He didn’t have patience. Not for this kid. Not for anyone. He’d slept a total of 6 hours in the past three days. His head was throbbing. It was no surprise he’d done such a sloppy job of arranging a sandwich. Whatever Jungsook was about to say about it, he was going to lose it.
“Just fuckin’ eat.” Stuffing his face with his own leftover’s sub (basically a messy mix of leftover meat, lettuce, and kimchi shoved between two toasted buns), he glared over at Jungsook. He didn’t want to hear some sort of psychoanalysis on the form of the sandwiches, the bags under his eyes or the depth of grip that was forcing some kimchi out the bottom of the sandwich.
Jungsook was already half way to taking a bite of the sandwhich, when the other spoke. He hadn’t really meant anything by it, it had just been a jokey comment. In fact, he didn’t even notice the sloppiness of the sandcwhich. Honestly, he had just jokingly said a weird sentence.
He frowned, and continued towards his mouth, deciding to just leave it as he ate. The other was being cranky, and he was not about to be an idiot and get into a huge argument over it.
