Wooyoung strolled through the apartment like it was his own, eyes wide and scanning for one person.
Seonghwa
“EOMMA,” he bellowed down the hallway, searching for the older man with the seriousness of someone who needed more than someone to play video games with.
@star-hwaa
Seonghwa looked up from where he'd been folding laundry at the kitchen island, the familiar shout pulling a long-suffering smile onto his face before he even saw the culprit. "I'm in here," he called back, not bothering to raise his voice much. Wooyoung found him anyway, surely skidding around the corner with enough momentum to nearly collide with the counter.
He set the shirt in his hands aside and crossed his arms, waiting. Experience had taught him that interrupting Wooyoung's dramatic entrance only prolonged it. "Well?" Seonghwa prompted, one brow arching. "You yelled for me like the building was on fire. Should I be worried, or are you about to ask me something that could've been a text?"
There was no bite behind the question, only the quiet affection of someone who'd long accepted that peace and quiet simply weren't part of loving Jung Wooyoung.




















