Four Second Memoir [1/2]
Title: Four Second Memoir
Rating: PG
Focus/Pairing: Daehyun/Youngjae
Words: 10,000+
Summary: They're quintessentially a homoerotic romance.
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Four Second Memoir [1/2]
11.04.11 (fuck birds)
Daehyun rolls out of bed unceremoniously and onto his floor. There’s a crinkling sound of empty ramen packets and bags of junk food. He groans as the afternoon light breaks through his windows and onto his greasy body. His mouth tastes horrible, like expired beer and bar nuts. It makes him gag.
What a terrible day to be alive.
There are birds chirping outside his apartment complex, in some hidden melody he doesn’t understand.
He struggles with his window before wiggling it open.
“Shut the fuck up, you goddamn birds!” he screams, his voice sore and ragged. He sounds like he’s thirteen and going through puberty again rather than the twenty-three that he is.
The high pitched little car alarms come to a stop and is replaced with the sound of fluttering wings. Daehyun smiles triumphantly to himself as he proceeds to close the window again and heads back to his single bed.
Not one minute later does the army of horrid creatures return.
This time, Daehyun forces his window open with the strength of one seriously pissed off male. He grabs the closest thing to him (an expired package of cup of noodles) and chucks it at the source of the ruckus.
Birds don’t usually sound like a guy in pain--cute boy, though.
11.04.11 (a starving writer’s nourishment)
Same day. Seven pm.
Daehyun’s at one of his favorite bookstores. It’s a small space but what it lacks in size is made up by its overcrowded shelves bursting with books, novels, short fiction, everything.
He’s debating on whether or not he really needs to eat this week or own all three of the new special edition books of The Lord of the Rings series. He supposes he could buy one now and come back for the other two later; convenience store boxed lunches aren’t that bad once you get used to them, afterall. Sure, the rice is crunchy and the meat questionable, but food is food.
Daehyun is biting his lip and is about to hesitantly place the books back down when he hears a sweet voice say, “Are you a Tolkienist, too?”
He’s about to answer when the guy and him make eye contact. A spark of recognition rings in the other’s maple eyes, “You’re that dude that hit me with a cup of noodles.”
“You’re that cute boy.”
Smooth, Jung Daehyun. Smooth.
11.04.11 (crime and punishment)
Daehyun braces himself for a punch to his jaw, but instead finds a dented cup of noodles in his hands.
11.05.11 (monetary rise and falls)
Daehyun treats the cutie (youngjae) to a bowl of noodles at some hole in the wall restaurant. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. It’s so good that he gets carried away and forgets that, as a writer, he gets paid by the word.
He owes Youngjae five dollars.
11.27.11 (how to rob a bank)
Step one: don’t do it (so says one yoo youngjae, but what does he really know?)
He still owes Youngjae five dollars and now with an additional twenty-five cents (he really wanted that lollipop and all he had on him was a ten). Somehow, Youngjae is friends with him despite the fact.
He has this theory that maybe Youngjae only befriended him with the intent to trap him in debt and charge a three hundred percent interest fee on him.
If he pays Youngjae back by next week, he’ll have to give him a total of six dollars and fifty-one cents (daehyun can kind of do math).
That sneaky bastard. He’s trying to eat him out of house and home.
This could be a good book idea. He needs to discuss it with Youngjae asap.
12.07.11 (help. i’m in debt. still)
This chapter is blank.
12.08.11 (i’ve got 99 problems and money can solve about half of them)
This chapter is also blank.
12.09.11 (writing is...)
Writing is having to borrow a pen from your friend because yours are all out of ink.
I owe Youngjae six dollars and seventy-one cents now.
Fuck him.
12.11.11 (i’ll melt you down like ice cream)
Make that around ten dollars.
12.13.11 (brunch)
Brunch is two meals in one, but you only eat the one. This is a grave injustice and Jung Daehyun will not stand for it! That’s why he sits at a lovely table by the window--the one with the view of the city--like a gentleman. His mother raised him to be civilized (a few women might oppose to this notion however, maybe even his own mom).
He’s treating Youngjae to brunch to pay off the money he owes. He’s only paying for eleven dollars and twenty cents worth of Youngjae’s brunch, though. He’s not made of money, which is evident from his meager serving of toast. It doesn’t even have jam on it. Oh the humanity.
The starving writer leers at the stack of pancakes sitting opposite of him. Its fluffy golden brown glory teases him with the accompanying drizzled glaze of maple heaven and fruits so delectable they melt in your mouth.
He may or may not be drooling and it may or may not be obvious. May or may not.
Youngjae, as Daehyun has noticed, is pretty oblivious to things and eats with no qualms. He’s cutting into the beautiful stack (crafted from the hands of a cooking god, daehyun swears) and Daehyun’s watching his movements like the pigeons that crowd around the old ladies in parks. He stares enviously as Youngjae brings a perfect triangle of soft pancake goodness to his lips, but stops short. There’s a light touch of maple syrup shining on his lips.
Daehyun swallows.
Youngjae’s holding his fork teasingly in front of Daehyun. “You know, I’m really curious. I’ve never asked you what you do as a writer before.”
“I write.” Daehyun replies curtly, his eyes shifting back and forth as Youngjae mindlessly twirls his fork in his hand as if he were a girl playing with her hair.
“Daehyun.”
Said man sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Well, what do you wanna know?”
Youngjae purses his lips, “I don’t know. Like... are you one of those brooding writers who smoke all day and drink all night?” There’s a snarky tone in there somewhere, which Daehyun is more than willing to return.
“Nah, don’t smoke. That’s not healthy for you.” Daehyun nibbles on a pathetic piece of toast with a newfound sense of arrogance. He's trying to play off the cool air of the freelance writer. Perhaps the word ‘cool’ isn’t really an accurate description, though.
“What about drinking?”
“What about it?” Daehyun smiles, showing off his canines. There’s a piece of toast stuck between his teeth. Youngjae doesn’t tell him.
With a roll of his eyes, “Okay, yeah. Whatever, Mr. Hemingway. Aside from this nonexistent drinking problem you’re claiming--cause if you were, you’d still be in bed right now, most likely hungover--do you write other things aside from articles for the paper?”
“Yep, a lot.”
“Like stories?”
“Yea.”
Youngjae furrows his brows and grits his teeth, “Well, can I read any of them?”
That’s an unexpected response. Daehyun coughs on his measly breakfast/lunch item, its dry texture rubbing the wrong way against his vulnerable throat. His adam’s apple bobs visibly, “What? Uhhhhhh--no, cause of--ummmm--you see--I don’t actually,” he bites his fat lower lip, “have any finished.”
Youngjae doesn’t say a word and scoots his virtually untouched plate of pancakes towards Daehyun, fork and all.
Daehyun eats the comfort food in an aggressive fashion to hide his flushed cheeks.
12.14.11 (deal or no deal)
Daehyun, to finally be free of his monetary burdens, trades Youngjae his soul. And, surprisingly, he agrees.
Finally it comes of some use.
12.17.11 (this guy youngjae)
He’s the type of dude that works at a bookstore just for the ten percent discount (and offers it up to his favorite customers in secret). He’s one of those guys who would run away from a fight. He’s a mama’s boy and has been missing his mom since he moved away from home a month ago. He’s that guy that would find himself standing outside a door for five minutes, holding it open for a never ending stream of people.
He enjoys things like League of Legends and bragging about how good he is at it; also likes to over exaggerate (especially about league of legends).
(he’s still daehyun’s favorite to play with, though, cause youngjae’s a good support if he decides to play ad carry.)
He’s Youngjae, the guy that likes to feed the birds that conspire outside a struggling artist’s home.
God bless him.
Screw the birds, however.
12.20.11 (midnight coffee runs)
Daehyun’s an idiot. And he knows this because Youngjae keeps repeating it over and over again as he sits with him at two am, helping him complete the article he was supposed to have done two hours ago.
Youngjae showed up at his doorstep around midnight with some energy drinks and Starbucks ready to go (daehyun didn’t even know starbucks was open this late).
“You owe me one.”
All nighters are fucking horrible. Unless you have a friend with you, then they’re somewhat enjoyable. To an extent.
Daehyun doesn’t even remember what the article was about, but he does recall having a half full can of Red Bull flying towards his head.
12.22.11 (hyperspeed)
Daehyun’s mom used to describe friendship like a flower. If you water it and care for it, it’ll bloom. Daehyun’s never been much of a gardener, though. A lot of people come and go. Luckily for him, Youngjae’s a cactus (self-sufficient, albeit prickly).
12.25.11 (my first kiss went a little like this)
It’s Christmas. A family holiday. However, Youngjae’s parents live a plane ride away and Daehyun’s own family has never made a big deal over the occassion (that and they're in Busan); this is how the two find themselves in Daehyun’s tiny studio apartment, watching holiday specials (at ten pm). There’s a fatty bag of Mcdonalds sitting on the floor--the oils stain the hardwood and the smell coats the room in french fries.
The scene is a comforting one. The blankets curled up around them are from Daehyun’s own personal collection. They’re the ones without ketchup stains and sans scratchy cotton. It’s a special day: a time to break out the big guns.
And they’re a tangled mess of fabric and limbs.
Youngjae’s head is laying lazily on Daehyun’s chest and both are too drunk to care about how intimate a sight it is (their drunken laughter kind of cancels out the sweetness, too).
There’s no smell of gingerbread or candy canes, just alcohol and some McDonalds.
(they say that bread and water are good for preventing hangovers and somewhere along the lines of their drunk musings, potatoes came up. potatoes are like bread. right? starches and stuff. from the way they’re acting, though, clearly this was not a good idea. or the right train of thought. then again, walking into a mcdonalds drunk wasn’t so bright either. daehyun reaffirmed this when he puked on that one cashier who was giving him a dirty look.)
The two have barely moved from their position since they’ve returned to the living place, having attended the Christmas party at Daehyun’s office, earlier.
It was like they were trying to become one with the coach (or with the copious amounts of trash they’ve ingested).
Daehyun yawns and makes the top of Youngjae’s head his unwilling pillow. He snuggles his cheek against the brunette locks, inhaling the scent of vanilla and cream (and other fried foods). The hairs tickle his chin and Youngjae groans in displeasure at the sudden added-on weight but doesn’t put up much of a fight.
The Charlie Brown special currently playing is the background noise to their drunken conversations and dumb (keyword: dumb) bickering.
“My soul is totally worth more than thirty dollars!” Daehyun shouts with a drunken giggle, all while pinching the alcohol induced red of Youngjae’s cheeks.
“Please, Jung Daehyun.” Youngjae slurs as he pushes the older boy off to reach for a chicken nugget.
Daehyun pouts, feeling dejected, and snatches the greasy food item out of the other’s hands, “What would you sell your soul for then?”
“Two souls!”
“Two souls?” Daehyun repeats, successfully spraying chunks of chicken towards Youngjae’s direction in the process.
Youngjae jerks himself away from Daehyun, “Ew! Don’t spit on me!” He brings his hands up in mock defense against the germs spewing from the guy’s mouth.
Daehyun’s pout sinks even lower, his Busan accent begins to mix with his words, “Hey! You know, some girls actually value my spit. Ask any of my ex-girlfriends.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Shots fired.
“No. I’m a great kisser.” He crosses his arms and glares Youngjae down. The argument about exchanging souls and their price value is easily forgotten.
“And this whole time I thought you were an idiot that could barely even pee without missing.”
“So you’ve been watching me pee, huh?” Daehyun wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and proceeds to stuff a handful of french fries into his mouth. "Do wu rike wat wu whee?"
(do you like what you see?)
Youngjae sighs, “Oh no. You caught me. I find you insanely attractive, though you are a bit on the small side.” He sneers at the falling bits of food coming from Daehyun’s mouth as the other keeps eating. He may be drunk, but he’s still Youngjae--neat freak and snarky bastard extraordinaire.
And, unfortunately, Daehyun is still Daehyun (but fifty times worse).
“Gimme a kiss!” he laughs with a mouthful of food, his whiskery smile making an appearance.
Youngjae’s eye twitches and he gags when he has the taste of fried potatoes (mashed potatoes?) on his tongue, and the trans fat on Daehyun’s fingers roughly smearing against his cheek.
They argue themselves silly until the alcohol makes them pass out. There are a couple of punches thrown here and there, as well.
Everything after that is a blur and they don’t talk about the night again for a while.
(it is just between guys, anyway. no big deal, right? right.)
12.26.11 (soju? so yesterday.)
So they’re nursing a hangover, the next morning, over a warm steaming bowl of soup, guaranteed to heal them. The potato hangover prevention plan clearly did not work. Maybe they'll try instant noodles next time (assuming they can boil water without hurting themselves). Cause, ya know, maybe a different starch will work (seriously, bread has starch in it, right?)
But until then, Daehyun does just about everything but dunk his head into the soup to engulf it whole. Youngjae has a bit more etiquette and takes tentative sips, and tries to ignore how obnoxiously loud Daehyun’s slurping is.
“I fucking hate you.” or maybe not.
“That’s not what you were saying after your fourth glass, last night.”
“You’re a fucking douche bag. The scum on my shoes.”
“Now you just sound like your fifth glass. You’re a very mean drunk, Yoo Youngjae.”
1.1.12 (new years)
Daehyun kisses Youngjae at midnight because that’s what you do when the clock strikes twelve.
Okay. Maybe not so much as kissed, but smashed his face against Youngjae’s.
Nothing rings in the new year like bruised lips and drunken black outs.
1.1.12 (baby, you’re a firework)
The sky is alit with colors. They’re sparks of lights whose illuminance rivals that of the stars. Against the dull backdrop of black, they really come alive. Their sounds, though loud, fill the onlookers with the excitement that only comes around on certain holidays. The one that currently overtakes them actually travels from one year over to to the next.
The sparks bounce off and the light reflects onto their skin.
They’re green for a moment.
Then they’re blue.
But underneath it all they’re really just red in the face.
Not even the sound of fireworks and champagne corks popping can wake them up from their drunken stupor.
1.1.12 (clarity. be my remedy.)
Hangover soup for the soul.
1.7.12 (it’s just guys love, between two guys)
Friendship is being able to sit in a room together and do absolutely nothing productive or good for hours on end, for days on end (e.g playing league of legends).
And if friendship were to take shape, it would probably look like two guys making ramen in their boxers at four in the morning (the heater's malfunctioning and they're a bit tipsy).
(it’s also being able to have manly sleepovers and be so comfortable with your own sexuality that you guys occasionally kiss. it’s all cool.)
1.12.12 (unicorns.)
A new year means new ideas and more things to say no to. For Youngjae, it’s no to entering a pie eating contest with Daehyun (which was stellar because free pie), and for him it's a suggestion made during a random walk through the city with Youngjae:
“Why don’t you try writing a children’s book?” The wind is blowing harshly and that one strand of hair in front of Youngjae’s eyes is really bothering Daehyun.
“What?” he returns from his chapped lips.
Youngjae smiles and flicks his brown bangs away from his face. “You write for the newspaper occasionally and you said you have a degree in creative writing. Why not write something short for kids to enjoy?”
Daehyun laughs through his nose, “Children books are for--well, children! Those stories aren’t real art. I could write a piece about a goldfish going fishing and the kids would enjoy it and not understand the irony behind the piece or the absolute absurdity of a fi-”
“I like children stories. Want to get some ice cream?”
The conversation ends there.
1.12.12 (youngjae babo)
“I say choco, you say ice cream. Choco!”
“Shuddup.”
“Choco!”
“Shuddup.”
“I say vanilla, you say ice cream. Vanilla!”
“Shuddup.”
“Vanilla!”
“Youngjae babo.”
“Yeahhhhh.”
They’re getting weird stares in the store, but the two can’t contain their laughter.
1.17.12 (playpen)
They’re both freaking kids. Except they're adults (or what appear to be ones). Combine both attributes together and you get horrible horrible decision-making. And they’re okay with that.
1.24.12 (daehyun o’ clock)
“Happy birthday!” Daehyun screeches at the top of his lungs as he chugs another bottle of soju in Youngjae’s honor, “Shall I serenade you with my voice?”
“I didn’t realize our friendship had turned into a homoerotic one.” Youngjae remarks as he flips over another strip of juicy meat with a pair of tongs. His sleeves are rolled up and his brows furrowed in deep concentration as he grills. Daehyun’s not allowed to touch it because a) drunk and b) too impatient. Youngjae isn’t too keen on dying thanks to raw meat.
Soju is streaming alongside Daehyun’s blood and he feels tingly all over. He ignores the prying eyes of the other patrons in the restaurant and continues on in his solo merriment.
Youngjae pokes the meat, “Geez. I also didn’t know this was your birthday we were celebrating, either.”
He grins at Youngjae’s irked expression while savoring the scent of the meat’s sweet marinade and the burn of the liquor. Daehyun raises his glass, “What’s yours is mine.”
“...and what’s yours is mine, too?” Youngjae asks, bringing the grilled meat to his lips, giving it a cautious blow.
“Nope. What’s mine is mine!” Daehyun chortles as he takes the tongs and takes an enormous bite.
He burns his tongue.
“And you say I’m a bad drinker.” Youngjae rolls his eyes and holds a napkin up to Daehyun’s mouth so he can spit out the burning hunk.
Daehyun pushes his hand away and instead just sloshes down the rest of the soju bottle. Can’t be going around wasting meat. It is a precious life source.
“Did your sober-self at least have the decency to buy me a cake?” Youngjae asks, slumping in his seat slightly.
“Cheesecake!”
Youngjae smiles as he places some vegetables onto the grill (something daehyun won’t eat).
“Your favorite cake?”
“Because it’s my birthday!” Daehyun blurts after another large gulp of soju.
Youngjae sighs (he does that a lot around daehyun), “Must all our celebrations involve one or both of us drunk?”
“ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR NONE!”
1.25.12 (beer goggles)
Daehyun comes to realize that Youngjae nags way too much at a much too high volume. Especially when his anger gets the best of him. He can go on and on about the most simplest of things (which compile a list of his pet peeves). And being the good friend he is: he’s forced to listen. Despite being extremely hungover.
Youngjae’s lecturing him on work ethic and being a responsible adult and several other things after learning about Daehyun missing the deadline for his last editorial by an hour. His alarm was broken, scout’s honor. Too bad the two have never been in the boy scouts, so there’s that discrepancy. Whatever.
Youngjae keeps talking and talking.
Daehyun’s trying his best to listen, but it’s so much easier to just tune Youngjae out and save his alcohol filled brain from suffering any longer.
Daehyun can’t look away, however, cause then Youngjae will snap his fingers in front of his face or move onto the topic of good social etiquette.
“Listen to me, Daehyun! Read my lips when I say that--”
Daehyun sighs and does as he’s instructed, watching the stream of words leaving the boy’s mouth. His mind wanders but his eyes stay focused and trace the curvature of Youngjae’s lips. He wonders what exact shade of pink they are. Huh. His eyes eventually trail up to meet Youngjae’s. Have they always been that shade of chocolate?
Wow. It’s been so long since Daehyun’s just stared at his friend. Like really bothered to take in any actual details--too used to being with the guy he sits around doing nothing with. It’s like the first time he’s seeing Youngjae again.
“Do you understand me now?” Youngjae asks as he places a hand on his hip.
Daehyun must still be slightly drunk from the drinks he had last night.
Maybe another drink will cancel it out.
1.29.12 (genius in a bottle)
Spoiler alert: it does.
2.14.12 (free lance writing sucks)
Daehyun never says no to free food, even if he has a review to write for the paper soon. He supposes he could write about Youngjae’s food and the head editor Yongguk might not completely skin him alive. Maybe lecture him to death. Either way, Daehyun still finds himself in Youngjae’s apartment, waiting for the boy to finish preparing their meal.
“Whose idea was it again to make a Singles’ Day dinner?” Youngjae asks as he pulls out a medium sized turkey from his crappy little oven. Well, the kitchen in its entirety is pretty tiny already. There are pots and pans threatening to fall from their towering stacks from over the sink and a clutter of ingredients taking up every available space on the counter. The only safe zone is the small oak dining table, made for two, in the center of the disaster zone.
“I think it was yours, cause, I mean--would I ever volunteer to cook?” Daehyun scoffs as he sits eagerly at the table, fork and spoon in hand. “Now give me the food. Food. Food. Food. Food.” He chants like a child, punctuating each word with a banging of his utensils against the wood.
Youngjae unties the apron around his waist and goes to the sink to wash his hands, “Remind me why we’re friends again?”
“Because I’m delightful to be around and you have horrible social skills?”
“You sure know how to sweet talk yourself into a free meal.”
“I love you.”
“That’s better.”
“I even love your mood swings.”
“Get out of my apartment. Now.”
“Because there’s just so much of it to love.”
(from march to april, there’s nothing important written in the journal. youngjae’s visiting family back home. daehyun spends his time writing and trying to complete some stories, waiting for his friend to return home. okay, well there is one entry made during that time:
“It was raining
I was sitting in the bus
I fell asleep
I woke up to “it’s raining men”)
5.04.12 (late night fevers)
Cue four am and Daehyun is calling up Youngjae’s cellphone. His pencil taps against the neon of his yellow legal pad, and with each coming ring it quickly picks up momentum. His leg’s propped up and his back is to the headboard of his bed. It’s the best position to write.
On the sixth ring, Youngjae picks up. His voice is raspy and cute, and the tinge of anger is easily ignored. “What do you want, you bastard?”
“Just wanted to call in and say hello.”
“You drove me home from the airport an hour ago.” Youngjae yawns, “Does the word ‘jet lag’ and ‘crying babies’ not exist in your pretty lil’ dumb world?”
Daehyun holds back a smile, “You were only on that plane for like an hour. And what can I say? I missed you. But that aside, do you really think I’m pretty?”
He hears a tsk from over the phone, it’s a little bit staticy, “You texted me every day when I was back home. So, please, Jung Daehyun, stop playing the role of the clingy boyfriend.” He chooses to pass on answering the last half of Daehyun’s sentence.
“But it’s the most fun thing to be.” he teases, a bit of his accent slipping out.
“Daehyuuuun.” The other line cries groggily.
“Want me to read you a bedtime story?”
“Fine. But if you hear snoring half way through, don’t get all dramatic and cry.”
Daehyun brings a hand to his chest and furrows his brows, “Me? Dramatic? Why I’d never.”
“Shut up and read.”
He flips a few pages back in his notebook, after quickly jotting down a couple of quick notes for later, “You, my friend, are about to be the first person to ever hear this Jung Daehyun original story.”
“I can’t wait for the day I can tell my grandchildren this.” Is the expected asshole reply.
“Shush. You love me.” Daehyun gloats, his stupid feet stomping on the bed repeatedly like an insufferable child.
“Get reading.”
“Yes, sire, for I am but a mere humble poet to tell you the wonderful creations of the universe with just a few beautiful words.”
“Humble...?”
“I never said I was sincere.” Daehyun snorts.
“Get reading!”
“Hey! I don’t think I like the tone of your voice!”
Youngjae hangs up and a dial tone fills Daehyun’s room.
“Hello? Hello? Hello!”
There’s no story read that night.
5.05.12 (prince youngjae)
Daehyun calls Youngjae once again, a day and an hour later, at five am. He doesn’t know why Youngjae would ever amuse him by answering what would be another dumb conversation, yet he does. He sounds as tired as before, but less peeved. He is used to Daehyun’s wacky antics. Especially the ones from Daehyun’s After Dark Persona (it pops up sometime around 1 am and lasts until the afternoon).
This time Daehyun doesn’t waste any time and dives straight into the story of how one little goldfish spent its day fishing.
“I love it.” Youngjae speaks through the line, enthusiasm filling his voice after Daehyun reads the ‘the end.’
The words pierce Daehyun’s heart and his stomach bubbles with excitement, “Really? You think it’s that good?”
Youngjae laughs, “Would I still be on the line if I didn’t like it so much?
“Well, I do have a velvety smooth voice. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re staying up to listen to me.”
The line goes dead.
5.10.12 (speechless)
They’re having dinner together. Well, brinner (breakfast+dinner).
Daehyun’s telling another dumb story and Youngjae’s trying to keep his food within his mouth as he laughs.
Daehyun tells great stories. Youngjae loves them. And Daehyun loves Youngjae’s laughter. It all comes full circle.
“Hey, remember that one story you told me over the phone?” Youngjae asks as he nibbles on a crispy piece of bacon.
Daehyun hums as he piles on more scrambled eggs onto his plate. He’s making a mountain. It’s the year 1949 and the gold rush is happening. Daehyun’s gonna strike it rich as he stuffs the delicious ‘gold’ into his mouth.
“My boss at the bookstore knows a guy at this publishing company and I was thinking that--”
“No. Absolutely not.” Daehyun doesn’t elaborate. The air is awkward. Youngjae’s upset. Daehyun doesn’t like that.
Brinner is over.
5.11.12 (damn)
This chapter is blank, for the most part. Daehyun doesn’t really have anything to write about because he’s never fought with Youngjae before, at least not on such a serious scale. He just kind of sits at home. He scribbles in his notebook, playing with different penmanship. Some are elegant and classy while others are loopy with heart like punctuation. He writes Youngjae’s name over and over again.
Youngjae
Youngjae
Youngjae
Youngjae
Youngjae
Youngjae
This is worse than when Youngjae was gone for two months.
Youngjae
Youngjae
Youngjae
ii