All Grown Up | Closed
hchwayoon:
. . . .
“Haejin! It’s Hwayoon! How’ve you been?” She smiled as she greeted the male over the phone.
his phone rings in the middle of cleaning -- passimian flits around the apartment with a duster in hand while pancham tries to man the vacuum. poliwrath, from the couch, supervises as primeape tries to pick up full garbage bags with clenched fists. in the corner, granbull naps, snoring from time to time, yelping when his dream goes awry until he wakes himself up for a second only to sleep again.
haejin, though, urged by the phone, finds an escape through the balcony, shuts the door and the scandal indoors becomes a muffled, dull sound, and he's able to answer the phone. the air does him good, he drinks it in, lets the sun bathe him enough that he wonders, for a moment, where his tan has gone.
"this is haejin, hello," he says before recognition strikes -- his lips pull into a smile, his eyes thin. memories of tyson flicker in his thoughts, wedge themselves into focus until he's daydreaming of him. his heart races at the thought of seeing him again. "hwayoon -- hwayoon, how is tyson? i'm good, but does he remember me -- does he ask about me?! how are you? "



















