adora • lookism

11. Gun (1)

"Holy shit," said Goo Kim, looking like he was about to explode with laughter. "What is that?"

Gun clenched his hand closed and rolled the object held in it into his pocket. "Mind your fucking business."

"You can't show me something like that and then tell me to mind my business," Goo said, pushing his face closer nosily. "Weren't you just at the library? Where the hell did you even get that? You can't have bought it yourself, it doesn't match your macho aesthetic."

"Someone lent it to me," Gun said, only because he knew Goo would badger him endlessly if he didn't.

"Oh they lent it, did they?" Goo leered, eyebrows waggling. "It was a girl, wasn't it? I can just tell it was a girl. Was she hot?"

Gun roughly shoved his face away. "Shut up."

"She musta been hot, 'cus you're superficial as shit and you wouldn't have taken it if she wasn't," mused Goo, not minding the way his face was being squished harshly onto the car's streamlined glovebox. "You even get hit on at the library, you scoundrel. Maybe I should start going to the library too."

Instead of squeezing the wheel, which would have broken it and possibly the entire car, or Goo's face, which would have started a huge fight and ended in the exact same result, Gun let go of Goo's face and shoved his hand into his coat pocket. He clenched his hand around the stress ball in his pocket, once again marvelling at the way it managed to endure his strength.

"She wasn't hitting on me," Gun said, calmer. He didn't bother to address the rest of Goo's nonsense.

"Did she leave you her number?"

"Yes," Gun reluctantly replied. He'd long learned that it was a huge pain to lie to Goo. The bastard was so nosy that he'd end up finding out anyway, only with the addition of an incredible ruckus about having been lied to.

"Sure sounds like she was hitting on you."

Normally, even if only in secret, Gun would have agreed with Goo. Yes, the girl from the library had been oddly kind to someone she didn't know. Yes, she had lent---lent, not given---him a personal item, with expectations that he would return it. Yes, she had indeed left him a note with her number scribbled on it.

Except that the note itself...

i gotta go, but i'll lend you the stress ball for a while longer. i think you need him more than i do right now. but mr octopus was a gift AND is a limited edition colour, so you have to return him soon!

010-xxxx-xxxx

(p.s. don't worry im not hitting on u)

(p.p.s. im seriously not, so pls don't misunderstand!)

Well, it was hard to argue with that: she had been so worried he would think she was hitting on him that she even wrote it twice.

Not that Gun would tell that to this royal pain in his ass, who would only have an aneurysm from laughing too hard about it.

"Are you going to hit this chick up?"

"None of your business," Gun repeated.

"So you are going to!"

This annoying fucking---Gun began to violently daydream about swerving the car into the opposite lane so that oncoming traffic would hit the passenger side. Squeezing the stress ball again, he began to run through in his head all the reasons why that was a bad idea, starting from having to deal with all the debt collection himself and moving on to how much he liked this car and even going so far as to think about what that would do to his insurance rates.