❝ MAKE OUT KIDS ❞ sᴀ ☓ ᴄʏ
Chanyeol was spread out across his mattress, the sheets crumpled up underneath the small of his back uncomfortable, but he decided his best solution for the moment was to ignore it. The light was dimming, shuttered through buckled blinds and scattered in stripes across his bed, warmed his ankles. His pants were slung low on his hips, shirt tossed halfway across the room and his guitar on his lap, half propped up by his chest as he fingered the fret board, plucked a few of the strings with his fingers in a lazy collection of notes that went nowhere, just filtered through the small space of his apartment--faded out just as fast. He repeated the motion, like he might have been throwing together the music for a new song, sloppy though, and halfhearted. When he realized he was getting nowhere fast he leaned over to prop his guitar against the wall, stretched further to grab a small tin on his side table, dropped it next to his thigh to pull out rolling papers, some tobacco. The cigarette he rolled was messy, but it was functional and that was all that mattered. He propped it up between chapped lips and sparked a quick flame to light it, inhaled long and let his head drop back to exhale a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.
Chanyeol was debating on whether or not he should actually find food when there was a heavy knock on his door. His brows furrowed, didn't think he'd invited anyone over, but he rolled out of bed with a grunt anyway--thought about grabbing a shirt for maybe five seconds, decided against it when a knock sounded again. He let out a gruff "fucking coming," fumbled for the handle and flipped the lock before he yanked it open. He was met with a familiar face, long dark hair, her lips pulled in a mischievous expression. "Didn't know you were back in town, Aisha." Chanyeol mumbled out, pressed his forearm to the top of his door frame and leaned his weight against it, took another drag as he gave her a once over. They had history. Nothing spectacular, but Chanyeol would consider them to be friends, close enough that he trusted her. Gaps of time before she was back on the island for vacation and they met up to hang out, drink, maybe fuck. It depended on the day, on the year. "Come on in, then." he decided with a husky laugh, pulled himself away from the doorframe to give her enough room to walk through, waited until she had crossed the threshold before he knocked the door closed with his heel behind her.
"How're. I dunno, things?" he settled on lamely, chuckled to himself and ruffled a hand through her hair, subsequently messed it up as he crossed the room to find his ash tray, flicked embers in against the murky colored glass. He yanked a chair closer - propped it up near the end of his bed for her to sit in, dropped down on the mattress and ran a hand through his hair. "Have you ever heard of this thing called being invited, by the way? I hear it's all the rage." Chanyeol snorted out, equal parts amused and sarcastic as he continued to smoke his way down the cigarette, eyes fixed to her in something curious, a fond sort of nostalgic.
