clock. Aren’t we leaving at ten?” Yeonjun rolls his eyes at me as he works his way through my, admittedly, monochrome wardrobe. I swear, he isn’t even looking at half of the clothing he tosses aside.

“You really have nothing to wear? As a big, bad jock I would have thought you’d at least have something a little spicy for parties and such.” Parties? Since when?

“What’s wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?”

“Taehyun!” Yeonjun looks offended, “You really have no sense of fashion, do you?”

My eyes flick to the mirror hanging on the door. I can’t argue with that. I guess I don’t really think about dressing for anything other than comfort most days. It’s not that I’ve never put in effort before, I just...don’t usually have a lot of reasons to? After all, approximately 75% of my life these days is on the field and the other 25% holed up in my room studying. No, I don’t go out often at all.

“Well, you’re very lucky I’m here to help. Otherwise getting free drinks would have been a bit of a chore for you.”

“I’m not trying to get free drinks from anyone hyung!”

Yeonjun just shrugs at that. “Suit yourself. You could if you wanted.” The older boy’s eyes widen as he finds something in my closet that is, apparently, worthy of his consideration. I can’t help but hold my breath as he brings out an article of clothing from the deepest recesses of my collection and lays it out on my comforter.

“Oh not that.”

I bought it years ago, after my sister absolutely insisted upon it. I really had meant to get rid of it at some point, but somehow it’s always found its way back into my closet. As I eye the way-too-deep v-neck and horrifyingly sheer black fabric of the shirt I feel my mouth go dry, head shaking. Despite its long sleeves, it's so far from conservative that it should be regarded as unholy.

“Hyung, I might as well be if I wear that.”

“That’s exactly the point! You’re going to a club, Tyun, not to a gala. Besides, it’ll be so hot in there that you’ll wish you were , eventually. Trust me, this is the perfect choice. Plus you’ll look absolutely irresistible if you’re looking to...ya know.” Yeonjun grins slyly in my direction, and I can do nothing but stand there, mouth open in absolute horror at this insinuation.

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s my reputation, yes. Oh, these will go well with it!” He lays a pair of lightly distressed black jeans next to “the shirt” on my bed. I doubt they even fit me anymore, but even if they do, they’re going to be pretty tight. I open my mouth to voice this concern to Yeonjun, but he just shuts me up by continuing to speak.

“You will look absolutely fire in them, so don’t give me that look. And with these,” he gestures to the pair of black combat boots I didn’t even know I had, “you almost have a solid outfit.”

“Almost?”

“Accessories. Here, put all this on, and I’ll go see if I can scavenge anything worthwhile.” Yeonjun practically skips out of the room, leaving me alone with extreme apprehension and a messy pile of clothes on the floor. I’m starting to think that I really don’t have a choice in this matter. Not one bit.

I sigh in resignation and snatch the stupid clothes off of the bed, whimpering as my comfy homebody attire is replaced with the too-tight jeans and almost nonexistent top Yeonjun has paired it with. I’m just finishing lacing up the boots when the blue-haired boy returns, carrying an assortment of different jewelry, belts, hats and...makeup?

“Umm,” I mutter obtusely. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Yeonjun completely ignores my blank stare and sorts out all of the items onto my bed. There are so many options that I couldn’t even imagine where to begin, but Yeonjun’s seasoned eye seems to know just fine. His astute gaze flicks from me to the array on the bed for a moment before smirking evilly.

Before I can protest, the older boy is fastening a smooth black velvet choker around my neck, completing the look with a variety of silver rings on all but two fingers.

“It’s a shame you don’t have your ears pierced,” Yeonjun announces, eyes shining, “You would look absolutely sinful wearing these.” He holds up a pair of long silver earrings with upside down crosses dangling from the ends. Ungodly, indeed.

“I could do it for you, if you want,” he continues, giving me a smug look, “I did my seconds and thirds myself.”

They do look good, but I’m not that type of guy. “I’ll pass. Thanks, though.”

“I thought I’d try. Bathroom, now. I need to do your hair and your face.”

“Ah, hyung, I really do-”

“If you're gonna go all out you might as well go all out, yeah? Or are you scared of a little foundation?”

As much as I want to lay back in bed and binge watch Naruto all night, I feel myself giving in because, really, it is just one night, and it’s not going to kill me. I let Yeonjun lead me into the bathroom, beaming and saying just how much fun this is going to be, and I notice a bit of warmth blossoming in my chest. I’ve never really had many friends before university, so this is actually really nice. It’s still very foreign, but in a good way.

Yeonjun just babbles nonsensically as he works his “magic” on me. I can barely keep up with what he’s saying, but I don’t think he really minds. It’s a couple hours later before he claims that he’s finally finished and that “his makeover skills really snapped this time.”

I only have a second to register that statement when I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the mirror. This Taehyun almost looks like a stranger. My already large eyes look enormous and dark, rimmed in smoky gray liner that sparkles slightly when I turn my head. My skin looks nearly flawless for the first time since puberty hit, and Yeonjun’s contoured my face in all the right places to make everything pop in a subtle but appealing way. I look like a better, more attractive version of me. Yeonjun wasn’t kidding when he said his talents were unmatched.

“I...wow. Thanks, Jun.” And I mean it, too. I haven’t felt this good about myself in, well, ever.

The older boy smiles brightly at the nickname and pokes my forehead.“Don’t mention it, babe. Oh, would you look at the time! Where is that brat, Beomgyu? He’s gonna make us all late if he doesn’t get his home soon.”

I walk over to my desk and swipe open my phone. With great shock, I notice that it’s already half past nine. Did time really pass by that quickly? I would have never guessed. Still, Yeonjun is right. Beomgyu did say he was coming with us, after all, so it is kind of weird that he’s not back yet.

As if on cue, the door slams downstairs, causing both Yeonjun and I to jump. Yeonjun looks over at me, apologetically, and moves to gather up all of his supplies.

“I know an angry door slam when I hear one, and that one in particular sounded bad. If you want to come over to our room to escape Señor Hothead, then feel free. God knows I wouldn’t want to be here if he makes a scene.”

“Thanks.”

With that, Yeonjun makes a beeline for the door, but is still forced to dodge a very angry-looking Beomgyu. Whatever cosmic forces govern human interactions must really hate me, huh.

I don’t say anything as the blond throws his bag next to his desk and slams his phone on the wood, facedown. As if pretending I don’t exist--although, he actually might not have noticed me yet--he sheds his jean jacket and then his white button down underneath. Oddly and suddenly, I’m finding myself a bit too flustered to ask him just why he’s wearing so many clothes in this heat.

Beomgyu looks over just in time to see me staring like an idiot and smirks in response, “What? Enjoying the view?”

That definitely catches me off guard. “W-what? That’s ing weird, man.” I try to think of somewhere to put my eyes other than his and find them fixated on the shirt he’s holding but...what in the hell is that?

Beomgyu takes a hint from the bewildered look in my eyes and follows my gaze. With a sharp inhale, he turns to his dresser and begins rifling through the contents. There’s no mistaking what I saw, the discoloration of green and yellow circling his wrists almost like--

“Tinder hookup gone wrong last week. Don’t ask.”

I don’t miss the way his voice wavers slightly as he says this, like it’s a lie that can barely pass his lips. But I don’t press it. For all I know, he really did have a run in with one really . It’s not my place to ask him any personal questions like that. I barely even know the guy, after all.

“Right,” I draw out the word, making him aware of my skepticism. I notice he’s pulling a t-shirt and basketball shorts out of the drawer, and I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in confusion.

“Are you wearing that out?” I inquire. I sound like Yeonjun now, oh my god.

“Why does it matter? And what do you mean, ‘out’?” That tone is menacing and I really, really don’t want to keep talking, but for some reason I just do.

“With the hyungs? Tonight? Don’t tell me you forgot.” I can almost hear the gears working in his head as he turns around to glare at me eye to eye.

It’s like he really sees me then, all glitter and tight pants, and realizes what I mean. His eyes widen slightly and flit down to the floor. “I forgot,” he says slowly, a deep frown etching it’s way onto his features, “Tell them I’m not in the mood.”

Like I said, I don’t know this guy. I don’t know his background, his life struggles, hell, I don’t even know what major he is. But the way he just shrugs people off, especially people who are trying to be nice to him is really starting to tick me off.

“Well,” I say pushing myself off of my perch on the desk, “maybe you can tell them yourself.”

It’s magnificent, really, the pure anger that blazes across his face, something akin to a wildfire sweeping across a barren plain. But just as quickly as it came, the rage disappears into an expression of weary irritability. I blink in surprise. It’s almost like I imagined the whole thing.

“Listen. I’m not the best with people, and I know I haven’t been particularly pleasant around you or the others,” he explains waving a hand, absentmindedly, “But that’s just what I am. Unfortunately, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

This guy. He really knows how to be a . “Whatever, I don’t care. Just do right by Yeonjun hyung and go out with us tonight. It would crush him if you didn’t come. He did offer to pay for us, too, so the least you could do is honor that gesture.” It’s true. Even though Beomgyu’s been rude as hell, I know Yeonjun would be genuinely upset if the moody blond didn’t tag along.

“Fine.” He shoves past me and makes his way to his closest, “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Unfamiliar Terms:

doenjang jjigae*: soybean paste stew

Cruyff turn*: just know it’s a tough piece of footwork in soccer :)

Ooops how many weeks has it been???? I'm genuinely sorry I haven't updated guys! It's just been a difficult month for me, so I needed some space and time to think, ya know? But anyways, here is another chapter! BTW the angst is coming soon, don't worry~