He should probably be embarrassed, but mortification always disconnects with his mouth and he ends up spilling half his life story out in one sentence. Occupational hazard or just the disaster of being a kid with no verbal filter? “You’re welcome,” he graciously replies and why did he just do that—did he just say you’re welcome for telling her he has a birthmark on his ass. But he’s already bowing like he performed the act of his life, and he’s in way too deep so can’t stop this mess now. “Hello noona,” he keeps going, bowing again, and he tips a fake hat. “Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening. I’ll be here all week, and if you stay long enough I’ll serenade ya.” He really will. He performs on this street corner at least four days out of seven. “Have a weird birthmark and a name. Kupimook Bhuwakul. Call me bambam like most people. By most people I mean everyone.”
An automatic sigh left her lips. She aged faster because of these boys, and yet she continued to keep them in her life. Although they were ridiculous, they were still pretty amusing, and sometimes, sometimes, they could make her laugh, and she could use that once in a while. A slight smile made its way on her face at his little act, and she clapped for him slowly as if he had really performed. "Does anybody really call you that here? It's quite a mouthful. And plus, Bambam's a lot cuter." She would have reached out and played with his hair a little, but she wasn't sure if he was bothered by that or not, and he was too tall for her to reach anyway. Jihyun would have looked like a fool if she even tried.
