ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, Beomjun

025

Knowing that his exam is today, Yeonjun feels his usual level of exhaustion tenfold. His body is heavy as he shuffles to the kitchen, eyes open in slits, his home a blur. The brown outline of his couch is a fuzzy block in his view, and he sidesteps to avoid bumping into it, a small grumble falling from his lips.

He blinks harder as he makes his way to the quaint kitchen space, then does another twice until his view clears.

Squinting through an eye, he scratches his head. Foggy from the early hours and sleep-sodden brain, his mind blanches, forgetting his train of thought. He turns his head from left to right, scanning the area. It takes him a moment longer to remember what he was doing, staring hard as he concentrates.

An exclamation passes his lips and he straightens as clarity washes over him. He turns a little to the left and grabs the kettle, a satisfied smile on his lips. It's a simple thing but such things pride him so early in the morning.

He barely has to take a few steps before he's in front of the sink, turning on the tap and listening to the steady stream of water hitting the basin. Yeonjun watches it before he shoves the kettle between the two, the muffled sound of swirling water filling the quiet atmosphere.

It's a monotonous ritual Yeonjun does almost daily, caffeine and the occasional light snack being the start of his day.

He needs it even more today, his exam is in a couple of hours and if he's not hopped up on coffee he doesn't think he'll have the brain power to write anything. The consequence of that is he'll also be jittery and probably need to pee more than usual, but it's a small sacrifice if it means having the ability to think during something important.

He wishes his exam wasn't so early—it seems fairer to do it in the afternoon, when certain students don't have to get up so early just to travel, and so that they all have the chance to refresh themselves from slumber before they take such a fundamental exam.

Anyway, he digresses, shaking his head as he comes out of his thoughts. The kettle is overflowing now, water pouring out of it like a fountain and knocking against the basin with a tune of misery.

He turns off the tap and spills out some of the water until it's at the maximum level, then places it on its base. The switch clicks as he flicks it on, lighting up a dark blue. The water begins to hiss as it warms up bubbles simmering at the very top.

Yeonjun stares up at the cabinets above, opening the one closest to the window and grabbing two cups. Their ribbed design moulds against his fingers, smooth and cold in his touch. He'd stolen (ask for) them from Soobin two years ago. The younger had bought a set of four despite having an irrational number of mugs already filling his cabinets, and Yeonjun had liked them so he asked Soobin if he could take one. Soobin gave him two, said it'd help make room, and it'd worked out in the end, since Beomgyu is his roommate. He places them down on the counter, closing the cupboard.

The kettle continues in its low pitched hiss as he walks over to the fridge, swinging the door open. The continents on the side rattle and shake, a bottle of sauce clattering as it falls, and the fridge lights up with a low buzz. The remnants of last night's meal hits his nose, invading his senses despite being contained in a sealed plastic tub, thick with the smell of oil and salt.

While a hand reaches for the sauce to reposition it, Yeonjun scans over the items in the fridge, thoughtfully biting into his lower lip. Nothing looks appetising, or maybe he feels that way because of the scent clogging his nose, so he grabs the milk and straightens, closing the door with his foot. It slams gently on impact, items rattling again. He frowns at the tell-tale thud of falling sauce, sighing.

Yeonjun places the milk on the counter, pulling one of the jars pressed against the blue tiles of their wall. It scrapes along the counter, weighed with the same effort and laziness possessing Yeonjun's limbs. He pops the lid off and immediately the strong scent of coffee invades his senses. His nose crinkles at the bitter tinge. It further wakes him up and even though he knows the scent promises energy and relief, he finds its invasive nature rude.