Don't Tell Me What To Do
Don't Tell Me What To Do
408w.
The hot coffee burned the whole way down his throat and left a bitter taste on his tongue. Black coffee was his usual, not because he liked it, but because he thought it made him look tough.
He acts mysterious to draw people in. Under those seemingly cold gazes lies someone who just wants to be liked, to be accepted.
A flash of color outside the window caught his attention. He slightly shifted his body and watched the people walk pass, the cars zoom by. His eyes started to glaze over and everything blurred.
Across the table, Yoochun stared at him. Jaejoong was wearing his usual dark colors; a black leather jacket with a low cut v-neck tee on the inside. The contrast between the black of the jacket and the white of his skin was fitting, he thought; hard, like black, but also soft, like white.
Yoochun shifted his eyes back to the composition book atop the table and started to hum something. Jaejoong turned his head towards Yoochun and smiled.
After listening carefully, he joined in, quietly harmonizing. The atmosphere between the two was comfortable, just like it had always been. Soulmates, unfazed by whatever happens, no matter how much time passes. A few moments later, the unnamed song began to dwindle down to the last note, hanging in the air.
Yoochun made a small note in the margins of the book, while his other hand fingered the air, as if a piano was in front of him. He set his pencil down and quietly sighed. “It’s still rough, but done.”
“What are you feeling?” Jaejoong gently prodded, noticing that something was off.
Yoochun’s finger started to trace the rim of his coffee mug, “Bored, I guess.” Jaejoong nodded.
“Downtime is a good thing, people take it for granted.” He said as his nose slightly wrinkled.
“The quiet can be peaceful but also unsettling.” Yoochun closed his eyes. He saw flashes of rolling waves, sunny days with clear skies, fields of green; all from his solo trip to Jeju Island two months ago just because he wanted to be alone.
Jaejoong pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up. He pulled in a long breath, holding it until the smoke saturated his lungs.
He tilted his head backwards and breezily said to the ceiling, “stop over thinking” as the smoke poured out of his mouth.
Yoochun grabbed the pack from the table and stole a cigarette.
"Shut up.”