#seriphic

[ofmays]

❍﹒𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁: for @seriphic / yuhui !! ⠀⠀ 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂: none as of now !! ⠀⠀ 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: somewhere on campus ?? for now ??

grabbing coffee with yuhui had become a habit by now— a very strange and out of left field habit for may lee of all people. he was used to grabbing an iced americano and running to his dorm, but now he’s holding a caramel macchiato and walking beside his new…friend, taking his sweet time as he glances down to him, noticing the curl of his lashes and the rounds of his cheeks.

it was november, it was getting colder, but may feels a lot warmer with yuhui by his side, shy words and glances adding to the growing list of things may finds oh so endearing about the drama student.

“your drink is spilling.” he comments, pointing to the cup of matcha latte yuhui was holding onto for dear life, but instead of waiting for him to snap the lid shut on his to-go-cup, may does it for him, reaching with his free hand, attempting to ignore the way he presses his lips together in nerves as their cold fingertips brush against one another.

he clears his throat and glances to yuhui with a sweet, shy smile. “there, fixed it.” and within growing november heat, may wonders to himself why sun yuhui of all people wanted his flat company so much.

[13elmst]

most nights, he faces a persistent throb in the joint of his knee. it is akin to a limb suffering atrophy from lack of use, screaming to be tended to. and it is in this way in which he endures the phantom pains of decades past, when he was once just a boy on a field, kicking a ball around like it was going to mean something.

how fucking naïve. because it wasn’t the way he shoved the mouth-breathing shit talker in his high school locker room that ended any illusion of a soccer career. it was the way in which he was his mother’s son, her blood in his veins and her strength in his arms. how they benched him because of it. he kicks the best long ball they’ve seen in national soccer in decades, and they disqualify him on the basis of being a freak.

and what this means is that he hates those human bastards, and all the self-loathing anomaly motherfuckers that pander to them. like that joke of a political party in a university for anomalies. like sun yuhui.

for all he knows, the man probably isn’t bad company to keep. but there’s a sort of desperation in him, a pathetic neediness to be held in things that are so quick to spit him out. like how he’s here now, in line for a blue hall party thrown by the opposing team, begging to be let in. jaehyun scoffs the second yuhui comes into view.

“you a student here?” so he decides to make this difficult, like molars grating sand, not because he’s told to, but because he can. because there’s something so strangely compelling about watching the fucker squirm, like the static remains of a catastrophic car crash. and ah, there it is now, that subtle, shit-eating smirk tugging the corner of his lips as he presses forth, “got any id on you?” jaehyun stands tall, squares his shoulders and for the first time tonight, proudly assumes the position that ziying had involuntarily signed him up for. he looks yuhui right in the eye, follows the latter’s gaze save the brief moment in which he notes the time on his wrist. 11.05pm. “charity gala ended so soon?” he quips, clicks his tongue in faux disappointment, “shame.”

ft. park jaehyun & @seriphic's sun yuhui