Midnight Urges
lmyangyang:
there’s a numbing quality to his body that his job gives; he feels tired, but it’s more than that, it’s a relaxed and almost euphoric feeling. tonight wasn’t so much of a performance as it was him dropping samples that he’s worked on for hours to be rapped over in competition– some of which is absolutely embarrassing. though he can’t really say much, he’s never had the courage to freestyle diss someone in a rap battle, and he’s not really sure he ever will. he’s sure that he’d knees weak, arms spaghetti all over the stage and forefit after the first round.
when he walks in he almost yelps, not expecting dejun to be standing in the kitchen examining his face like a nervous mother. “sort of,” yangyang says with a small laugh and a shrug. “a turntable would be cool though. required more… performance skill? not everyone could scratch a record, i guess– i’ve never tried it.” he sets his laptop on the counter and walks past dejun to sit on one of the bar stools before displaying a yawn.
“it’s not crazy,” yangyang explains with a smirk and a shrug. “they have twenty-four hour places for that very reason.” the smartass remark makes him chuckle, noting the time and hoping that they’re not being too loud that they’ll wake up hendery who must be sleeping. “let’s do it.”
Dejun laughs.
There’s something about Yangyang’s energy that’s...strange. Nervous, maybe. Whatever it is, Dejun thinks he should just relax a bit. Get into Buddhism, perhaps, find his centre.
“Alright. Let’s do it. Let’s get chicken. I like chicken.”
Dejun spins around a couple of times, trying to find his phone on one of the kitchen counters before he recalls that he’d left it on the couch, which is where it ends up waiting for him, having slid down into one of the crevices between the cushions.
He fishes it out, and turns to Yangyang as he calls his favourite chicken place, and orders, watching Yangyang’s eyes the entire time, pausing only to ask him if he wanted anything specific. Once the deed is done, he relaxes, putting his phone down to lean against one of the countertops.
“Alright...it’ll be like fifteen....” he says, choking down a yawn, “Tell me more about your...business.”












