gemini’s response comes hand-in-hand with this sense of satisfaction. in jungsu, not in haewon. jungsu is satisfied. it’s the tent; it makes perfect sense to him! always take shelter in confinement, never take shelter in others.
to be out on a bench, without a cover, is vulnerability; it’s taking shelter in others. along with your life being put in their hands, you’re putting all your possessions in their hands. the possessions, in that decaying black book-bag that grips to your back at all times (possessive). they could take that away from you!
in their hands is your dignity, it’s your face, your identity. being uncovered — humiliation, because when they look at you, putting yourself in their hands just like that, they suddenly have the audacity to think, “pity that son of a gun. what’d they do to get here on the streets? lazy. useless. unmotivated.” homeless? scum. jungsu is scum.
“yeah, ‘think you’re right.” dead boy wasn’t aware that he was holding his breath along the timeline of his question (being point a) and his acknowledgement of the answer (point c). but a languid release of breath comes out groggy, long, with a little stale mucus bubbling at the back of his throat. you can tell he’s exhausted. but he’s got a lot on his mind.
whoever said he felt safer at night anyway? in the day, attacked by strangers. at night, he attacks himself. which is more deteriorating?
a hand runs down the course of the back of haewon’s head. palm is flat, fingers stiff and straight. fingertips ghosting over his hair, never touching, because it’s too — delicate, he thinks. haewon’s hair is just soft and jungsu wants to pet it. but once his fingers dive beneath the strands, it’s meaning is warped completely. suddenly it’s “this means I’m comforting you” but haewon doesn’t need comforting. suddenly it constitutes as intimidate affection but that’s way off topic. for now it means “your hair is soft but not only that, I’m glad you’re my friend.”
the color of the tent that they’re in is this sort of green, the kind of “green” that follows the word “army.” jungsu says it’s more camouflage green. thus, the lights from the subway seep through the threads and filter to the color of armies-needing-to-camouflage green. the same color as his exhaustion, weighing his eyeballs down in his sockets. another sigh. there’s some rustling and jungsu is lifting his head to peer at the part in haewon’s black hair.
“I want to take a walk.” aka, get off of me. aka, you’re actually coming with me but do I need to say that?
”let’s go get into trouble or something.” he hasn’t slept yet that night.
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