Bonus 》Hey, Changbin, Remember Your Ex?

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They grouped up around the food court of the local mall tucked away in their corner of the city. Their old stomping grounds since their highschool days, when their hormones ran free and Changbin wore an eye patch around to get women to talk with him about his 'Bad Eye', don't ask. Busying themselves with munching away on their typical lunches; Some mixture of a pickle stuffed cheeseburger which reeked of that vinegar stench from said fermented vegetable, the tall soda which accompanied it a suicidal blend of a hundred soft drinks from the complimentary fountain; The fried chicken wings glossed with a honeyed drizzle which were already half devoured before he could have a seat at their favorite table; The cheesy burrito giving off a few thousand pounds of grease; And a salad.

The four horsemen of the apocalypse. Chan, Felix, Changbin, and yours truly, Lee Minho.

What? They were hungry, okay? As much as spending time with the hazards was a wonderful activity to occupy an afternoon (Which Minho was not happy about, Felix woke him up exactly two hours into his sleep and dragged him out of his apartment to join them for the day), their antics made them hungry. Fast. Running around the mall had consequences even as grown men, and no. They weren't there to be a group of teenage girls shopping for clothes. Minho was there to get a new mouse pad for his computer set up. Chan was there to pick up a new pair of drumsticks after his last shattered because he was teaching Eunwoo to play. Felix was trying to find himself new outfits and new jewelry to dress himself with. And Changbin was... Who fucking knows why Changbin was there, but he was.

Minho pleasantly crunched away on his salad, prodding around one of the cherry tomatoes hidden beneath the mountain of romaine lettuce the meal was. Rabbit food. His rabbit food, as Jisung fondly liked to call the multitude of salads he chose to eat instead of taking his chances with processed greases, sugars, and fats, which could poke and prod at his head in the worst ways. Allowing the content flush of warmth which sunk into his gut while he chomped away at his meal rock him into a lullaby. A coziness at the presence of his friends surrounding him with idle chatter occupying them in the middle of their chews, some story that Felix was telling them about a co-worker doing one thing or another while Changbin interjected with clever commentary to the story.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Chan shoved the last bit of cheeseburger into his cheek and went to bundle up the wax paper wrapping the fried patty was tucked inside.

"Oh shit."

Minho glanced from the verdue green of his salad to Chan, frozen in his seat as his skin drained away it's once proud tan of color. Statued from his hands still scrunching up the paper, his gaze fixated on something near the entrance of the food court, even his breath seemed to halt in that second he managed to squeeze out, "Changbin, it's your ex."

"Yeah? Which one is it?" On the other hand, Changbin didn't bother to look. He kept chewing on his cheesy burrito, taking another massive bite from the stringy fry of the tortilla while he asked with a mouthful, "Your stepmom? Hyunjin? Vanessa? Tell me it's not Vanessa, I hate that bitch."

"It's Jeongin."

Changbin choked on his burrito. 

His eyes followed where Chan had been staring. Chasing down the trailblazing path of that powerful stare to a familiar figure wandering into the food court by his lonesome, a bag from one of the outlet stores hung off the platform of a bend arm. A decent height matching the growth Minho remembered from that teenager all those years ago, lanky still, yet obviously built in the muscle of his flexed arm supporting the bag exposed by the short sleeve T-shirt he dressed himself in, the ripped jeans which hung off his frame, his entire get up of casual yet perfectly planned to appear as stylish as possible. Those familiar features, angular in the sharpened jawline, the eyes which narrowed to slick dashing of a wild animal through a forest thickett. Fox-like in his sly disposition, the confident and assured yet sneaky steps which glided him along the floor of the mall.

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