❝ I can’t believe we’re talking about this right now. ❞
a hundred random starters ⤷ status : not accepting !
Nimble fingers busy themselves by playing with the hem of her shirt; exhaling all irritation which had been built up from his rash exclamation. Somin, habitually calm but easy to agitate (it only took a couple of words to get a reaction from her — often masked as a burst of laughter where she ‘uncontrollably’ ends up hitting said wind-up merchant), had found his little outburst a sure enough annoyance.
Bottom lip (brightened not by the usual dab of lipstick, but rather the constant chewing of it) protruding, a low pitched noise of dissatisfaction fills the absence of her reply. This was not an ideal conversation, admittedly, but why did she feel as though he was shifting the blame onto her? Perhaps it was merely paranoia playing up, yet she was unable to shake the feeling that he really felt as though it was her fault. Especially when he was the one who started this all up.
“You do realise you’re the one who brought up this conversation! I thought you said: ’We’re never going to talk about this ever, okay?’” Mimicking his voice with a deepness ( any lower and she’d practically be growling ), her soft features set into something more stoic. The story of their first meeting is, to put it kindly, an awkward one — one that was not supposed to ever be discussed. Yet, here they are, two stubborn souls refusing to take responsibility of the terrible tale.
Baring her teeth, fist raised in a mock threat, a sudden playfulness overcomes her. It’s best not to make this little scene any worse. Usually she reserves this little act for her youngers, but he’s an exception. “Gosh, you’re so infuriating. You never change!” As much as she tries to remain serious, humour had already crept in and her cover began to crack; Somin was laughing.
Even after that unnecessary visit down memory lane, she cannot stop snickering.
