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genre: romance | infinite member(s): ? | length: one shot, 1025 words

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description:

This is what I understand under ceremony.

You wear flannel on Fridays; I wear flannel on Fridays.

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One Friday evening my brother pointed out I was wearing that flannel again. We were sitting at the dining table, devouring the fantastic meal our dear mother had made, the smell of gravy filling the room, when my brother squinted his eyes at me, and said, “You’re wearing this shirt again.”

My mom stopped eating for a moment to look at me. My father glanced up from his plate before, realising he wasn’t interested in the conversation, he went back to scooping the mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“You haven’t worn this shirt since forever,” he said, now having the guts to actually point a fork at me. “And I thought I saw it in the bin the other day.”

“So what?” I asked.

He shrugged, lowering his hand. Then, mumbling to the point that I almost couldn’t catch on what he was saying, he added, “Come to think of it, when did you buy this shirt anyways?”

“Please, son. Stop speaking with your mouth full.”

My brother glanced at my mother with vehement scorn, and in that tiny moment I was reminded of you and your right dimple. In that tiny moment, as tiny as it was and as quickly as the sweet bitterness disappeared, I was taken back to Dongwoo’s birthday when the whole story about the flannels started.

Dongwoo was a mutual friend of ours. He just turned twenty-four that Friday, and you with some other people had planned a surprise birthday party for him, considering how you guys were best friends and all. I came with Jennie. You might remember her. She was the cute brunette with the red lipstick. Some other people were there too, but I didn’t know half of them. We were all high school friends, you told me later that night. But Dongwoo and I have known each other ever since we started walking. 

I was sitting on the kitchen counter the whole night, occasionally fixing the hem of my flannel shirt, and I had my second beer or so, and I tried to have fun by watching Jay dancing sloppily in the middle of the kitchen, but honestly speaking I was so damn bored. Jennie abandoned me for some hot guy, I didn't know most of the people, and they didn’t seem so approachable either. Considering all of this, it was no surprise that I regarded you as Superman In Flannel when you nudged my thighs and pointed with your cup at a guy who had his arm around a girl, his face buried in her neck.

You said, “He has a girlfriend.”

“Does he?” I found myself asking.

“Yeah, his girlfriend is pretty cool. And yet he thinks it’s okay to cheat on her.”

“He’s not cheating yet. He’s just flirting, I guess. And that’s sometimes fine, isn’t it?”

“I wonder.”

Our first conversation ended there. I carried on sipping my beer. You continued being your outgoing self, talking to everyone with utmost enthusiasm, as if no one ever bored you, as if you were always happy to be someone else’s reason to smile, and then you disappeared off to somewhere, and I was back to sitting on that countertop by myself, and I was ready to leave, ready to ditch Jennie because she ditched me first, ready to go home before even having congratulated Dongwoo, when you came back.

“Hey,” you said, “I think I need some fresh air. Wanna come with me?”

I nodded, and you took my hand and pulled me down from the kitchen counter, then led me through the crowd towards the doors, out of the apartment, away from everyone, away from Jennie who ditched me for some stranger, away from the Cheating Guy who, you later told me, was your brother, away from the party, away from the moment. You held my hand and ran down the street, and you still held my hand when you were almost out of breath because you were bad at running in the first place. Then we stopped and started laughing for no reason, and when we managed to calm down, you told me about Dongwoo and your life at high school, and how you were never the popular guy, but I didn’t believe you because you seemed pretty popular to me, like the centre of everyone’s attention, but you insisted that you were just a normal high school boy back then. We reached the park and we sat down on the swing, and you carried on telling me stories about your childhood, how your brother once broke your mom’s tea candle holder and blamed it on you, or how you kicked your brother in the groin because he said your first girlfriend was ugly. For some reason, when you told me that, I felt a certain kind of uneasiness settling down in my heart. And then we held hands some more, and we kissed, and at the end of the night, when you walked me home and I was wearing your flannel over mine because it was so cold, you pulled me closer, and smiled.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, the dimple denting into your right cheek. “I’ll see you around.”

And we parted ways just like that.

We never exchanged numbers, but we always knew when we would see each other again. Friday was our day. Friday was Flannel Day. We would show up at a party, both wearing a flannel shirt, and we would look at each other with a brow raised, and you would walk towards me or I would strut in your direction, and we would hang out for the rest of the night. Sometimes we would kiss. Other times we would just talk about everything. About your brother and your parents. About your future. About your friendship with Dongwoo.

We could have continued like that. We could have carried on standing neither on friendship territory nor on lovers’ ground, and we could always have been something in between, had I not found out you had Satin Saturday and Sweater Sunday, as well as Wristband Wednesday and Muffler Monday.

And Flannel Friday was just something in between.

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WHICH INFINITE MEMBER WERE YOU IMAGINING WHILE READING THIS ONE SHOT (EXCLUDING DONGWOO OF COURSE)?

Hey everyone,

I’m sorry. Some will probably be like, ‘If you’re gonna update, why not update the main stories?’

University is killing me, okay. And life has found its way to take up my time. Friends, life, hardships. I ain’t got time for Infinite either. And in a certain way I don’t listen to Kpop anymore. But I still want to write about Infinite because I still love them.

Anyways, this might be a bit lazy of me but this story is actually my creative writing homework. I ain’t gonna lie. I don’t have time to write my own stuff since I have to write 1000 words every week. Makes me feel less enthusiastic to update my main stories.

But I thought I should post something and show everyone I’m not dead. Because people are still reading my stories and they are still commenting and I’m so grateful.

And also (which is the more important fact) my babe’s turning 24 today. And this is my (somehow crappy) birthday present for her.

It’s short and somehow vague and there’s no happy ending, but it’s still for you. I was thinking about you (and some other things) while I was writing this, so please accept this as my present for you, and let’s celebrate your birthday together for the next ten years and more. Love you, poop 2.

Oh and here, this is also for you (part one):

(Unfortunately, I didn't really draw this. It is my work, but I didn't draw it freely... See, I've become a lazy bum.)

(Also, this is from a fantaken picture by colorful words.)