#rksubin

[rksejun]

@rksubin

( SMS ➝ baby marshal )

( ✉ ) hey ( ✉ ) heyyyyyy ( ✉ ) hey subin ( ✉ ) subinnie ~~~~~ ( ✉ ) are you free on may 31? ( ✉ ) wanna do something fun with hyung? ( ✉ ) 'fun’ ㅋㅋㅋ ( ✉ ) no jk it’ll actually be fun ( ✉ ) what do you say??

[lixrk]

late night delivery

working night shifts usually means coming home very late, sometimes just before the sun would rise. yeosang found his job rewarding, especially with the pay he was getting. despite being a part-timer, it was enough for him to pay for his apartment, so really he couldn’t ask for anything better. luckily, tonight wasn’t one of those nights when he needed to stay until he could hear roosters from the other side of the world rising.

quietly checking his fridge so as to not wake up his roommate, he grumbled when he noticed that it was empty. one good thing doesn’t always mean everything would go well for the rest of the night, it seemed. taking a peek at the clock, yeosang was relieved to see that it wasn’t too late that most restaurants had closed, but they might be closing, so he had to be quick.

dialling the number to the restaurant he frequently ordered from, he was glad to hear that his call was picked up. it hadn’t closed yet, just in the nick of time. he opted for dumplings and noodles this time, which was what he often ordered. in classic yeosang fashion, he added a little, “sorry for calling in so late... again.”

but hey, at least he was a paying customer, right?

— @rksubin !

[rksejun]

things you go to

the laundry is quiet and empty—just another family-owned business on the brink of bankruptcy. the floor tiles are cracked and worn yellow with age, the paint is peeling, and the door sticks when it rains. when sejun was younger, he’d thought of the laundry as bright, cheerful, ebullient—sunshine felt like a suitable name. these days, being in here sucks the energy out of him. the photo prints of sunflowers and summer fields his grandparents hung around the place all those years ago to spruce up the place just come across as subtly mocking.

slumped behind the counter, sejun fidgets with his phone. he’d give anything to pop outside for a smoke, but his grandparents are extremely insistent about never smoking anywhere near the laundry, and especially when he’s supposed to be working. not that anyone would notice if he was back in fifteen minutes, or twenty, or even thirty, but he doesn’t have it in him to disobey the few commands his grandparents have given him.

in an ideal world, he would’ve become an idol, hit it big, bought a comfortable house for his grandparents, and sold this place by now. in an ideal world, he wouldn’t be stuck here for four more hours, waiting on customers who won’t come. in an ideal world, he’d—

well. no use dwelling on it. lacing his fingers behind his head, he sighs. the world isn’t ideal. it’s not even fair most of the time. thinking about it too much or expecting things to go the way you want them to will just piss you off. sejun’s had enough experience with the feeling to not recommend it to anyone. it’s not worth it to become bitter so young.

(ha, he wants to say. ha-fucking-ha. too young, and yet here he is.)

straightening up, his eyes fall on the loose stack of pamphlets and menus strewn over the counter. gathering them into neat piles separated by subject matter, sejun’s eyes fall on on a familiar name. jung jjajang. he fills in the rest of it automatically. the jjajangmyeon you’ll want to befriend! abandoning the other menus in the recycling bin, he makes sure jung jjajang’s menus are the only ones visible.

another one of those instances where the world isn’t fair, he thinks idly. the restaurant’s phone number glares up at him, chanting call me! call me! call me! honestly, he could go for a bowl of jjajangmyeon right about now—jung jjajang’s food never fails to lift his mood, and the number is already in his phone, but he hesitates before hitting dial. suha’s ghost hovers over his shoulder, saying, didn’t you say you weren’t going to make the same mistakes again?

same, selfish mistakes.

(he remembers dialing jung jjajang’s number and saying, send me your cutest delivery boy, with a cheeky grin, brimming with excitement at the thought of luring his best friend over to the company.

i’m the only delivery boy, suha’d replied, laughing. but sure—i’ll squeeze you in as my last delivery.)

subin isn’t suha, and it’s nowhere near the end of the day, and it’s just one fucking bowl of jjajangmyeon—nowhere near the end of the world. but his finger is still frozen over the dial button, and one bowl of jjajangmyeon isn’t worth a life at the end of the day.

god, but the taste of it reminds him so much of suha.

sejun hits dial without processing and places his order. his usual request rests at the tip of his tongue, but without suha to answer back on the other end, it dies in his mouth. instead, he asks, “this isn’t the last delivery or anything, is it?” nope! comes the reply. it doesn’t help unravel the knot in his chest much, but he feels a little less anxious as he hangs up and waits for subin to arrive.

maybe she should’ve just gone to pick up the food himself. no one’s going to come to the laundry, and sejun will be counting the seconds till subin arrives anyway, but going to jung jjajang is one terrifying situation he doesn’t want to dive right into. subin is different, subin is comfortable and kind, subin makes him feel—less guilty or responsible. but subin’s parents… sejun’s not sure he can face them even now. doesn’t know how. his shamelessness doesn’t extend that far, and he doesn’t have enough apologies.

so he waits, nails picking at the splinters in the counter, for the familiar silhouette to come to a stop in front of the doors—and when it does, for a moment he thinks, oh, oh, you’re here, you’re back—

but reality hits a moment later as the door opens. the deliveryperson who pops inside is not suha, will never be suha again. sejun arranges his features into a pleased smile nonetheless, because even though he’s not suha, he’s glad to see subin whole and unharmed. he’s always just glad to see subin. 

“you’re late!” he says cheerfully. “i almost fell asleep waiting for you, subinnie.” a beat, and then adds nonchalantly, “everything okay on your way over here?” 

for @rksubin ✨

[rkseungmi]

coupon fiesta .seungmi+subin

another week at hongdaefest, another cash spending session. her wallet has been rapidly thinning, bills come and go –but mostly go, from her wallet to other people’s hands and pockets, cashier registers and makeshift piggy banks for coin drops. if the festival was a year long thing she wouldn’t have been able to survive. no one would unless they’re rich and influential.

coupons slipped neatly into one if her wallet pockets, she took it out to see which cafés were the coupons eligible at. at that point it didn’t really matter because any kind of discount would be good discount, prices off and free items for takes. wonderful world of discounts. that said, she has to thank royal pirates for making the coupon book possible for her. without them she’d be a lost lamb, not knowing where to go and what to eat with such little money.

waiting for her friend to arrive, she leaned against one of the poles and unlocked her phone.

[ text → soupbin ] where are you~~~??? [ text → soupbin ] i’m already here so hurry uppp!!