Jinhwan was never a fan of running, or walking for that matter - and so when he finds Jiwon rushing across the hotel room with his damp feet padding against the brown carpeted floor in search for his neon green Nikes, he isn’t sure whether he should dread the day ahead or laugh at the fact that his boyfriend’s worn his shirt inside out.

“We’re not going for a run are we?”

“Aren’t you just asking the obvious?” Jiwon chuckles and coughs while he’s at it, gaining a scoff from the male lying sprawled over the blankets.

“May I excuse myself from this, dear tour guide, I am aware that I entrusted you to plan our itenary painstakingly but I do remember my extra note to omit strenuous exercise.” Jinhwan frowns and speaks with his voice slightly muffled from having a pillow over his head and Jiwon can’t help but soften at this.

“I’m pretty sure flights are more strenuous than running,” his words earns a scowl, “Besides, you can just tag along and watch me run. I’m pretty sure I look hot when I run.”

“Just fix your shirt, you little poop.”

Jinhwan doesn’t buy it, he really doesn’t. But he heads out begrudgingly nonetheless, his feet barely getting used to the new trainers Jiwon had prepared the night before their departure. The hotel lobby’s a little too cold for his liking and he presses himself closer to the younger male, much to his satisfaction. People stream by speaking a foreign language but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would – falling into some sort of rhythmic motion, pieces falling into place while being entirely out of place, things like that. It’s only when they’re out of the hotel that Jinhwan relaxes and Jiwon’s never felt happier than this moment in which his lips curl gently at its ends. Jinhwan would hate to admit it but he loves the climate, he loves how warm Singapore is, how the trees just sway ever so slightly with every step that they take – and how it feels warm and cozy in the morning.

“Earth to Jinhwan, do you hear me, love.”

“No, I do not. There’s something wrong with our communication system, I think my head isn’t working all that well afterall. Permission to retreat to my crib, sir.” Jinhwan replies in the most deadpan voice he can produce at nine in the morning.

“I don’t give a ,” Jiwon chuckles before hugging the other boy from the back, “In any case, this is the part where I run and look all y and irresistible, just follow with your own pace alright, no stress. And don’t get jealous if all the ladies stare at me.”

Jinhwan’s this close to jabbing him in the rib but he scowls before wiggling out of his embrace, “Do as you please. I’ll be behind you.”

A soft peck is pressed to his cheek and he falls behind naturally, watching Jiwon’s steady steps in the bright morning. His neon green windbreaker flutters about in the wind and Jinhwan simply runs his fingers repeatedly over his tattoo over his forearm softly, his legs giving way to the compliance to move forward and keep up – to stay within a bijou radius around this boy. It’s been awhile since his relapse but he vaguely remembers the last time he had his equilibrium checked a few years back in a clearly intimidating and bright room with the doctor sitting a table away. He hadn’t lost his inclination for captivity, for predicting deaths and losses, for losing things when he least expected it – some symptoms were growing conspicuous, such as the fact that he would only grow to forget the names of people around him more frequently and how most importantly, he still lacked the ability to feel anger. Jiwon’s still the same, overly strong self-regulatory mechanism, inability to feel sadness and disappointment, natural inclination to doing things easily, like breathing, whenever he needs to – as long as his mechanism deems it as the default.

They’re both time bombs of their own kinds but in that morning, Jinhwan convinces himself to hurl these notions aside and keep up, just keep up for as long as he could bring himself to.

Jinhwan leans over the metal railing around the water fountain and huffs lightly when he finally sees Jiwon peel the earpieces out of his ears and hang them over his neck. It’s twelve and the first thing that the boy says when he turns around swiftly on his feet is the fact that he’s hungry. With a grin, he walks over to Jinhwan and quickly grabs his hand, pulling him in the direction of the eatery in the corner.

Halfway through their meal, Jinhwan nearly chokes on his salad when the boy with the unfazed grin announces with a little too much enthusiasm that their next stop’s the amusement park. 

AN: wow i took months, oops. in any case, yeah, school was tiring. I made a few changes in the overall direction of the story and i'm going to try to update from now on. yep. and it's set in singapore because guess who's from sg.