#{` start.

[mincyu]

@joovcho liked for a starter!

Two clash before body rebounds against body, his own coming into contact heavily against the solid concrete below him. His expression is peculiarly dull as he dusts off the arms of his black longsleeve. There's no doubt he's gotten a scratch despite his coverage. The vexatious sting which remained longer than it should have was a dead giveaway; he dared not to check. He couldn't bother to wince or to grimace. He was already accustomed to pain—both physical and emotional.

Lifting his head briefly to receive a quick glimpse of the other, his eyes hastily scan the individual only to find (to his brutally unanticipated surprise) that the male's pale skin bore a few scrapes as well, crimson fluid smudged against the man's shirt and lower forearm. He clicks his tongue. What a shame it was to have seen clothing so lovely become blotched and marred by that same repulsive liquid that just so happens to bring all life, yet can instantaneously signal the end of another.

Getting himself up and off of the ground while eyeing the collection of books which had scattered upon the sidewalk, he reaches downwards to gather the items into one pile before handing them over to the other.

"Watch where you're going next time."

[mincyu]

@daphnyx liked for a starter!

Home at last. The teen couldn't care enough to deliver his belongings in their proper place within his room, simply allowing his worn, tattered up bookbag to drop onto carpet below him before collapsing into the cushions of the umber leather couch positioned in the center of the living room. He took the slim remote into his hand before setting up Netflix, cheek pressed up against a nearby pillow. He gazed lazily at the moving picture on the screen, eyes threatening to shut until he is oh so conveniently rescued from the grasp of a good three hour nap when his phone emits an appalling ding and buzzes against the leather below him. He blankly eyeballs the ceiling, almost as if his next door neighbor could hear his internal screaming. Dreadfully reaching for his phone, he peers at the screen, eyebrows knitted towards their center.

〈 incoming message ! 〉where is my pizza

"The fuck...?" He swiftly typed in a reply, curious as to who this person even is and how he or she had gotten his number.

〈 outgoing message ! 〉?? who the hell are you

[mincyu]

@sehvn94 liked for a starter!

6 AM. Typically Mingyu was already up by then every morning, and this one was no different. He stretched his body across the length of the sofa, kicking his legs up upon the top of the armrest. It was silent—just a brief period between him and his thoughts. That is, until he was interrupted by a boisterous banging against the surface of the door to his apartment. Couldn't care to use the fucking doorbell? He forced himself up and carded his slender fingers through his tangled, messy locks, doing the least to throw on a shirt as he drags his feet towards the mini hallway of his home. He twists the door knob as he presses his lips together before tugging the door open, discontent etched and evident upon his features.

"There's a damn doorbell for a reason you— What the fuck?"

[mincyu]

@sinfulsuga liked for a starter!

For the span of more than half an hour, he had been desperately attempting to omit that abhorrent clicking noise from his train of thought. Perhaps it would have been more beneficial to his sanity if he had just decided to study at home. He picked up his mug and took a short sip of what was left of his coffee. He could almost feel his own eye twitch as he brings himself to avert his attention from the assignment before him to take a glimpse of this certain clicker.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear your constant clicking of that pen of yours for the past THIRTY minutes. Choose to write or set the damn thing down. Please."