( @gemsini
there’s this proverb about lemonade. jungsu can’t quite recollect it. try as he might, try as he uses those filthy stubs called fingernails to plow and root up parts of his memory, he can’t figure it out. he knows it’s supposed to be inspiring. is it ‘when things get sour, make lemonade?’ or is it, 'when life gives you lemons then make lemonade?’ he's not sure. the latter doesn’t make any sense to him. you guys should be going out and growing your own damn lemons! not everything is handed to you on a silver plate. regardless, jungsu decides that you should make lemonade if life gets sour. make the most of what you got. see? it makes so much more sense that way.
so he’s making lemonade from limes. because he’s making the most of what he doesn’t have. doesn’t have any money, doesn’t have direction, no security, no safety. no roof over his head.
that is, unless you consider the roof of his tent as being such. or maybe, the ceiling of the subway beyond that. maybe that constitutes as his “roof.”
and that’s exactly where he is. in a tent, in the subway. with a 100-something-pound pile of flesh and bones and warmth and reassurance and something he can maybe consider his lemon. his best friend. cheesy, right? wrong! it’s sour! you know, like a lemon. sour, in the way if he said all that out loud, he think gemini’s face would pucker up.
back to that sour flesh draped across him. this is how they sleep. with a thin film of tent plastic separating their body from hard concrete. given jungsu can’t feel pain, he doesn’t mind. not fun, but not agonizing. for haewon, it’s different. the lemon can feel pain. so the lemon uses the corpse as a cushion. and the corpse morosely gives the lemon a few pats to the head to gain attention.
“why do you think the subway gives a sense of security?” is that deep, or just stupid? who knows, it’s probably like 3 am. he just wants to know why so many vagabonds find refuge in these tunnels. themselves, included.
