[he spits the words back pretty naturally, squinting his eyes a bit and pursing his lips incredulously before taking another spoonful of the soup. it sounds kind of ridiculous in that way, but where's the lie?
getting up early to cook had never been a thing for either of them. throwing the rice cooker on a timer for the morning was usually about as far as it stretched, and when it came to cooking—well, heung soo made ramen well, but that was usually about as far as it stretch up until recently. getting up so early, making seaweed soup—it's the sort of thing that goes above and beyond, even for them.
not that nam soon isn't going to do exactly the same come april 12th. maybe heung soo knows that despite the fact that he's not going to say a damn thing himself. but even if that's part of his own future plans, he still doesn't really have much of a good coping mechanism for what's happening right then, in the moment. and maybe that's why despite his words, he's still slowly eating his soup and leaning his shoulder against heung soo. it's a strange kind of support to rely on, probably, but nam soon doesn't seem to care. times like this, even with the embarrassment they both share, heung soo radiates a comforting sort of warmth that nam soon wants to bask himself in. nobody else in the world—in any world—is capable of providing that sort of feeling for him.
and despite reassurances, years of reassurances separated by his own insecurities, he always has a latent fear that one day, it's going to slip through his fingers and disappear. especially here; somehow, it's even scarier here, when people can disappear silently in the night without a trace.
if he's going to acknowledge his birthday and getting older, he wants it to be with a stream of silent assurance from heung soo, despite the fact that he never utters a single word to imply such a thing.]
no subject
[he spits the words back pretty naturally, squinting his eyes a bit and pursing his lips incredulously before taking another spoonful of the soup. it sounds kind of ridiculous in that way, but where's the lie?
getting up early to cook had never been a thing for either of them. throwing the rice cooker on a timer for the morning was usually about as far as it stretched, and when it came to cooking—well, heung soo made ramen well, but that was usually about as far as it stretch up until recently. getting up so early, making seaweed soup—it's the sort of thing that goes above and beyond, even for them.
not that nam soon isn't going to do exactly the same come april 12th. maybe heung soo knows that despite the fact that he's not going to say a damn thing himself. but even if that's part of his own future plans, he still doesn't really have much of a good coping mechanism for what's happening right then, in the moment. and maybe that's why despite his words, he's still slowly eating his soup and leaning his shoulder against heung soo. it's a strange kind of support to rely on, probably, but nam soon doesn't seem to care. times like this, even with the embarrassment they both share, heung soo radiates a comforting sort of warmth that nam soon wants to bask himself in. nobody else in the world—in any world—is capable of providing that sort of feeling for him.
and despite reassurances, years of reassurances separated by his own insecurities, he always has a latent fear that one day, it's going to slip through his fingers and disappear. especially here; somehow, it's even scarier here, when people can disappear silently in the night without a trace.
if he's going to acknowledge his birthday and getting older, he wants it to be with a stream of silent assurance from heung soo, despite the fact that he never utters a single word to imply such a thing.]